#perfect party frosting

[moonlinos]

It’s so tasty, come and chase me

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of food

♡ Word count: 2.3k

♡ Synopsis: It’s your first birthday with Hyunjin as your boyfriend, and he wants to give you the best day since you were born. He racks his brain, wondering what’s the perfect way to impress you, and ultimately settles on surprising you with a homemade birthday cake. That’s romantic, right? Too bad you accidentally ruin his plans in the best way possible.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon (happy birthday! 🩷) Title from Red Velvet’s Ice Cream Cake bc we all know that song ain’t about cake. I quickly wrote this to try and get out of my writing slump, and I think it worked lol so I’ll hopefully be able to start posting other longer stories and requests in a couple of weeks 🧚‍♀️

You and Hyunjin began dating exactly two hours after your birthday.

Being acquaintances for long due to being in the same friend group, he’d been a part of your birthday celebrations for a few years. But you were never really that close — he’d always been too shy to approach you, and you spent an awfully long time thinking he hated your guts. It was a drunken confession that made you both realize the mutual crush you had been hiding for far too long.

Hyunjin cursed himself inwardly for taking so long to properly ask you out. He sat with your friends and discussed birthday plans with you, then watched as you enjoyed your surprise party. He had a pout on his lips throughout the entire night, desperately wishing he could openly hold and kiss you in front of your friends. The silly secret you both had decided to keep from them until things were official between you drove him to the brink of insanity. You two were skirting around the big question for a while, and it wasn’t until Hyunjin’s veins were flowing with quite a lot of Soju that he finally mustered up the courage to do it.

Only he was too late — it was already 2 a.m, and no longer your birthday.

“You’ll have to put up with me for another year if you really wanna be my boyfriend on my birthday,” you told him with a grin.

Hyunjin was determined to make your first birthday together as a couple unforgettable, even through simple gestures. These two days were incredibly meaningful to him; the day you were born and the day he finally got to call you his, one after the other.

Too bad the universe seems to love conspiring against him.

He put on his best near-death voice and faked coughs over the phone, trying to convince you he was sick. You were understandably worried, but he assured you he would be fine after taking some medicine. He needed alone time to figure out how to bake a cake, and your presence would be a tempting distraction.

Hyunjin was halfway through frosting your cake for the third time when the sound of his door being unlocked made him jump.

Perhaps it wasn’t the universe’s animosity towards him after all, but rather his own stupidity for not remembering that you had the code to his door lock.

He stood there motionless, feeling like a teenager who had been caught doing something wrong, his hand clutching the spatula tightly as you eyed him with confusion. You raised a brow at him.

“Weren’t you dying?”

“Why are you here?” Hyunjin all but whines, and you close the door behind you with a chuckle.

“I’m here because you told me you were dying,” you explain. “Why the fuck are you frosting a cake?” He doesn’t answer, and after a beat and a half, you grasp the situation and your mouth falls open. “It’s for my birthday, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin drops the spatula on the counter with a loud clink. “No.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You grin at the sight before you. “That’s so cute.”

“It’s not for your birthday,” He insists, promptly removing his apron. “I lost a bet and owe Seungmin a cake.”

You roll your eyes. “Hyunjin, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Fine,” He grumbles, glaring at the lumpy, messy frosting spread on the cake. He was so sure he was nailing it this time, but the more he looks at it, the more it looks borderline inedible. “I wanted to surprise you, be like super boyfriend material and bake your birthday cake myself. Turns out I’m fucking awful at it.”

“It’s not that bad…” Your voice trails off, the telltale rise in pitch whenever you lie betraying you. Hyunjin shoots you a glance, narrowing his eyes. “Okay, so it is a little crooked, and the frosting is a bit clumpy but I can fix that—”

He cuts you off, drawing out your name with a pout. “No, I’m the one who’s supposed to make you a pretty cake. It’s your special day, I should be the one doing things for you.”

“It’s not my birthday till midnight,” you argue, tossing your bag onto the floor and gently nudging Hyunjin to the side, making room for you on his counter. “Let me help.”

You take the spatula in your hands, ignoring Hyunjin’s loud protests and trying your best to smooth out the thick layer of frosting Hyunjin had spread onto the cake. Your brows knit together in concentration as your boyfriend continues to grumble beside you, eventually moving his nagging to the counter behind you. You hear the water running and the clinking of dishes as you finally start making progress, before Hyunjin’s hands are gripping your hips and pushing you against the counter.

You furrow your brows, ready to complain about him disrupting you, but he’s pressing his lips to your neck before you can mutter out a word. Hyunjin’s breath as he mumbles against your skin tickles you, your body instinctively jolting, causing your hand to slip and mess up the frosting (again).

“Hyunjin,” you berate him, and his only response is to hum. “This frosting is already borderline unusable, if you—”

“Hey!” He snaps, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “Don’t insult my frosting.”

“Then stop disrupting me.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, his body pressing against yours.

“You’re the one who ruined my surprise,” he corrects you, “So if you wanna decorate this cake so badly, you’ll have to do it while I disrupt you,” he mimics your voice. You roll your eyes while a huff of amusement slips from your lips.

“Be my guest,” you shrug.

Hyunjin simply buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips curling into a grin against your skin and igniting a smile on your own face. You bite the inside of your cheek, turning your focus back to the disastrous cake. But your smile only widens at the sight of the decorations thrown around on the countertop; heart-shaped sprinkles, various candles and your favorite candies. The image of Hyunjin clumsily following a recipe, his pretty face dusted in flour, making frosting from scratch simply to make your birthday cake more special has your heart swelling with love.

But just as you spread more frosting on the cake, your concentration is shattered by the sudden touch of Hyunjin’s hand sliding under your skirt and into your panties.

“Excuse me?”

“I told you I was gonna disrupt you,” he shrugs, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder. “But I’m sure it won’t work. You’re too focused on the cake, anyway.”

You scoff. Hyunjin really is such a menace when he wants to be — no wonder you spent such a long time thinking he hated you. Little did you know that behind his teasing and cold exterior lay such a sweet and sensitive man.

He remained still for a while, his hand nonchalantly cupping your cunt while he watched you try your best to make the cake look presentable.

“You missed a spot,” he points out, one single finger gliding along your folds. You hiss.

“Fuck off.”

Hyunjin chuckles, the digit now teasing your already slick entrance. You wait for a minute, then two, then three, but he remains still. Tightening your hold on the spatula, you buck your hips toward his hand, willing him to do something.

But he doesn’t, resting his chin on your shoulder with a lazy sigh instead.

“Is this your best attempt at disrupting me?”

He hums. “Focus on the cake, baby. Weren’t you so excited about fixing it?”

You can tell he is undoubtedly a bit upset at you. This cake was his birthday surprise to you, after all. You had essentially fucked it up, taking over the task without him even asking you for help.

So you nod slowly, turning your face to shoot him a small smile. “Can you help me? It’ll be better if we do it together.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips, and his finger finally pushes into you, your walls immediately clenching around it.

“I’d love to help you.”

With his other hand, Hyunjin scrambles with the sprinkles packet before finally tearing it open. Cursing under his breath, he watches some of the red and pink hearts escape from the packaging and scatter across the counter. You’re ready to tease him, but a moan swallows your voice as his finger curls inside you, pressing against the spot that has you almost dropping the spatula onto the cake.

Your hands grip the counter as another finger slips inside of you, then a third, all while Hyunjin casually dusts a handful of sprinkles over the white frosting. You could feel yourself leaking around his fingers, the heel of his palm grazing over your clit, and your vision goes slightly blurry watching how the heart shapes cascade from his hand onto the cake.

“I think those candies would look nice with the sprinkles, don’t you think?” Hyunjin asks, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to ripple across your entire body. You simply nod, too focused on the way his fingers stretch you, igniting a wildfire inside your chest with each pump of his wrist. “Could you grab the bag for me, baby?”

You nod and mindlessly reach out in front of you, until your eyes land on the bag sitting across the counter, just barely out of reach. You stretch out your fingers, but Hyunjin circles your waist with his left arm and pulls you flush against his body before you can get a hold of it.

“Hyunjin,” you whine, feeling the warmth of his chest as it rumbles against your back with a chuckle.

“Grab the bag for me, hm?”

You let out a shuddering breath and reach out toward the candy package, your body bending over the marble counter, the thick outline of Hyunjin’s cock pressing against your ass. As soon as your trembling fingers wrap around the bag, his hand leaves your cunt and pushes your soaked panties to the side.

He slides his length along your folds, hovering over your body, the swollen head of his cock catching against your clit evoking a heavy sigh from your lips.

“Go on,” Hyunjin prompts, “Let’s finish decorating your cake.”

Clumsily, you pull yourself up, forearms resting against the counter as you tear the bag open. With shaky hands, you slowly tip the bag over, lightly sprinkling the colorful candies across the cake. Until Hyunjin rolls his hips forward, plunging into you. Your breath catches in your throat as he fills you with his thick length, pumping into you in full force, causing your body to writhe in his arms and sending candies flying out of the bag, scattering across the cake and countertop.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” you grunt when his hand slides down your body to trace circles around your swollen clit. “The ca- the fucking cake.”

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh before pressing his lips to your neck, sucking the skin between his teeth, each thrust of his hips slamming your body against the counter. Your eyes flutter closed, a haze of lust wrapping around you while your climax ripples through your body. Hyunjin shudders as your cunt clenches around him, squeezing as he hastily rams into you, his grip on your waist tightening with each stroke.

“Gonna come,” he rasps in your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging your head back to look at him, his eyes completely clouded over. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whimper, barely registering the way your fingers graze across the forgotten cake when you feel his cock twitch at your words. He mutters a string of curses through clenched teeth before flooding you with his warmth.

You slowly catch your breaths, Hyunjin pressing light kisses across your face with a contented hum as his cock slowly softens inside of you.

And then both your eyes land on the cake.

Somehow, the sprinkles melted, leaving behind a garish kaleidoscope of colors, and the candies adorned more of Hyunjin’s counter than the cake itself. The already sloppy-looking cake had three lines running across it, and the sticky white frosting clinging to your fingertips serves as undeniable evidence of your guilt. You grimace, mentally bracing yourself for the disappointed look in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Instead, his loud laughter you love so much echoes in your ears.

“That’s so fucking ugly,” he slurs between giggles.

You frown, turning to look at him, watching tears gather in his lashes as his laughter slowly fades away. He presses a kiss to your agape lips, wrapping both arms around your body before resting his forehead against yours.

“I love it,” he assures you after taking in your befuddled expression. “We made it together. Plus, we had a lot of fun doing it, yeah?” He grins before crashing his lips against yours again.

Your birthday party was the same as it has been for a couple of years; just you and your friend group gathered around your apartment’s rooftop. Except this year, you had the pleasure of watching people’s bewildered looks as they glanced at your birthday cake, proudly displayed on a plastic folding table.

“The fuck is that cake?” Jeongin asked, and Hyunjin burst out laughing as soon as the words left your friend’s lips.

After singing happy birthday, you were surprised to find that the cake — although an assault on the eyes — tasted quite good. You were quick to praise Hyunjin, who sheepishly admitted to using a store-bought box cake mix.

A while later, you two discreetly escaped the chatter and laughter from your friends. While you watched the stars, Hyunjin’s attention was fixated on the passing seconds on his phone. He counted down from five, and at the stroke of midnight, he pressed his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss.

“Happy one year together,” he whispered against your lips.

“Congratulations for putting up with me,” you beamed, and Hyunjin feigned an exasperated sigh, his lips curling into a grin.

“Can’t believe I’ll have to go through that again if I want to be your boyfriend on your birthday next year.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent, @redstayrosie, @binniesbabygirl, @pynchkilledme

#stray kids #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #stray kids smut #skz #hyunjin fluff

[inkykeiji]

you can always take more than nothing

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader

genre: smut

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

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

words: 8.6k

synopsis:

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

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

A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event. 

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

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

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

Good. You told him it suited him.

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

Not that any of them mind. 

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

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

You miss Mikey.

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

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

But you miss Mikey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pervert. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My charms,” you correct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you want him to devour you. 

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

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

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

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

He’s high. 

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

He’s feeling good tonight.

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

“A-And what’s that?”

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

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

“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—” 

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

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

“And who’s fault is that, huh?” 

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

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

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

“Please? Please what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better, princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eager, are we?” 

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

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

“Tell me anyway,” he demands.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re starting to cause a scene. 

It’s exactly what he wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that he minds one bit.

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

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

So he does. 

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

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

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

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

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

So much for being inconspicuous. 

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

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

Still, it’s enough for Mikey.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Kokonoi is looking at you. 

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

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

“How can you tell?” 

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

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

Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s the motherfucking Boss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants. 

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

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Prologue

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The cupcake is smashed. Pink icing and gaudy star-shaped sprinkles coat the interior of the box, and the pastry itself has devolved into crumbs. You just stare at it. It had cost you seventeen dollars. It was expensive, yeah. But you’d spent the last three months walking past it every morning and afternoon in the bougie cafe’s windows. You’d waited. You’d wanted.

And it was destroyed. Completely. The perfect swirl of the buttercream was no more. The single, delicate flower made of frosting had lost half it’s petals. You weren’t sure how you could eat it. The wrapping had been warped, but maybe a tea spoon would work?

You let your head fall into your hands, a sob wracking your shoulders. And then less than a second later you swallow down the feeling, and stride over to your shitty apartment’s tiny kitchen. You grab a lighter, a plastic wine glass and the bottle of white wine Molly had given you earlier today. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she could tell something had. She’d gave you the wine, a hug, and the promise to always be by your side.

Despite today’s circumstances, despite this week’s circumstances, despite this decade’s circumstances, you were going to have a good birthday getting black-out drunk.

You weren’t going to let yourself sink into one of your funks. Even if it was the worst day of the year by far. Even if it was the second worst birthday of your life.

You just don’t. It’s not allowed.

Your phone rings. Sliding it out of your pocket, you stare blankly at the name on the screen. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Malcom. One of George’s friends. You reject the call, block the number, and slide your phone back in your pocket. See? Dealing with things like an adult. Not throwing a temper tantrum, not crying, not… well, destroying your life in an epic meltdown. You’d had a few of those. Still, despite your obvious erraticness, you hadn’t been fired this year. Yay!

You told yourself you were getting better, even as the universe seemingly conspired against your happiness. You were kind of convinced it was.

Turning, you play with the cap on the wine, walking over to your old ratty couch and falling into it. The beast groans at the contact, but you pay it no mind. The thing was probably older than you, and you were celebrating your twenty-first today.

You were an orphan in Gotham, it was not your first time drinking. Molly had dragged you to so many awful parties over the years. But this wine was probably the fanciest you’d ever been given. Scratch that, definitely was. You pour yourself a glass, stick the birthday candle half-hazardly into the largest chunk of cupcake, and grab the remote.

The only true comfort you can get on this day. A woman, a reporter. She speaks, but you can’t really hear what she’s saying. You chug down a glass of the wine, apologising in your head to Molly, and then pour yourself another.

It takes a few minutes, but your muscles relax, and her words tune into focus.

“Today’s memorial, is once again sponsored by the Wayne foundation.”

Yeah, because they’re the only charity organisation in the city. The family of billionaires were debatably the only good ones in existance. Debtable because you weren’t sure if they were good enough themselves. As an orphan who’d known the cruelty of the system yourself, you were a mix of bitter and grateful towards them. Sure, they’d been the only thing that kept you out of true poverty. You were still an awful bitch about it.

You always had been the jealous type. The other kids who got better backpacks or toys or whatever had you seething with fury. The multitude of orphans Bruce Wayne risen out of poverty were not safe from your envy. It didn’t matter if you were… Well, a little bit, just a teeny-tiny-tiddly-little bit… obsessed. Obsessed with them. Kind of manic about it, actually.

You were working on it. Today was a bad day, and you were a little too raw. So, like every little dumb animal on the planet, you went straight to your creature comforts. You pretended you were a roman eating and drinking on their chaise lounge, watching their magnificent entertainment.

Delusional. Your sofa was falling apart at the seems, your cupcake was debris and your entertainment was a memorial service. Wine was good, though.

Gotta focus on the good parts.

You watch the TV screen, the reporter’s voice drifting in and out of focus. There was a family photo of the Waynes and their family friends, all in perfect suits and dresses and pearls and fancy watches. You’d bet that those little accessories were worth more than a year of your rent.

And you lived in fucking Gotham, both the most expensive city to live in, and the worst at the same time. A miracle, truly.

Anyway, they were all stunningly beautiful, even some of the guys. God knows how much the internet went on about Richard Grayson’s long eyelashes. You’d always been enamored with Dick’s good looks. Even Damian Wayne who had only turned nineteen a few months ago and was three years younger than you was already being fawned over by the tabloids.

Gotham’s newest young rich bachelor. Bitterly envious, that was you. You didn’t like that emotion, though, so you turned your attention to others. Namely, delusion.

You let yourself get swept up in daydreams. Of having a rich family, of one so close knit as the Wayne’s. Of having a handsome, loving, kind partner. You don’t let yourself dream about your real family, of a George that was faithful.

You just don’t.

Maybe someone like Tim Drake. Loyal, everyone who knew him described him as loyal. His romances with Bernard Dowd and Stephanie Brown were famous. There were hundreds of papparazzi photos of him with big bundles of roses and a sweet look on his face. You thought someone like Tim Drake would probably be like one of the heroes in your romance novels. Something silly like a meet cute in an airport, or maybe a bookstore or a cafe. He was pretty famous in Gotham’s niche hipster coffee scene, right?

Yeah, you could see it now. Some dumb but cute scene where you get confused and accidentally take his order. You get the same drink, and bond over your shared love of caramel syrup. Like he didn’t live on the opposite side of the city from you, and you probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy shit he drunk. Italian coffee beans versus… well, you didn’t actually know what you bought. You knew it didn’t taste very good, but it was dirt cheap.

What were you doing? Ah, yes, silly daydreams about romance.

But even as you think of Tim, Dick Grayson was so pretty, and he’d had his fair share of partners too. Someone with such an angelic face had to have a personality to match, and the media agreed. Of course you didn’t really know what he was like, this was all just fantasy. Other than numerous tabloid interviews and television, which suggested he had a kind heart and a love for bad jokes you truly knew nothing about the guy. Still, he’d be the golden retriever trope, you think. Or the knight in shining armor, saving his heroine from one of the many disaster’s plaguing Gotham and confessing his love in one big final act. His meet cute would be the airplane one. The blue of his eyes, it makes you think of the sky. You’d take his seat, but he’d be super sweet about it. Like he didn’t have a private jet, and would never be caught on economy.

You think Damian Wayne could play a good romance lead as well. From what you’d seen, he seemed to have a terrible personality, which was perfect for any modern romance. A classic enemies to lovers, with some bickering. Maybe he’d have secretly loved her the entire time, and maybe there’d be a good grovel at the end. So, appreciating his character, he’d have to have a meet ugly. Probably get stuck in an elevator with him or something, and he’d get to display his keen intellect and argumentative nature.

You swirl your wine, nodding your head. Brilliant ideas today, you should talk to Molly more. She’d definitely appreciate your wisdom. She wanted to be a screen writer one day, and all this would be very helpful. She was going to college for it. You couldn’t afford college.

Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were a genius. It was hard to tell, so you take another sip. That’ll help you figure things out.

“As always, the Wayne families’ faces are morose as they celebrate the late Jason Todd.”

And as always, you felt an odd connection with the dead man. Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity. Sure, you were still technically alive. Kicking about. But everyone you loved dying in one fell swoop, right in front of your eyes? You felt more like a ghost these days.

Weren’t you supposed to be fighting those sorts of thoughts off? Whatever, it was too much effort anyway.

Your slight obsession with the Wayne family had been initially started by Jason Todd. You hadn’t been thinking about him as much recently with George in your life, but he swung right back into place as soon as George left your life. Like a magnet, or more likely, a compulsion.

But now you were brought right back to the morning after. Seeing the entire city grieving the day after you’d lost your family, your first thought had been ‘Good, I’m not the only one,’ and then you’d stopped being an idiot and realised the city was mourning Jason Todd, heir to the Wayne name. Sure, there’d been hundreds of others who’d died, but that was Gotham. Your family had gotten a plaque filled with tens of other forgotten names, Jason had gotten framed photos hung around the city.

Today, his photo was once again surrounded by thousands of bouquets. Peonies, roses, daffodils, lillies, a rainbow of petals that almost covered his memorial stone. It reminded you of your sad-ass cupcake. When the camera zoomed out, you could see your smaller set of poseys against one of the thirty towering monuments, the tiny names crammed into the rock. Your families name was on line fifty-two, near the bottom. You could only afford the flowers once a year, but you visited once a week at least.

There were other flowers. Other offerings. Other candles. Jason’s dwarfed them all.

You sometimes couldn’t tell if you hated the dead man or were hopelessly in love with him. Obviously it didn’t matter. Even when he was alive he was out of both your league and your tax bracket.

Still, you were absolutely certain of it, Jason Todd would beat up George Lancaster. So fucking bad. To a bloody pulp. He’d be eager to do it, as well. You could hum and haw about how you thought violence was bad but he’d see right to the core of you.

The part of you that wanted George Lancaster to suffer. And he’d do it with a kiss and a promise that he’d make it slow. He’d save you from all your monsters, and he’d do it eagerly. And that was the fantasy of it all, wasn’t it?

You lift your glass, in celebration of your dead parasocial imaginary boyfriend. You hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of your new living parasocial imaginary boyfriends. Hiccuping out a laugh, you swallow down another gulp.

And even then, of course you wanted Bruce Wayne as a father. As someone who has seen the worst of the world, and would protect you from it. As someone who would wipe away the tears, who would save you from your own self. And you wanted Cassandra as a sister, someone to groan over guys with and steal clothes off. You wanted the close relationships they shared with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, with Duke who’d only recently come into their fold. You even wanted their dog you’d seen in photos, the cat that Damian posted on his instagram, the fucking cow they kept for god knows reason inside the estate. You wanted everything, every part of their lives. You were a jealous person, but more than that, you were a greedy person.

You glance at the clock.

11:57.

You shakily open the candle packet, picking a green one out. That had been Sam’s last favourite colour, but he switched them so often it was hard to remember. You stab it into the pink frosting. Julie always chose pink for her cake. Chasey loved flowers, particularly poseys. The flowers had looked like posesys before they’d been crushed.

You light the candle. It’s tiny flame flickers in the dark room, the warm light overpowered by the cool from the television. You peek back over to the clock.

11:58.

And Mum always made her wish at midnight, because she believed that was when it was most likely to come true.

What would you wish for? You never did, because you never knew what you wanted to wish for. Everything you wanted, everything you could’ve wanted, was gone. It couldn’t come back, it was impossible.

11:59.

You look at the TV, at the blinding forms of the Wayne family. Of their graveyard, with the manor in the background. It’s as impossible as everything else. But that’s what they represent for you, isn’t it?

Something hopeful. Something impossible.

You wanted impossible.

12:00.

You lean over the messy cupcake, and blow the candle out. It disappears in one blow, and you sink back into the couch. You take a few crumbs from the cupcake and sneak them past your lips. In your drunkenness, you probably get more on the couch than in your mouth.

You let your eyes flutter shut, and because only you can, you give yourself the comfort of lies. You imagine loving embraces, whispered platitudes. You imagine that today was a good day, that you’d find yourself tomorrow happy. That you wouldn’t wake up with a hangover, that you wouldn’t have a shitty job, an evil ex, and mountains of debt.

That you’d have people who loved you, who could ease the pain.

And you don’t even care who they are.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[lou-struck]

Made with Love Part 1

Obey Me Brothers and Datables x reader

Part 1

MASTERLIST COMING SOON!

~After Luke uses a bowl from Solomon's Lab to make some Cookies for the Valentines Day party. Everyone starts acting a bit... Love Drunk.

a/n: I hope you guys like this little Valentine's Day series! If you want to be tagged in part 2 Comment Below!

Introduction:

As the Angel reaches up on his tiptoes to reach an upper kitchen cabinet, Luke's little white beret slips from his white blonde head. The sweet smell of angelic sugar cookies wafts through the air around him from the dozens of batches he has made today. From what he has 'sampled' earlier, he can tell that if he were to wrap them up right now, even Barbatos would have seconds. But he wants to frost and decorate the little heart-shaped cookies with a whipped-cloud icing you like before bringing them to Diavolo's castle for his Valentine's Day celebration.

The party may be small, but it was planned especially with you in mind. 

Although he was up in the Celestial Realm running an errand for Michael, Luke heard all about the little prank that Solomon played on Simeon and the others about some evil, human-world monster called Cupid that was trying to steal you away. 

You were never in any real danger, but he and everyone else agreed that the prank made the day less enjoyable for you. Which is the last thing anyone wanted. 

Meetings were held, contracts were signed, and it was agreed that for this Valentine's Day, there would be no funny business. 

Today has to be perfect for you, so his cookies need to be frosted.

Fueled by his good-natured desire to make you something sweet, Luke is able to reach just a bit higher, his fingertips grabbing the ceramic mixing bowl by its patterned edge. 

This victory is short-lived, however, as it slips past his butter-coated fingers and thuds to the ground, the heavy bowl splitting in two.

The broken bowl in front of him causes the Angel to feel a bit distressed. Why couldn't he be bigger?

To clean up the fallen pieces.

But as his kitchen timer takes down slowly he realizes that he's running out of time. He has to get the frosting made soon.

"Where are all the other mixing bowls?" he wonders aloud as he looks through the other cabinets and dishwasher, finding none. 

He knows that there are more than just the ones he has been using for the batter. But where are they?

He puffs out his little cherub cheeks with a pout as he tries to think where they could've gone.

And then, it hits him.

Solomon…

The Sorcerer has a habit of 'borrowing' things from the kitchen, bringing them into his Lab, hoarding them, and not bringing them back for weeks. The batch of cookies in the oven only has a few minutes left, so he wastes no time scampering up to the Lab to retrieve the stolen mixing bowls.

Thankfully, the dark wooden door to the Lab is unlocked, and he slips inside. Every step is anxious for the little Angel. You never know what is crawling about Solomon's Lab. 

This time, the air is unusually sweet, like cotton candy and pomegranate seeds. 

The mouthwatering smell has the angeling giggling to himself, although Solomon can't cook an edible meal to save his life, some of the spells and potions he cooks up can be classified as tasty.

From the corner of his eye, Luke sees a small stack of his mixing bowls on the countertop. But as he gets close, he sees that they are completely filthy, covered in remnants of some experiment.

Luke knows not to try to touch those ones; after all, the last time he tried to clean some of Solomon's dishes, he ended up cursed with webbed feet for a whole day. 

As he shudders from the memory, he spots a light blue bowl on the edge of another table. 

It's his favorite bowl; this one would be perfect for him to use to make the frosting. 

The best part is it looks clean. 

BUZZ...

The sharp ringing of the kitchen timer causes the little Angel to jump as he hastily grabs the bowl and runs downstairs so his cookies won't burn. 

But in his rush to prevent what he thinks would be the day's biggest disaster, he fails to notice the small layer of shimmery glaze that has gathered at the bottom of the bowl.

~

There is Love in the dark, chilly air of the devildom as you make your way to the Demon Lord's castle. Your feet are not quite running, but they step with an embarrassed quickness, 

The Valentine's Day outfit that Asmodeus picked out for you earlier had caused a few delays, so now you worry you are running late to the party. 

How can one shirt have so many different types of buttons and zippers?

A part of you wonders if the Avatar of Lust had given you this particular outfit to distract you and prevent you from leaving for the party with the other brothers. 

Your hands pat the back pockets of your jeans again as you feel the solid outline of your DDD through the fabric and sigh in relief. Barbatos wrote on the invitations that bringing the device was necessary for today's events since he had planned a few party games that required them. 

It's then you notice a little figure dressed in white slowly making his way up the path just ahead of you. 

Luke's steps are as small as he awkwardly carries a large container. You are about to ask him if he needs any help, but the look of determination on his face tells you not to try and take it from him, so instead, you raise a friendly hand and call after him.

When he sees you, he stands up a bit straighter. 

"Mc, Happy Valentine's Day." he beams. 

"Thank you, Luke." you look down at the box curiously. "Whatcha got there?"

The little Angel's cheeks turn a bit pink as he looks shyly away from you. "I made angelic sugar cookies for the party.

Your grin is elated at his words. "Those are so good. That was very thoughtful of you, Luke."

He perks up like a little dog at your compliment. "It was nothing, I made that frosting you like too, but I didn't have all the ingredients I needed, so only a few were frosted."

"I'm sure everyone will love them." you smile purposely, making your strides small so the little guy can keep up with you. "Did you remember to bring your DDD for the party games?"

His blue eyes widen in shock, and he looks at you with an expression of pure distress. "Oh no, I knew I was forgetting something."

"Since you have that big box of cookies, I can just run back to Purgatory Hall and grab it for you." you offer with a kind smile. "Where did you leave it."

He looks at you gratefully, and his shoulders relax as much as he can with that huge box of cookies in his hands. "You would really do that for me? Thank you, you're the best Mc; I think I left it on the kitchen counter."

Sounds good, I'll see you in a little bit." you smile. As you turn around, you remember one more thing. "Make sure to save a cookie for me."

"Don't worry," he calls back happily. "I will."

~

The enormous doors part for Luke in an almost haunting manner as he approaches the castle door. He fights the shudder as he steps inside, clutching his box of cookies with a death grip as his ears pick up the faint sound of conversation. 

He follows it closer and closer to the banquet hall, where he was told the party would be held. 

As the sounds grow louder, he can make out the excited rambling of Leviathan, the loud and merry laughter of Diavolo, and the animated squealing of Asmodeus. 

Although they are demons, their happy chatter soothes his nerves as he pushes open the door with his shoulder. 

The conversation in the room dies as the door creaks open. And when he steps out from behind the wood, he notes that everyone has been staring at him. When everyone sees it's just him, they quickly return to their usual conversations. 

"I'm glad you could make it, Luke," Barbatos says with a polite smile, being the first one to recover from the momentary disappointment. 

Simeon approaches the smaller Angel friendlily, placing a hand on top of Luke's head and ruffling his hair. "It seems everyone heard you approaching and assumed you were Mc."

"It could've been." he mumbles embarrassedly, "I had forgotten something back at home, and they offered to get it for me so I could bring over the cookies."

"Cookies?" Beel says, his head snapping towards Luke with gluttonous intent.

Luke's fondness for the Avatar of Gluttony's interest in his sweets causes him to smile and place the box on the table.

He removes the first layer of beautifully frosted cookies for all to see. "Yeah, I made these for the party. That's why I was running late today. 

"Smells good," Beel mutters, taking a slow step toward the tray of cookies. Luke is so proud of the attention he garnered that he doesn't realize that everyone else is staring at the plate as well, enthralled by the sweet smell. 

"Ohhh, they're soooo cute." Asmodeus gushes, holding up the heart-shaped cookie with his freshly manicured nails. The little red heart decals stand out on the glossy pink background.

Lucifer clears his throat. "May I try one?" he asks, "I do not have the biggest sweet tooth, but since it is a Holiday, I may as well."

"S-sure." the Angel replies, as everyone reaches for a cookie. There are only a few left on the plate, so he decides to wait to have one himself until you get here.

"Thank you, Luke, these look delicious," Barbatos says, removing his white glove before touching the gooey sweet. 

Luke watches as everyone takes a bite of the cookies, his heart feeling full when he hears the sounds of approval as they chew. 

"Wow," these are really good," Levi says, being the first to try to take another cookie.

"Wait," he says quickly, snatching the plate off the table. "These are Mc's favorite; let's wait until they get back to eat another one.

Lucifer giggles and stumbles back clumsily. "Yay, Mc's coming…" The dreamy lift in his tone makes Luke's eyes go wide in alarm. 

Something is wrong. 

Are they drunk???

"Mc…Cutie Pie." Satan hums; the usual sharp intelligence in his expression is gone and replaced with giddy lovesickness.

There is a haze to the Prince's eyes and a ruddiness to his cheeks as he nods thoughtfully. "I'll bring this plate up to my chambers. I want to feed them every bite myself. 

"No way," Levi says way too confidently. "If anyone will be alone in a room with Mc. It will be me.

Barbaots stretches his arms out lethargically. "I'm… going to lay down in my room." he yawns. "Tell Mc to come to my room when they get here."

"You're tired, Barbatos?" Belphegor asks, the Avatar of Sloth looking wide awake."

"Yer not?" Mammon slurs, his pupils dilated. Luke turns and looks into the Avatar of Greed's eyes and sees that his pupils are now heart-shaped. 

"How could I be?" the youngest of the seven answers. "Mc is coming soon, and I don't want to waste my time sleeping when I can be looking at them. 

"Do you think Mc would give me a piggyback ride?" Beel hums absentmindedly. 

"Course they would." Mammon gushes. "Mc is super strong and pretty and smart. And….~" his love-sick rambling is cut off by a dark chuckle from Simeon. 

"No way," he coos. "You would crush them if you jumped on their back. You clearly don't know how to treat someone as special as Mc. 

"And you do?" Levi laughs.

Simeon's smile is sinful. "Let's just say once I had my turn with them, Mc won't be thinking about any of you."

"That's so inappropriate." Asmodeus gasps with wide eyes. "I-i can't have you speaking about Mc like that." he covers his ears with his hands to block out the sound. 

"Some Avatar of Lust you are," Simeon smirks, leaning in and using his writer's brain to get a bit descriptive with what he would like to do to you when you get to the party. 

"What is wrong with you guys?" Luke stammers as he tries to block out Simeon's sinful words. 

With everyone else thinking about nothing but you, Solomon shyly taps a rather distressed Luke on the shoulder. His cheeks are a soft shade of pink as he stares down at the floor, "I-i think I know what is happening…"

~Why was in those cookies??? Find out what happens next in part 2

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #Diavolo x reader #Barbatos x reader #Simeon x reader #Solomon x reader #Lucifer x reader #x reader

[luvmmarner]

PROMPTS OF ALL PROMPTS

I would definitely make intense smut prompts later! For now I hope you enjoy these fluff angst prompts instead! Requests are always opened!

For others that want to use these prompts! You're free to do so! Just tag me no need to credit. I would love to read it and see what you came up with! -- FLUFF PROMPTS 

“Can you hug me”

“My teammates gets annoyed because I talk about you 24/7”

“Can we have a date night tonight?”

“Do you know you're pretty” 

“Why are you being a pain?” 

“Stop simping for me you simp” 

“Your blushing you idiot” 

“Are you kidding me? I love cuddles” 

“Your hair smells good.” 

“I just want to lay here all day” 

“Can you wash my hair for me?” 

“I really need you right now”

“I like you.. well no… I love you” 

“I love your smile” 

“You sent me inappropriate pictures. When I was out in public” 

“Why are you so clingy?” 

“Fine. We can stay home tonight” 

“Dance with me in the rain” 

“Let’s jump in the puddles!” 

“Can I sit on your lap?” 

“Kiss me please!” 

“Can you rub my arm in circles?” 

“I’m wearing your shirt if that’s fine!” 

“This still smells like you” (long distant or for breakups) 

“Your mom gave me pictures of you when you were a baby.” 

“Stop you’re making me blush in public” 

“Don’t… I’m ticklish —“ 

“I can’t sleep can I stay here”

“I had a nightmare…”

“I care about you”

“You mean everything to me”

“You make me feel like I’m at home every time”

“Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one”

“Stop denying it! You need sleep”

“You’re so adorable.”

“You make me so happy.”

“I need pads”

“I don’t ever want to lose you”

“I feel better now that you’re here with me”

“It’s like we are meant to be”

“I’m not going anywhere”

“I feel safe when I’m with you”

“I can’t reach the top shelf.. Can you help?”

“Here take my jacket.”

“I just started my period…”

 “I’m right here baby, it’s okay”

“I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m never leaving you.”

“You're mine forever.”

“Should we make it official?”

BEACH PROMPTS

“Can you do my sunscreen?” 

“Why is your massages better than you scratching my back” 

“Please come in the water” 

“Stop it’s cold!” 

“I'm going to splash you!” 

“My sandcastle is better than yours” 

“I won!”

“Don’t throw me in the water!!!”

“I’m trying to tan”

“Stand in front of me you block the sun”

“Can you give me a piggyback”

“The sand is hot” 

“Come with me on the floatie!”

“Can you set up the umbrella?”

WINTER PROMPTS

“it’s snowing!” 

“We are locked in…”

“Let’s look at the stars through the window”

“Can we bake gingerbread cookies”

“You got frosting on your face”

“It’s so cold..”

“I love hot coco.”

“Look! I caught a snowflake in my mouth!”

“You got snow in your hair!”

“My snowman is better!”

“Whoever gets to the bottom of the hill first wins!”

“It’s freezing, could you turn on the heat?”

“Snowball fight!!!”

“I got snow in my boots, now my feet are cold.”

“Dw! I’ll warm you up!”

“Let’s build a fort!”

“This is the perfect time to set up the Christmas tree!”

“Ooh! I love sledding!”

“Woo! That was sooo fun!”

“Here! I made this one just for you!”

“You have such good decorating skills!”

SUMMER/CAMPING PROMPTS

“It’s so hot!”

“Can I borrow your hat please?”

“May you buy me a slushie? I forgot my wallet”

“The mosquitoes are killing me”

“Here let me spray you”

“Let’s go on a hike!”

“The sun is so bright.”

“Did you forget the sunscreen.”

“Baby, can you get my backside please?”

“I want to go swimming.”

“Can we just stay inside!”

“This is the perfect spot to set up our campsite.”

“I got the marshmallows!”

“I’ll help you set up the tent. But.. I don’t know how.”

“I’m already tired.”

“Let's roast marshmallows!”

“I made a smore just for you!”

“We can share.”

“Come swimming with me!”

“The water is sooo warm.”

“I rented a boat. You know how to drive it right..?”

“Don’t worry, of course I got the beer.”

“I love summer parties.”

“No… I didn’t steal your towel… Ok fine I did”

“Put me down – Ok ok fine fine! You win.”

“Can we go on a road trip?”

“You pushed me into the water, you jerk!”

“I couldn’t help myself… All the ice-cream flavours looked so good!”

“I didn’t buy any more ice cream.. The receipts are lies!!!!”

“Can we stay longer!!”

ANGST/ARGUMENT/BREAKUP PROMPTS

“You promised me.”

“You lied. You said you would never leave me.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know everything”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I loved you.”

“Why don’t you trust me”

“This can’t be goodbye.”

“Please don’t walk out.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t love you.”

“We were never meant to be.”

“I just wanted to be enough for you.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Stop saying sorry! It’s always ‘I’m sorry’. When you really aren’t”

“If you’re sorry, why did you leave me?”

“You thought I was dumb.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“Why did I fall in love with you.”

“I’m so stupid to think we had something.”

“You never cared about me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being selfish.”

“I moved on.”

“You cheated on me.”

“This isn’t working…”

“No. We can’t… we are too toxic for each other.”

“Why me..”

“Us? There was never an ‘us’.”

“I’m done.”

“It’s better if we just stop seeing each other.”

“I can’t love you.”

“You broke my heart so carelessly. Now you want forgiveness?”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Your always mad at me.”

“What do you want? Because I could care less.”

“I was such a fool.”

“You talked to her and then lied about it.”

“You told people that you were single…”

“I thought you loved me..”

“How could you…”

“That’s not going to happen. I already told you.”

“What's wrong with you seriously?”

“You lost me”

“Where’s your new gf/bf?”

“Shouldn’t you be with your new gf/bf”

“I thought things were going amazing”

“I thought wrong…”

“This is goodbye.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“I can’t live without you.’

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Our relationship is in the past. I’m sorry.”

“I like someone else.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“How did you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“I think it’s best if we don’t meet again.”

“You didn’t love me, did you?”

“I hope you're happier.”

“At least you got what you wanted”

“I was miserable and I still loved you.”

“Stop pretending. You wanted me like this… You wanted me broken and you got what you wanted.”

“We can’t keep talking. This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s best if we stop talking… like forever.”

“You're not the same person I fell in love with.”

“You don’t own me.”

“You act like everything is fine when it’s not!”

“Can we not argue for once.”

“Not now. Not even in a million years. I would ever think to give you another chance.”

“I fell for your lies again, and now I’m not anymore.”

“I was nothing to you. I was only a toy for you to manipulate and I fell for it.”

“Why wouldn’t you admit to everything! This was all your fault.”

“I hate you.”

“I despise you.”

“You were my ride or die.”

“I don’t fall in love. I don’t want to be loved or love someone else.”

“If I leave you know you would never see me again.”

“I deserve better.”

“You were my first and would be my last.”

“Don’t – Don’t make me fall in love again.”

“You know we can’t..”

“I know this is random and we haven’t talked in awhile.. But can you stay with me one more night and just forget about everything.”

“It was indeed. The wrong place the wrong time”

“Good for you!”

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?”

“We shouldn’t be together anymore. I’m supposed to hate you.”

“How could I be so oblivious..”

“Why did I even think I could be enough for you.”

“I needed to hold you once more.”

“I don’t understand.. Wha- what are you saying..”

“I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later.”

“Don’t bother to call me when you need something later.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just mad..”

“Please forgive me.”

“Why are you suddenly coming back into my life after I just started to do good.”

“Do you not understand the words ‘I’m done’.”

“Haha! You think I love you? That’s pathetic.”

FICS/STORY IDEAS

Here’s some storyline ideas. You can decide if you want it angst or fluff or whatever! I don’t mind if you take this ideas. You don’t need to credit just a tag, so I could read it! Would be great!

All the promises were already broken. 

Just one more night with no feelings, nothing. After that we forget.

Reader finds out their relationship was nothing, but a lie.

He wanted her back. She moved on. 

Even after breaking up. They still find ways back to each other.

He manipulated her and she fell for it.

They are toxic for each other. But always end up in bed with each other.

He wanted her back but she isn’t giving him another chance.

He left her and she still wanted him back.

They were never meant to be and they knew that. They just can’t let each other go.

She just wanted to be enough for him, but he didn’t care.

He cheated and she found out. Now he realized he can’t live without her.

He didn’t deserve her. But her love for him is stronger.

They thought they had something. But then decided it was best if they stopped seeing each other.

She always forgave him, but this time she didn’t.

How could you be in love with someone who is always mad at you. She knew it was best if she just left. But after everything they've been through it wasn’t going to be easy.

She couldn’t love him as much as she wanted to. It was forbidden to sleep with someone you worked for. But she couldn’t help but ignore the rule.

He was such a fool for letting her into his life. But maybe it was the best thing to happen to him.

They broke up, but they can’t live without each other.

Their relationship was fragments of the past, but deep down their love was still stronger than ever. What happens when they meet again?

She thought things were going amazing. Well she thought wrong.

He got what he wanted and he was happy. Meanwhile she was still broken and miserable.

Their relationship was amazing at the start. But over time the person that she fell in love with wasn’t the same.

After years of talking. They decided it was best if they stopped. Maybe it actually didn’t stop in the end.

He didn’t listen and thought everything was fine. She knew everything wasn’t fine and just wanted him to listen.

She despised him. He was arrogant and only cared about himself. That was until he gave her a ride home.

She didn’t want to fall in love with him again until his touch made her do the one thing she didn’t want to do ‘fall in love again’.

They stopped talking, but he called her wanting just one more night to forget about everything.

No denying they loved each other. But this was their third breakup. It was just best if she left for good.

He was her first love and would be her last. (either she could meet someone else or something!)

He didn't care about any girls and most importantly. He didn’t fall in love. That was until he saw her and his whole life changed.

She knew he was pretending and she wasn’t falling for it.

After years of dating they finally said the 3 words. ‘I love you’

Maybe being snowed in wasn’t so bad after all.

He didn’t seem to understand the words ‘I’m done.’ If they were done, why was she in his bed again.

After years of apologizing. Apology accepted.

After she said don’t ‘bother calling when you need something’. Turns out it was her in the end calling for something.

Maybe jealousy is something that can reunite the flame that was lost.

He was jealous and she didn’t care.

She didn’t trust him. Until one night when drinks got the best of her, and waking up on his couch realized how wrong she was.

She thought he didn’t love her. Until he showed her how much he did.

He didn’t understand that she was breaking up with him. She wanted so badly to say no. But her desires got the best of her.

#prompt list #prompt fluff #fluff prompts #angst prompt #angst prompts #writing prompts #prompts #angst #fluff #winter prompts #beach prompts #summer prompts #camping prompts #fun prompts #writing #prompt idea #prompt ideas #smut ideas #smut prompts

[yuuuhiii]

♯ birthday boy ྀི

includes : 2.2k words, smut! , fluff , established relationship, not proof read MINORS DNI!!!

note : it’s Yuuta’s day! Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did:)!

Your boyfriend’s birthday would always be your favorite thing to celebrate. Even way before you were dating you loved to do small things for him.

Baking a small cake, getting him a little gift, or even just being in his presence. He’d always tell you that it was okay to not do anything, he couldn’t stress it enough. However you’d assure him it was something you loved doing for him.

Knowing how you were though, planning the perfect day for him was always stressful. Especially since you hadn’t seen him for a month. He was sent abroad and got the green light to come home for his birthday from the higher ups.

Just this once.

So you were even a little nervous, the surprise party you were throwing for him wasn’t big but it was definitely meaningful. All of the people that were dear to him would be here so you knew he’d love it.

“Ouch! Okay! Uh Maki can you grab me that plate please?” You yell signaling to her as you pulled out Yuuta’s freshly baked cake.

You had invited everyone over a couple hours earlier before Yuuta’s arrival, they all brought their own food and desserts. All of them pitched in and even helped you set up the party.

“Here you go.” She sets it on the counter, helping you pull out the cake and she snorts at your state. Your hair disheveled, in nothing but one of Yuuta’s shirts and an apron.

“You should go freshen up, me and Inumaki can take care of this.” She smirks but you shake your head.

“It’s fine! I still have time left.” You smile waving her off, she mutters an okay, walking back to Fushiguro and Inumaki.

You happily spin the cake around, plastering frosting all over it. Decorating simple yet pretty, just like your boyfriend. As you’re adding one last strawberry, Itadori’s voice catches your attention.

“Uh I think he’s here.” You whip your head around, checking the time.

“That can’t be true we still have an hour left!” You wash your hands, drying them and rushing to your window. You gasp upon seeing your boyfriend walk up the stairs to your apartment.

“What’s he doing here so early!” You whisper shout, frantically turning around to see if everything was set in place.

It was indeed not.

Decorations were half done, the snack table weren’t even organized and the food hadn’t even come! And besides all of that you weren’t even ready.

You bite your lip, ushering everyone to hide. You tried your best to plant more strawberries and hurriedly stuff candles on his cake until your heard the door unlock.

“Baby! I’m home.” You can hear him say, the sound of his katana and bag being set on the floor.

“Surprise!”

Everyone yells and the lights turn on, confetti being shot and party blowers being blown. Your boyfriend’s eyes scan the room, smiling upon seeing all of his friends. He freezes once his eyes land on you.

You have a sheepish smile on your face, holding his cake in your hands. A strawberry slowly falls over, sinking into the frosting. His eyes soften almost immediately.

You all begin to see my happy birthday to him. As you all sing he slowly walks over to you, standing in front of you, helping you hold the cake.

He stares down at you, all his love pouring out of his eyes with just one stare. Once you all finished you whisper to him.

“Make a wish.”

He smiles widely, looking at you and at his candles he blows. Everyone cheers and you feed him a strawberry, making him giggle.

After he greets everyone, you make your way back to the counter, setting down his cake. His arms wrap around your waist, his nose rubbing into the nape of your neck.

“Yuu!” You turn around and he traps you against the counter.

“You look so cute.” He smiles and you pout.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have enough time to finish. I didn’t know you were coming back early.” You rub his cheek and he leans into your palm.

“Well I wanted to come as soon as possible. Although I did think I was just coming home to you.” He laughs and you purse your lips. He leans in close, swiping his thumb along your cheek and popping it in his mouth.

“You had frosting on your cheek honey.” He moves to kiss you, planting a sweet peck on your lips. However he grows more angsty, littering kisses along your neck.

“Missed you so much.” He whispers against your neck and you gulp.

“Baby we have guests over.” He sighs against your neck, stopping himself from sucking a mark on your pretty skin.

“Then let’s go in the restroom real quick.” He whines, pulling at your (his) shirt.

“No! I have another surprise for you, but that’s just for us two.” You blush and he perks up. “

Just for us hm?” He laughs, pecking the top of your head.

“I’ll behave till then, thank you for all this pretty.” He caresses your cheek and with that he’s joining Inumaki in beer pong against Maki and Yuuji.

Throughout the rest of the party you’re going in and out of your shared bedroom. Yuuta watches you the whole time, no matter who’s talking to him, he’ll always focus on you.

And as it gets later he’s surprised when you turn in for the night, even more surprised when you’re now dolled up.

Your hair is done, little bit of makeup on your face, and god you smell so good.

You give him a sly look, closing the door in front of you. Your stare resembled a siren, the way it was hypnotizing and luring him in.

He quickly lets everyone know that he was done for the night. Gojo and Inumaki teasing him for being an old fart. He lets them spew their unharmful comments, taking it all with a smile and a wave of goodbye.

Once the door is closed and lock, his cold stare is locked with the bedroom door. He’s stalks over there with purpose, his cock somewhat hardening in his pants.

He just missed you so much, the only thing he could think about his plane ride home was getting back to you and fucking you, filling you up with all of his love.

He jiggles the door knob and it’s locked. He pouts, lightly knocking on the door.

“Honey? You alright?” He asks, pressing his ear against the door, trying to listen to what you’re doing.

“Is everyone gone?” He can hear your sweet voice and he can feel his heart flutter and clench.

“Yea baby they’re gone. Can you let me in please?”

Maybe it’s a little dramatic but he’s getting a little annoyed that this stupid door was separating you both when he’d rather have you in his arms. He hears the door click, signaling it’s unlocked and he steps back. You slowly pry open the door, his eyes widening.

Your body adorned a baby pink lingerie set, one that Yuuta had sent you a picture from where he was, saying you’d look stunning in it.

The bedroom smells cozy, candles littering the room, rose petals as well. He’s at a loss for words yet despite everything he can’t tear his eyes from you.

He watches you pull your lips between your teeth, a feeble attempt to hide your nervous fidgeting. His mouth has gone dry and it’s gaping.

“Oh baby.” He says breathlessly, his hands finding comfort on your waist. You gulp, your hands lightly resting on his shoulders.

“Surprise?” You laugh and he smiles widely, only a smile that you could pull from him.

“Jesus Christ Angel , you’re gonna kill me.” He sighs, his grip on your waist tightening, a way to try and ground himself.

“Happy birthday Yuu.” You kiss him, making him sigh into it, pulling you impossibly closer. You pull away, a shy smile on your lips.

“I’m your birthday gift.” You smile and he laughs.

“Yea? Best gift I could ever receive.” He picks you up so easily, making you squeal, wrapping your legs and arms around him.

“Wait! I’m not finished!” You exclaim, as he places you down on the bed.

“What is it?” He asks, playing with your hair.

“You can do anything you want with me.” You smile and he melts.

“Anything?” He raises his brows and you nod.

“Thank you pretty, I just wanna make love to you so fucking bad right now.” He rasps, tearing off his shirt.

He’s on you in an instant and it makes you giggle. His hands are everywhere, feeling up all of your body.

“You’re making me go crazy, dressed like this for me.” He whispers against your lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Just for you Yuuta.” You moan in his mouth and he growls. He kicks his pants off, his hands ghosting the straps of your top.

“Debating if I should fuck you in this or not.” He gasps out and you sit up.

“Whatever you wanna do baby.” You say, your hand rubbing over his clothed cock.

He hisses, grabbing your wrist. He lays you against the sheets once again. There wasn’t any part of your body that wasn’t covered with his kisses and marks.

So giving that, he’d decided to undress you, leaving you both bare and basking in each other’s warmth. You’re breathless under him, squirming and a moaning mess. He found it all to cute, you were so perfect.

Putting in this much effort just because it was his birthday, letting him have you like this just because you loved him. After paying your body a little too much attention, he’s straining against his boxers, no longer having the patience.

“How you feeling pretty?” He asks, pulling down his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach.

“Empty, need you Yuu.” You pout and sighs from your words.

“Gonna fill my pretty girl up yea?” You nod as he guides his cock to your gaping hole.

You both share a loud moan as he sinks in, gripping his shoulders to the point, crescents formed on his skin from your nails.

“So big.” You whine and he twitches.

He almost pulls out, before he’s sheathing himself inside you once again. His hands find yours, trapping them with his big hands. He panting above you, already pussy drunk from your wet heat.

“F-Fuck baby, m’not gonna last. Been so long since I’ve been inside her.” He whimpers, shoving his face in your neck.

“S’ok just want you to feel good. Let me take care of you.” You say out of breath.

Even in your fucked out state, you push him, now straddling his lap. You quickly sink down on him and a guttural moan leaves his throat.

“Ngh—so tight pretty, shit.” His head hits the pillow as his mind goes mush because of the way you work your hips down on him.

He watches you in bliss as your face contorts in pleasure, the way he’s the one that can only elicit such pretty sounds from your mouth.

“I-I love you, love you so much you don’t understand.” He babbles, thrusting into you. You clench around him and he stutters, letting your hips roll down on him.

“Love you too Yuu.”

He pulls you in a messy kiss, saliva exchanged, tongues fighting for dominance.

“ ‘m gonna fucking cum.” He grunts against your lips, brows pulled together.

“Cum with me baby please, please.” He begs, one of his hands moving to rub at your clit. You gasp, and clench around him.

He leans up and kisses you as you both finish. You’re both breathless against each other, your hips are still rolling against him, milking him dry. He whimpers under you.

“Such a good girl.” He rasps, staring up at you and rubbing your thighs comfortingly. You pull off of him, falling on top of his chest.

He smiles down at you with all the love in the world. He combs his hands through your hair as you draw shapes on his chest.

“I would offer a nice warm bath but you really did a number on me.” He laughs and your heart swarms at the sound.

“It’s okay love, this is nice.” You cuddle up more against him, draping a leg over him, your arms enclosing around him.

“I miss you a lot Yuu.” You mumble against his chest, suddenly feeling sad. The look on your face pains him, it makes him want to cry.

“I do too, you’re such a strong girl, waiting for me like this, you deserve so much better.” He sighs. Your head snaps up, your eyes blinking rapidly.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Your voice wavers and your hurt expression makes Yuuta’s heart stop.

“N-No! I would never! Well I mean, only if you wanted to but you know I can’t.” He caresses your cheek.

“I’d never leave you, you’re the only one I want.”

And he means those words with everything that he is.

He hopes that the promise ring in his bag was enough to prove that as well.

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

#—jjk #okkotsu yuuta x you #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu smut #okkotsu yuuta fluff #yuuta fluff #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta scenarios #yuuta headcanons #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu fluff #yuta okkotsu smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu #jjk okkotsu #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk yuuta #yuta x y/n

[stvolanis]

BIRTHDAY BOY

(one shot)

PAIRINGS: Elvis Presley x wife! Reader

WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff! Not proofread, clingy reader, no use of y/n, slight angst (Elvis thinks reader forgot his birthday), surprise party, kissing, pet names, the Memphis mafia been goofballs

NSFW WARNINGS: p in v sex, oral (m receiving), slight ball play ig?, light choking, hair pulling, daddy kink (duhh), cream pie, breeding kink, lingerie

sorry if I missed anything!! And happy birthday to the king of rock n’ roll<3

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

The entire day you and Elvis’ Memphis mafia have been planning is birthday party. His dad even started helping out.

It was going to be spectacular. You’d ordered a large 5 layered cake with buttercream frosting and strawberries, and written on top in cursive was ‘long live the king’ with a little 25 under it.

The house was decorated in head to toe with gold and white streamers, balloons, confetti, and any other kind of decor you could imagine fit for the king of rock n’ roll.

Elvis Presley had been gone for a week, taking on an acting gig in Florida, Miami. You missed him dearly, but you knew he was coming home today. Every time he called one of the house phones who would always chat your ear off on how much he wanted to see you. You’d think he had separation anxiety (he does).

The warmth of his voice on the line brought endless smiles to your face, and his amazing voice made giggles erupt from your throat. Everything about him shined, inside and out. He was beautiful, and a very charismatic man.

He had a certain feel about him. In a way where everyone would stop what they were doing just to catch a glimpse of him. He could hold an entire rooms attention and keep it, and sometimes he didn’t even realize it. People looked at him as if he were a god, and hell, maybe he was.

Elvis was a giving man. If you knew him, then you’d know that he shined so bright, he made the people around him shine, too. And to Elvis, you shined the most. He adored you. Every little thing about you was imperfectly perfect to him in just the right ways.

Elvis was a good husband, despite what people in the press have said. He takes care of you more than he takes care of himself, and he does it with a smile on his face and love in his heart that he only holds for you.

Elvis always told you that you were his angel. You were sent by the heavens to watch over him, guide him and love him for all he is after his mother died. You healed him and changed a broken, distraught man into the brightest star.

But you knew it was the other way around.

You found each other in a hopeless state, but together you overcame it and helped each other. Elvis was always kind to you, even if you two had petty little arguments, he’d always make it up to you by showering you in kisses with little ‘I’m sorrys’. How could you not forgive him when he was the sweetest man you’d ever met?

He remembered every anniversary. Every birthday. Every Valentine’s Day. He showered you in gifts, attention, dates, and never shut up about you in the press. You were sure interviews were sick and tired of him ranting on about how ‘good of a wife’ you are like a lovesick puppy, but it filled you with butterflies knowing he held you in such high regards.

Elvis was your person, and you were his. You’d known that since the day you met, and the day he popped the big question on a Thursday night in Hawaii confirmed it. It’s been bliss since you’d known him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But now, you sat nervously on the couch, biting down on your manicured nails nervously.

You hadn’t answered any of the 4 times Elvis has called you, and you knew he’d be worried by now. It was his birthday, and you felt bad because you didn’t want to upset him—but the surprise will be all worth it.

You wore his favorite outfit. A light blue, low cut dress that ended mid thigh, paired with black marry janes and white socks that sat a few inches below your knees. You also wore a white pearl necklace that acted as a light choker, and to top it all off, a silver chain sat secured gracefully on your neck that read ‘E.P’. A beautiful necklace your lover gifted to you for your 2nd anniversary.

But you wore a secret under your pretty little dress that Elvis would surely adore later tonight.

“Everyone, I just got word that Elvis is down the road, get in your places!” Gunner, a mutual friend of you and Elvis, shouted. You quickly took your place around the corner from the door, so you could be the first person he sees when he walks through the large entrance.

The lights were turned off and the room was silent as you heard booming footsteps come up the familiar stairs of Gracelands’ entrance.

You sucked in a breath of air as the door swung open, and you could already feel his suffocating presence in the house.

“Baby?! Where ya at?!” He yelled out, his voice laced with concern as he began to move towards the stairs, assuming you were in your shared bedroom. You giggled a little, and Elvis’ head snapped to your direction. You’d been caught.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, honey!” You yelled out, along with everyone else. Elvis let out a breath of air he’d been holding in for what felt like all day. No matter how many times he’s left home, weeks on end, you’d never gone not one day without calling him and tellin’ him all about your boring day without him around.

He drug a hand down his face with a groan, followed by a deep chuckle as your body collided with his in a tight hug. He kissed the top of your head, and finally, you’d felt his arms around you again. And it’s was as if all of his love visibly seeped into you.

“Was so worried, satin. Thought somethin’ bad happened to ya.” He huffed out with furrowed brows. You laughed as you cupped his face in your dainty hands. “Nothin’ bad happened, Elvis. Just wanted to give you a lil surprise is all.” You muttered as you brought his face down to your level, giving him the tenderest of kisses.

You tasted like vanilla on his tongue, mixed with cherry from the cherry lollipop you always had in your mouth. Elvis wasn’t sure how you hadn’t gotten a cavity from it yet. Your hair smelled like fresh rose water, and he knew it was from your annual bath-soakings full of the best rose petals money can buy and scented bath bombs.

You were warm against him, your small body molding and fitting perfectly against him. He loved you. God, did he love you. His baby. His love. His wife. The woman he plans to bear his children. He couldn’t get enough of you

“I got you a cake, Elvis.” You smiled up at him. You were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Your smile was contagious to him, as he felt a grin spread across his face. “Yeah, lemme see it, baby.” He said.

You clapped your hands together, exited to see his reaction of the large cake, decorated to perfection. You took his large hand in yours and dragged him to where everyone else was in the dining room. On the table sat the cake, and Elvis felt his eyes widen at the mere heigh of it.

“Woah, that’s a lot of sugar, honey.” He chuckled out as he walked closer to take a good look. “Look at the top, El.” You urged. Like a good husband, he obliged and a chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“I love it, baby.” He said as he walked over and tightly hugged you, slightly lifting you off the ground in the process. “I’m glad! I hoped you would.” You said happily.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before the Memphis mafia swept him away from you. “Sharing is caring!” They yelled with loud boyish chuckles as they went to the pool room. Elvis mounted an ‘im sorry’, to which you merely giggled.

All throughout the night Elvis was occupied with his family and friends celebrating. You knew you shouldn’t, but you had to admit that you felt kind of neglected. In more ways than one.

He’d looked so unbelievably handsome all night, and you couldn’t help but become all hot and bothered as the night continued. You watched him play pool with his friends, his arms were exposed and fit. Elvis was no muscle maniac, but he had just the right amount for your mouth to start watering like a bitch in heat at the sight.

You finally built up enough courage to speak up about it as you walked over to where he stood in all his glory. His back was now facing you as you lightly gripped his arm to grab his attention, making him spin around to look at you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, his accent thick. You grew shy as his friends grazed in on the interaction, being nosy. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, and Elvis understood as he slightly leaned down is you could whisper into his ear. “M horny, Elvis.” You muttered, barely just loud enough for him to hear.

Elvis lightly hummed. “S that right?” He asked, and you nodded in confirmation. “Alright, don’t worry, sugar, I’ll take care of ya.” He stated.

“I’m done for the night, fellas.” He said as he tangled his fingers with yours, pulling you away from the group of men. They whistled knowingly, followed by a few hollers, making your cheeks flush red and bury yourself in Elvis’ side. He chuckled as his arm wrapped around you, walking up the stairs to your shared room.

He opened the door for you and flicked the lamp light on. “I got another surprise for you.” You muttered, shy under his gaze. He peered down at you. “Yeah? What is it, baby?” He asked, his breathing heavy.

You began to slide your dress off of your shoulders, below your breasts and down your hips before letting it fall to the floor beneath you. Elvis’ mouth watered at the sight and he felt his pants tighten uncomfortably, his slacks suddenly becoming too tight in his crotch area.

There you stood, in a baby pink lingerie set. Floral and lacy, nipples and pussy barely covered by flimsy fabric. Your thighs covered in garters with little pink flowers embroidered onto them delicately. What made Elvis go over the edge though, is when you turned around to show him your perky ass.

In cursive, sat nice and pretty was ‘Elvis Presley’.

He felt like he could cum in his pants right then and there.

“D-do you like it?” You asked, nervous at his silence. He scoffed. “Like it? Baby, i fuckin’ love it.” He said, spinning your around to face him before sliding his hands past your waist, down to your ass, tightly squeezing both of your ass cheeks.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him. “Yeah?” You whispered as his leaned down. “Fuck yes.” He muttered before his lips crashed down onto yours in a heated kiss.

It was sloppy as your tongues tangled with each other, you fighting for some kind of dominance that you knew Elvis wouldn’t allow. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him groan, biting your lip in retaliation. His hands squeezing the fat of your ass tighter, gripping you impossibly closer to him.

“Let me make you feel good, Elvis.” You breathed out against his lips. He merely clicked his tongue. “Hm?” He asked again. Your legs rubbed together, slick coating both of your inner thighs.

“Please let me make you feel good, daddy.” You repeated, more desperately this time. He groaned in satisfaction. “Good girl, go ahead, baby.” He urged.

You dropped to your knees and watched as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop to the floor. You licked your lips at the sight of his leaking cock, standing hard and ready for you in any way you can take him. He was long and girthy, balls hung, seemingly painfully full. Your core ached to relieve him.

You licked around his tip before licking his slit that leaked slaty pre-cum, and his hiss was enough for you to suck his tip into your mouth. “Fuck!” He yelped out as you sucked harshly, before taking him deeper into your mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down, your hands reaching to fondle his aching balls. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was giving mind blowing, other worldly head. Your little mouth drove Elvis beyond crazy, wether it be for talking shit or having his cock in it.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you effortlessly deep throated his cock, and you felt him throb in your mouth. You gagged around him, making him throw his head back and let out a desperate moan.

“Yess, fuck! Just like that, honey. Suckin’ your husbands cock so well. Takin’ such good care of me.” He breathed out. You knew he was about to cum as his fingers found their way in your large hair, gripping tightly. “M gonna cum, baby. Shit.” He moaned out.

Your mouth moved to suck one of his balls into your mouth and your hand moved quickly to stroke his needy cock. Your hand moved fast, your fist tight around him. It was all too much, the way your mouth sucked his balls in like a vacuum and your hand stroking his hand at a quickening pace.

His cum spurted from his cock, and your mouth shot up just in time to get it in your mouth. You sucked his tip, milking him of all the cum he had stored away in his heavy balls. “Holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ good, soso good f’me.” He said, mouth hung agape as you released his tip with a loud ‘pop’.

You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him the cum that rested on your tongue. He licked his lips and felt his cock harden again. “Swallow.” He said. And like the good little wife you are, you listened..

“Good girl. Now, getcha’ lil ass on the bed n’ bend over f’daddy.” He said as he helped you to your feet, slapping your ass playfully as you passed by him to the bed, making you giggle.

You bent over, legs spread enough so he could see the thin string covering your pussy that was now a darker shade of pink from your juices. “Look at you, all nice n pretty. All this for me, sweetheart?” He asked as he slipped the thin string to the side.

You nodded your head feverishly. “Yes, daddy. M’only wet f’you.” You muttered as you teased your ass into the air, pushing it towards him. He swatted your asses harshly, once, twice, before he lined himself to your entrance.

He teased his tip into you, making you groan. “Please, please, please—“ you chanted like it was a prayer. His hand snapped to your hair, leaning your head back. “You take what I give you, wife.” He muttered as he tenderly kissed your forehead.

“Yes, daddy, m’sorry.” You muttered out, gasping as you felt his cock enter you without warning. His tip kissed your cervix, and your mouth hung open, throat going dry. “Shit, so tight. Grippin’ my cock so good.” He huffed out.

“E-Elvis!” You whimpered out, the sting making your eyes water. His heart ached at the sound of you in any kind of pain. He peppered sweet kisses along your spine and on your shoulders in reassurance. “S okay, m’ gon’ take care of ya, don’t worry.” He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

Your stomach felt like it was doing summer salts and butterflies exploding in it all at once. You loved him more than words could ever describe and nothing in the world would ever change the way he made you feel, even 5 years deep into marriage, he still makes you fall in love with him all over again.

A wave of pleasure consumed you as you felt him re-enter you, picking up his pace at pounding into your throbbing cunt. “Elvis! Fuck! Just like that!” You moaned out.

Every time his hips slammed into yours, you released little ‘ahs’. The sound was like music to his ears. Knowing he was making you feel good, made him feel at least 20x better. If there was one thing he took pride in, it was pleasing his woman in every way he could.

“Gonna fill this lil pussy, you want that? Hm? Want me to fill you with my babies?” He asked, his hands gripped your hips. “Yes, yes, please! Need your cum in me, daddy!” You groaned.

He pulled out of you, flipping you around before re-entering you. “Wanna see you when we cum, yeah? Gon’ see ya beautiful fuckin’ face, honey.” He moaned out as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

He was pussy drunken and his mind was fuzzy as your walls squeezed him in a vice grip. He didn’t know how much longer he would last. “Daddy! M’gonna cum, fuck m’gonna cum!” Your voice high pitched, and your head thrown back. Elvis brought his hand up to your neck, squeezing your throat just enough to make you see stars when it was paired with his piercing cock.

“Need you.” You whimpered out, grabbing at his free hand. A thing you did that Elvis thought was the cutest thing, and adored so much, was that every time you came on his cock, you made sure to hold his hand. It comforted you and Elvis loved it as he reached his high. “I’m right here, satin. Gon’ fill this cunt.” He said, biting his lip.

“Oh!” You moaned out as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, covering Elvis’ lower abdomen in your vile juices just as he painted the inside of your walls white with his seed.

He fucked you through your orgasm, and you could feel each time his cock spurted out a new round of cum inside of you. His balls tightening as your sweet pussy milked him, and all he could think about was how nice and round you’ll be with his babies. The perfect wife.

Your hand reached up to lovingly cup his face, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his bitten lips.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

tag list: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts

#elvis presley #elvis presley fandom #70s elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis x oc #stvolanis #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x reader #elvis fans #elvis the pelvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the king #60s elvis #50s elvis #elvis music #elvis history #elvis presely smut #elvis photos

[madebycloud]

Love to Keep Me Warm

tara carpenter x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you spend christmas with your girlfriend warnings/themes: baking (burned) cookies, dancing around the kitchen (cliche but… I WANTTT), watching holiday movies, kissing under the mistletoe, matching pjs & sweaters, cuddles, and… a little bit suggestive convo at the end i guess??? words: 1.2k

me posting another fic then dipping for month/s 🏃💨 —divider not mine

Hallelujah, it's almost Christmas! the TV announces as the snow falls outside your window.

In the living room, a towering christmas tree stands, adorned with twinkling lights and sparkly ornaments. The smell of baked cookies wafts through the air, but the aroma is not as appetizing as you'd hoped.

Tara, standing beside you, looks at the black-burned cookies with wide eyes. “I followed the instructions, but these cookies are ruined! I waited 12 minutes for this?! It says 12 minutes!”

You sigh, knowing your girlfriend's cooking skills all too well.

“We tried, didn't we?” she mumbles, still staring at the burnt cookies.

With a smile, you say, “Let's give it another shot,” taking the pan and dumping the burnt cookies into the trash, ready to give it another shot. “Who knows, maybe a second time's the charm?” You pulled a new mixing bowl out of the cabinet and grabbed ingredients to start over.

“I don't understand why this keeps happening,” she says with a laugh. “I swear, I've never made a good batch of cookies in my life.”

“Well, you know what they say—the best cookies are the ones that come out of the oven, burnt to a crisp,” you joke, trying to cheer her up.

“Ha ha, very funny,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But what do you think went wrong this time?” 

“I'm thinking we might need to switch up the oven temperature,” you say, turning down the thermostat. “A lower temperature could be the key to perfect cookies.”

She nods in agreement, and the two of you continue working together on the cookie madness, having a laugh and chatting it up while mixing, rolling, baking, and waiting for the cookies to finish.

“Hold up a minute,” you say, grabbing your phone. You browse your spotify christmas playlist for the perfect tune. “Christmas simply wouldn't be complete without these Christmas bangers.” You placed your phone on the counter.

You dance around the kitchen in matching pajamas and your matching ugly christmas sweaters, giggling and singing along to the christmas playlist. You dip her and spin her around, making her laugh hysterically. You both twirl and prance, bumping into each other like two drunken elves at a company party.

You're having so much fun that you completely forgot about the cookies until the timer went off. The two of you rushed to the oven, excited to see how the cookies turned out. When you opened the oven, you were delighted to see perfectly golden-brown cookies. They smell heavenly, and you can't wait to taste them.

“Ahhhh, this is the best Christmas ever!" Tara exclaims, picking up the first cookie and taking a bite out of it. “I think Santa is going to love these cookies,” she giggles.

“They're perfect.” You take another bite, licking the chocolate chips off your finger with a satisfied smirk. She gives you a small kiss on the cheek and then takes another bite of her cookie.

“Oh, we have to decorate these.” She grabs a green frosting tube and squirts it recklessly onto the first cookie.

You laugh and join in, squirting red, yellow, blue, and other colors onto the cookies until they are covered head to toe in messy frosting. 

“We need to add sprinkles!” Together, you run to the cupboard and rifle through the bags of sprinkles, trying to find the perfect ones.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, you come up with a variety of glittery, sparkly, and edible colors that you toss all over the cookies. 

“Voila!” Tara says, holding up a cookie for you to see. 

“These are the most horrible, beautiful christmas cookies ever.” you say as you examine the colorful, messy, and probably delicious masterpiece.

“You know what would make this even better? Some hot chocolate,” she says, grabbing a pot.

You both grab a mug and fill it up with hot chocolate. The steam rises from the cups, and the fragrance of chocolate fills the air.

“To another year of cookie disasters,” Tara says, raising her mug.

“To cookie disasters,” you reply, clinking mugs.

—

At last, you two finished cleaning the kitchen. The counters are empty, the dishes are washed and dried, and the oven is turned off. 

“Looks like everything was a success,” Tara says, admiring the clean kitchen.

You pick up the cookies and hot chocolate, inviting her to join you on the plush couch.

You sit on the couch with blankets wrapped around you, hot chocolate in hand, and cookies on the coffee table.

“Let's see what we have on Christmas eve.” She reached for the remote and flipped through the channels, eventually finding a holiday movie to watch.

Snuggled under the blanket, you sip your hot chocolate and eat your cookies. The movie is heartwarming, and you both feel your stress melt away.

“You know, I've always wanted to spend Christmas like this,” she says, leaning her head against your shoulder.

You smile and wrap your arm around her, pulling her close to you. “Yeah, me too,” you say, kissing her on the forehead.

You glance at her, trying to hide the shy smile on your face. 

She quirks her eyebrow at you, her full lips curving into a playful smile. “What?” Her hand sliding onto your arm and pulling you closer. “Are you admiring the scenery?” 

You quickly stand up, pretending to check something in the kitchen. You can feel Tara's eyes on you, waiting to see what you're up to. 

When you return, you're holding something behind your back that Tara can't quite identify. You sit next to her and reach behind her head, placing something on top of both of your heads. A mistletoe.

“You really know how to surprise me.”

She leans in, placing her finger on your jaw and pulling you closer until your lips meet hers. The warm, sweet taste of a mix of chocolate and marshmallows fills your mouth.

With your free hand, you reach behind her head, pulling her closer to you. She wraps her arms around your neck, bringing you even closer.

Your noses touch as your lips stay locked together, and the warmth of each other's breath sends shivers down your spine.

Tara pulls away, breathless and flushed. You both sit there, stunned, savoring the moment and the feeling of being so close to each other.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “You know what would make this evening even better?” She asks you with a sly grin.

“What? Are you hungry for more already?” you respond with a laugh.

She stands up and walks to the entrance of the bedroom. Reaching the doorway, she looks back at you, arching an eyebrow as if she's daring you to follow her.

Before you know it, you're following her into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click, shutting out the rest of the world.

But you're greeted by the unexpected sight of Tara peacefully sleeping in bed. You can't help but let out a disappointed sigh.

She sees you standing over her then gives you a mischievous grin. “What? Were you expecting something?”

You shake your head. “No, no, I just thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought we were going to…” you begin to say before trailing off. 

“Oh, you thought wrong,” Tara says, throwing back the covers and inviting you to join her.

She opens her arms wide and smiles at you, inviting you to cuddle up with her. 

“But you know what?” you say, burying yourself in the crook of her neck. “I think I prefer this.”

tara:

dsajhdahda anyways... (advance) merry christmas! <3

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagines #jenna x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream vi #scream #merry christmas #tara carpenter imagines

[mamaestapa]

Could you write a Christmas baking turned naughty with Joe burrow? Maybe you’re trying to bake some cookies for the Christmas party but he’s being all needy

Frosting Looks Better on You|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: Baking for the annual Bengals WAGs Christmas party takes a naughty turn

��warnings: fluff, suggestive language, horny joe, licking frosting off of body parts, allusions to smut

“Joe?” you asked sweetly, “could you hand me the frosting?”

He nodded at your request, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing the frosting from over by the oven.

You were currently baking and decorating cookies for the annual Christmas party for the Bengals wives and girlfriends. Each year you all throw a party, with each girl being responsible for bringing a different food or beverage. This year you were responsible for the cookies.

Joe handed you the bowl of homemade buttercream frosting. You grabbed the bowl and thanked him before going back to work on decorating the sugar cookies. As you were frosting the cookies, Joe was eyeing you from behind. He was eyeing you hard, too.

Something about the way you looked hard at work concentrating on making those cookies look perfect had him intrigued. The outfit you had in wasn’t helping his thoughts either. The all black jumpsuit hugged your curves perfectly and showed just enough cleavage to make him want to take you right there in the kitchen.

You had just frosted a fifth cookie when Joe had had enough of just admiring you. He needed you, and he needed you badly. He pushed himself off the counter once again, huffing out a sigh as he did so. You chuckled at the sound of your boyfriend’s dramatic sigh. You knew exactly what had him bothered.

Joe walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Tugging you into him as you picked up another cookie. You moaned softly at the feeling of his lips on your neck, sucking so harshly at the skin that you were sure he would leave bruises. He licked a stripe up your neck before gently biting at your earlobe. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling as your arousal started to grow. You couldn’t though…your party is in an hour and a half and you still had two dozen cookies to frost.

“Joe,” you whimpered softly as your boyfriend continued to suck violently at your neck, “I c-mph, can’t. These have to be done in an hour.”

“The cookies can wait, but you can’t and neither can I.” You scoffed lightly, trying to tear your needy boyfriend away from you. “Oh I can wait.”

You really couldn’t—at least, not anymore at.

“Your body says otherwise.” Joe smirked as his hands came up to your breasts, playing with your hard nipples. You shuddered at his touch, throwing your head back into his shoulder as he palmed your breasts. Joe always knew how to get you to unwind under his touch. You dropped the spoon you were using to frost the cookies.

“Besides,” Joe said as he let go of your chest. He turned you around so now you were facing him. He had a sly smile on his face as he spoke, “this frosting looks better on you anyways. Tastes better too.”

You eyed Joe as he swiped his index finger along the rim of the frosting bowl. He kept his eyes locked with yours as he slowly brought his finger down to your chest, spreading the frosting all along your breasts and cleavage. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his finger spreading the sweetness over your body. Joe continued to eye you as he sucked his finger clean. You bit your lip in anticipation, letting out a soft whimper as he slowly brought his face into your cleavage. Joe started to lap up the frosting in a slow-teasing way, making sure to look up at you every now and then as he licked you clean.

“Joey,” you moaned out as you brought your hands up to his blonde locks that were growing out again, “don’t stop, feels so good.”

Joe smirked as his chuckle vibrated against your chest, making your body jolt. “Wasn’t planning on it baby girl, now,” he put his hands on the back of your legs, bringing them up to your butt cheeks and giving them a generous squeeze. “Jump.”

You jumped up on the counter, pushing the cookie tray to the side as Joe removed his mouth from your sticky chest. You both let out a moan of pleasure as you kissed hungrily on the kitchen counter.

The cookies could wait.

this one was short but WHEW i got all giggly just writing it🤭

i apologize for how short this one was, but i think it still gets the job done ;) any joe smut is good smut in my opinion. i don’t have much to say bc i already gave my whole spiel on the first post i made lol

have a great day lovelies!🤍

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow blurbs #joe burrow smut #christmas blurbs #blurb night!

[squoxle]

Blow The Whistle ~ P.SH ff 18+

🩵🎂Birthday FF Special for My Hoonie🎁💙

❆pairing: Sunghoon!bf x Reader!gf | ❆wc: 1.4k | ❆summary: Sunghoon had recently picked up a side gig as a coach. But when he has to work overtime on his birthday, you have to think of another way to celebrate his special day. |❆cw: 🔞MDNI!! its smut honey...you know the drill

"Hey, birthday boy," you smiled as your boyfriend answered the phone.

You knew he was busy at work, but you just wanted to get an idea of what time he'd be coming home. You had planned a suprise birthday party for him and you were going to call a few friends over to celebrate. Everything was ready for him. You picked up a chocolate cake for him earlier and you had just finished placing the gifts on the table.

"What time do you think you'll be back home?" you asked.

"Uhh...I won't be home until after midnight," he sighed.

"What? Why?" you exclaimed.

"Well, today I'm in charge of cleaning the uniforms and skates for the kids. And we both know that takes a while."

"But--" you were cut off by the sound of his manager calling Sunghoon's name.

"Sorry, princess. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay. Love you," he quickly said before you let out a sad "I love you too" in response. He gave you two air kisses before cutting the call.

*Dammit* you swore to yourself. How were you supposed to surprise him now?

Just then, an idea popped into your head. You were gonna bring the surprise party to him. You quickly got dressed and ran to the store to pick up a few things. You also texted Sunghoon to let you know when everyone left and he was the only one in the building washing their supplies.

As requested, Sunghoon texted you when everyone left, just as he was gathering the dirty uniforms. Unbeknowst to him, you were already in the main lobby waiting for his text. It was around 11 pm when you put your plan into action.

You walked to the boys' locker room to find your boyfriend pouring a cup of laundry detergent into the top-loader washing machine.

You crept up behind him and wrapped your arms around him. "Boo!" you smiled as his eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I know. It was supposed to be a surprise," you tapped his nose.

"Ohh so that's why you wanted me to text you?"

"Yep," you replied as you reached up to place a kiss on his cheek. "Happy birthday, Sunghoon," you smiled.

He pulled your face closer to his and kissed your lips.

"Wait! I also brought you a jumbo chocolate cupcake," you said as you pulled out a cutely wrapped box.

"Since when was chocolate pink?" Sunghoon said as he opened the box, revealing a bright pink princess themed cupcake.

"Oh no...that's the wrong one...I should've double checked" you sighed, seeing Sunghoon holding the wrong cupcake.

"It's okay, baby. This cupcake is perfect because it reminds me of you. And what better way to celebrate my special day than with my special girl?" Sunghoon smiled before pulling you in for a hug.

You felt slightly better after hearing Sunghoon's reaction to what felt like the dumbest mistake ever, but you still wished it was the right one.

"Hmm yeah...well, here's the candle," you said, pulling out a single gold candle and placing it in the center of the cupcake. You carefully lit the candle and watched as Sunghoon blew it out.

Sunghoon stuck his finger into the pink frosting and licked it off. "I don't know why I was expecting it to taste like strawberry," he chuckled. "It's tastes like normal buttercream," he shrugged before dipping his finger in the frosting again, but this time bringing it to your mouth to taste.

You opened your mouth to suck the frosting off, when Sunghoon gripped the back of your head as you closed your lips around his finger.

He slowly moved his finger back and forth in your mouth before grabbing more icing, this time placing it on his tongue. You opened your mouth as he inserted his frosting coated tongue. You felt him glide the sweet cream across your tongue as you sucked it when he pulled away.

Gripping your jaw and tilting your head back, Sunghoon spit into your mouth and inserted his two fingers. You sucked for a while before he started to shove them deeper, causing you to gag. He bent down to bite and suck on your neck.

However, he bit just a little too hard and you could tell by the small drop of blood trailling down your neck that he quickly licked up, stopping the bleeding with his tongue.

"Hey, you can't eat me," you giggled, caressing his head that laid on your breasts. "Why not? Isn't it my birthday?" he teased before lifting you up onto the washing machine. "Well it is, but I'm not a peice of cake," you said squishing his cheeks together. "No, but you're my little cupcake," he smiled, showing his dimples before reaching to pull your sweater over your head, exposing your bra. He then removed his own shirt as he pulled your breast to his lips leaving kisses and marks all over.

You reached down to rub his dick through his sweatpants as he kissed your lips, neck, cheek, and breasts. You felt his hardness as he pressed himself more into your hand. He gripped you tighter as his dick twitched in your hands. "Ngh," he grunted before abruptly stopping.

"You want me so bad, don't you?" he said, lustfully starting into your eyes. You nodded your head as a devilish smile crept onto his face. "Then get down on your knees and show me," he said, as you climbed off of the gently vibrating machine, onto your knees.

You reached up to pull out his throbbing dick as he gathered your hair into his hand. You licked your lips before opening your mouth. "Hold on princess, you're forgetting something," Sunghoon said as he swiped the last bit of frosting off of the cupcake and shoved his sweet slightly dyed fingers into your mouth.

As soon as the icing was in, Sunghoon shoved his dick into your mouth ans began pumping into your throat. "Yeah, baby. Suck my dick and show me how much of a needy little slut you are."

You squeezed his thighs as you gagged on his cock, he pulled out just enough for you to catch your breath before shoving it back in. You sucked for a little bit longer before eventually using your hands to give yourself a break. "Mmm, fuck. You're doing so good baby," Sunghoon said you started to suck again.

He moaned a few times before pulling out of your mouth. "Ugh, f-fuck. I need that pussy right now baby, please," he whined as you stood to your feet.

Immediately he threw your body on top of the washing machine, pulled your pants down, and inserted himself into your pussy. As he was fucking you deep, you could feel your clit bracing up against the washer. The vibrations coming from the machine were stimulating you, causing your pussy to tighten around him. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned as he started to fuck you faster.

You struggled to stop yourself from moaning. "Don't fight it, baby. I wanna hear you scream," Sunghoon said before slapping your ass.

"Ngh, Sunghoon...I'm gonna cum," you whined weakly as the washing machine's speed increased making the vibrations stronger. "Good. I want you to cum all over my dick like a good little slut," he replied as you buried your face in your arms to muffle the sound.

"Uh uh. I said I wanna hear it," Sunghoon groaned before flipping you on your back on top of the machine. At this angle Sunghoon had full access to your dripping wet pussy and took one of his hands to stimulate your clit while he fucked you to your climax.

His veiny dick grinded agianst your g-spot causing you to squirt as you came all over his dick. You still felt your walls clenching around his dick as he pumped his hot load into your pussy.

You laid there on the washing machine with Sunghoon leaning over your body.

*BEEP BEEP*

The sound of the washing cycle surprised the both of you. Sunghoon looked at the clock hanging on the wall across the room. "Thanks for making my wish come true," he smiled, before kissing you on the lips.

"What was your wish?"

"To cum inside of my princess," he smiled mischeviosly, before kissing you again.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @nikisdubblchococake @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @nikisblkgf @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #sunghoon x you #birthday #birthday fluff #birthday smut #birthday ff #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #sunghoon fanfic #kpop smut

[luizd3ad]

Happy Birthday? | Poly!Moonwaterkiller x Fem!Reader One Shot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black x Barty Crouch Jr x F!Reader WC: 3,163 TW: Polyamorous relationship, swearing, teasing type of relationship, mostly fluff, slight angst at the end, slight talks of Regulus’s childhood, no use of Y/N Author's Note: This ship is inspired by @ellecdc please send her love. She's so talented and is just straight up amazing. Also I'm still new to writing so I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's not good/doesn't make sense.

Summary: It’s regulus birthday so you, Remus and Barty want to make it special but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

I made this ig mood board inspired by the guy idk ive never made one before

˙‧⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆

“Bartemius Crouch junior! I swear to all that is holy in this world! If you stick your grubby hands in the frosting one more bloody time!”

“Oh come on Lupin! You can’t blame me, it's just so fucking good!"

Barty yelled, waving his hands around trying to defend himself.

You couldn't help but laugh at hearing two of your boyfriends’ bicker while you put the chicken you just got done seasoning into the oven to cook. 

Admittedly it was quite entertaining and it helped distract you a bit from stressing over the cooking that still needed to be done and the small decorations that needed to be put up for today.

It was Regulus's birthday, so you and Remus had gotten Sirius to take Regulus out for the day so you and your partners could try and surprise him with a birthday dinner for just the four of you. 

You couldn't help but stress seeing as he should be home sooner than later at this point, and you wanted everything to be as perfect as possible since Regulus wasn't completely comfortable with celebrating his birthday still. 

He didn't find the idea of a party and things of that nature to be fun, he found it more stressful and anxiety inducing than anything. (due to his childhood)

So the three of you have always tried to do a little something to make it special for him and to show Regulus that you all love him but never anything too much as to avoid overwhelming or making him uncomfortable. 

“Barty, my love, how about you go and set up the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner?”

“Anything for you angel.”

Barty says with a look that he reserved for only you. 

It was love sick looks. The kind of look that could show the receiver every emotion the other person was feeling. It showed that you were loved by that person with their whole heart. The type of look that had both parties feeling vulnerable in the best way possible.

Even before you all had started dating, when you all were just friends in your earlier years at Hogwarts, he had always looked at you as if you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. 

He'd look at you as if you were the only good thing left in this world, and to him you were one of the only good things left in this world.

You and two other people that he held closer to his heart than he'd probably be willing to admit most days. 

Though that didn’t mean Barty didn't love Remus and Regulus.

It also didn't mean it was a secret of how much Barty loved Remus and Regulus. In fact he loved them with all his heart. He expressed how much he loved them somewhat often in his own ways.

Especially since he could be known for his flair of the dramatics at times, he had expressed many times that he loved the three of you more than anything. 

Not that anyone could deny, or question it. More like no one would dare to deny or question it. 

Barty has expressed many times how he'd burn down cities, commit unspeakable acts and take on any unforgivable in a heartbeat for Regulus and Remus.

The love Barty held for them two was the kind of love that was teasing and could be chaotic in the best way. 

The type of love that could only be described as a ‘I can pick on them but you can't pick on them because they're mine’ in the most loving way Barty could possibly manage. And may the gods help any poor soul that ever tried to mess with someone who he deemed as his. 

But the love he had for you was a softer kind of love, it was sweet. The kind of love full of things like love sick looks, soft touches, sweet kisses and even sweeter words.

Along with the promises of burning down cities, committing unspeakable acts and taking on unforgivables’, who would expect anything less from Barty?  But I digress.

“Yes please, piss off for fucks sake.”

Remus says in an exasperated tone waving Barty away. Barty then gasps dramatically and clenches his shirt as if he was clutching his ‘pearls’. 

“You don't mean that, Remmy.” Barty all but whined. 

“Plus you couldnt get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

Barty states sending a smirk and wink at Remus, which Remus just responds with by rolling his eyes and hitting Barty with a dish towel playfully to distract Barty from the light blush that's undoubtedly spread across Remus’s face, as to avoid being teased further by him.

“Barty’s right Rem. Even if we wanted to, we're stuck with him, unfortunately.”

You say with a sarcastic little sigh while trying to suppress a smile that threatened to form due to the two men playful arguing. 

Barty then gasps dramatically once more and puts his hand over his heart as if you just stabbed him in the heart as Remus snicker at Bartys reaction and to your comment. 

“Not you as well, angel. You should know that words hurt. You've wounded me, you've basically killed me.”

Barty then pretends to sob as you and Remus shake your heads with smiles on your faces due to his behavior.

“Gods you’ve been spending way too much damn time around Sirius.”

Remus says while rubbing his hands over his face trying to hide his smile. You chuckle and walk up to Barty and give him a hug giving him your best ‘I'm sorry’ look. 

“I’m sorry Barty, I just couldn't help it. Remus has influenced me far too much.. Blame him.”

You say in fake sincerity with a small nod as you hear Remus huff at your comment.

Barty lets out a chuckle and hugs you back with a smile on his face looking down at you as he holds you. 

“It's okay angel, I could never stay upset at you. Lupin on the other hand..”

Barty drags out the end of his sentence with a small smirk on his face as Remus scoffs dramatically at his lovers’ statements.

“Really love? It's my fault is it?”

Remus says with his head tilted to the side and eyebrow raised, as if daring you to continue saying that he should be the one to blame for your ‘cruel’ comment to Barty. 

“Actually Lupin,  I think it is your fault.” Barty stated apparently agreeing with you.

“And what has brought you to that conclusion Junior?” 

Remus says as he walks toward the both of you with a small smirk on his face.

“My angel was just that, an angel. That was until you lot got your Gryffindor hands all over her.”

Barty says with a small shrug, feeling as if his point was valid and made sense. You supposed for Barty it did.

“Is that a fact?” Remus asked while getting closer to you and Barty.

“Yeah, Lupin it is actually.”  Barty says, giving Remus a somewhat challenging look.

“You don't seem to complain when I have my Gryffindor hands all over you, Junior.” 

Remus then winks at a now blushing and flustered Barty. You then cover your mouth trying to hide your own blush while also trying to suppress a giggle.

Barty tries to say some kind of come back and it  just results in him stuttering.

“W-well I- Goddamnit! That’s not fair Lupin!”

“All's fair in love and war Junior.”

Remus says sending another wink at Barty and smirking at you while Barty stares at him with wide eyes in complete silence.

He had managed to make Barty Crouch Jr speechless.

That was actually one of the many things that Remus was good at, especially at the beginning when everything was still new and more unexpected. 

When the four of you were in that space where you weren't officially dating but it was clear to you and everyone who'd been around your little group that you four had very strong feelings for each other.

It had taken Remus no time at all to get comfortable with having at least one of you flustered almost all the time, usually to the point of stuttering or speechlessness. 

He loved seeing you three like that.

Especially Barty.

Barty wasn't someone you could easily make blush let alone actually fluster, especially with just words so whenever Remus would manage to make Barty speechless he felt like he won a reward. 

Barty would never admit it but it was clear as day that Remus was good at making him a flustered stuttering mess. 

And Barty hated it.

“Now love. I believe someone owes someone an apology for trying to place blame.”

Remus says, walking up to you now at arms length and giving you a pointed look now waiting for an apology. 

While Barty mutters a ‘fucking hell’ under his breath and runs his hand through his hair as he walks towards the kitchen counter still mumbling quietly to himself.

“I'm sorry moony. Truly. Do you forgive me?” You say somewhat sincerely knowing Remus doesn't really care all that much. 

“I could never stay mad at you, love.”

Remus says with a small smile he then cups your cheek and gives you a kiss on your forehead, you lean into Remus's kiss taking in the moment and enjoying the affection from your boyfriend.

When suddenly you and Remus feel a cold, grainy substance rain down on you, which you both quickly realize is flour once the shock wore off.

You then hear a familiar giggle, and turn to see none other than a proud looking Barty standing now several feet away, covered in white powder himself. He just stands there proud of himself as if he didn't just cover you both in flour.

As you stare at him wide eyed and mouth a gasp, he just gives you a cheeky little smile.

“You did not just do that Junior.”

“Oh but I think I did, Remmy. That's what you get for teasing and being mean to me.”

Barty then sends a little wink to you and a somewhat apologetic smile.

“Sorry angel. Collateral damage, you understand.”

Barty says with a small shrug and a tone that makes it seem like it's the most reasonable thing that he has ever done.

You simply nod with the most convincing smile you could possibly muster in that moment.

“Of course my love. I understand.”

You say walking near Barty and grabbing a bowl that's filled with whipped cream that you had made earlier. You then walk closer to Barty and with a smile on your face.

“And you'll understand when I do this.”

You say while grabbing a handful of whipped cream and throwing it at Barty just for him to duck in time ending with the cream hitting Remus in the face. You gasp and cover your mouth trying not to laugh as Barty busts out laughing.

“Oh shit Rem! I'm so sorry.”

You say trying hard and failing to suppress your laughter, while Remus wipes his eyes off with his hands.

“It's okay love. All’s forgiven. Just come and give me a kiss.”

“Ummm I would love to, honestly I would… After you clean your face, that is…”

You back away from a now smiling remus while he opens his arms for you and starts walking closer to you. 

“No, now would be fine for me.”

Remus proceeds to walk closer to you as you start to back away towards Barty who's starting to calm down from his laughter.

“Why not kiss Barty?! This is all because of him anyway!”

Barty then gasps.

“Angel! I can't believe you'd throw me under the bus like that… Is it bad that I liked it?”

Barty asks the last part more to himself than to anyone else. He was so caught up in his thoughts for a second that he didn't notice you now using him as a human shield, that was until he felt a clump of whipping cream on his head and looked to see a smirking Remus. 

“Oh. This means war.”

All of a sudden it was every person for themselves. The kitchen was now a war zone. Flour, whipped cream, sugar, powdered sugar, fruits and berries were being thrown all over the place. It was pure chaos. 

The Three you were making a mess out of the kitchen and even bigger messes of yourselves.

Next thing you, you’ve been thrown over Remus’s shoulder while Barty is chasing Remus around the kitchen. 

There’s so much going on, so much laughing and screaming that no one heard the door open. Which meant no one heard Regulus make his way to the kitchen, and so no one noticed him standing in the doorway till you heard him speak.

“I leave you alone for a few hours and suddenly the kitchen explodes?”

Regulus in all his stoic glory just stood there not even looking a little surprised.

All three of you stopped running around, suddenly feeling like kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Then all three of you look at eachother then at Regulus.

“Happy Birthday?” You, Remus and Barty said accidentally making it sound more like a question than in an enthusiastic way.

Regulus just points at the oven says.

“The ovens smoking.”

“Oh shit! The chicken!”

You yell as Remus puts you down and he rushes to the oven to take out the now burnt chicken as smoke fills the kitchen.

“Sooo… Chinese?” Said a very uncertain Barty  

After opening some windows, having the Chinese food delivered, a few showers and quite a few cleaning spells the four of you ended up on the couch with a movie on not many words being exchanged.

After the movie was finished and the food had all been mostly finished Remus had brought out the cake that he managed to finish decorating while waiting for the food to arrive.

The three of you had sung (or in Bartys case basically screamed) Happy birthday to Regulus while he sat there with a ghost of a smile on his face. After another hour or so the four of you found yourselves in your shared bed.

You couldn't help but feel guilty since Regulus hadn't really expressed any emotion which wasn’t necessarily not normal about his birthday. You felt like maybe you had upset him in some way, maybe you over stepped or maybe he was irritated due to the mess you Remus and Barty made. 

You were spiraling. 

Till you heard a whisper.

“Thank you..” 

It was quiet for a few seconds, you supposed no one really knew what to say.

“For what Black? I feel like we kinda ruined your birthday.” Said a almost half asleep Barty

“It wasn't ruined Junior! It just didn't go.. as planned..'' defend Remus who laid on the other side of you. 

You and Regulus laid in the middle of Barty and Remus.

“Would the two of you stop bickering for just a moment please?” You say with a small shake of your head and a small chuckle. 

The next second there's a small choir of ‘Sorry angel’ and ‘Sorry love’.

“What are you thanking us for, Reggie?” 

You say pushing some of his black curly hair behind his ear looking at him softly, though he probably couldn't tell since it was dark in the room.

The only light coming through the window from the half moon.

“For today.. I know it didn't go how any of you planned or would have wanted it to go, but still. It was nice. I spent most of the day with my brother though he can be insufferable, loud and dramatic most of the time, it was still nice. And then to come home to the three people who mean everything to me laughing and having fun... That was the best part. I know I'm not the easiest when it comes to celebrating my birthday but, your three and Sirius have been the only people who have ever actually cared for my birthday. You've never treated it like how my parents did. Never used it as an excuse to have a big party full of people I didn't know or care about just so it seemed like we were better then them or make it seem like we were the perfect family, even though it was evident that we weren't. You've always made it about me and always respected what I'm comfortable with and well I appreciate that. So.. Thank you.. I love you.. All three of you..”

“We love you too Reg.” You say quietly, giving Regulus a soft kiss.

“Awwww did Regulus Black just say he loves me.” Barty practically squealed.

Barty then pulls Regulus into him so Regulus’s back is to Barty's front and then proceeds to messily kiss Regulus all over the side of his face while Regulus tries and fails to get away from him.

Remus then starts to laugh harder than you had seen in a while, almost falling off the bed as he hears the bickering between the two (mostly on Regulus' part) and sees the shadows of a struggling Regulus and a very determined Barty. 

You can't help but start to laugh almost as hard as Remus as you try and get the words out to have Barty let go of poor Regulus.

The night continues for only a few more moments it's filled with more laughing and eventually sleepy good night kisses and I love yous.

To say the four of you had an interesting relationship would be an understatement. It could be messy and chaotic, it could be a fucking headache sometimes. 

But there was love. There was always love. 

There were mornings where the four of you would wake up and just lay in bed happier than any of you thought you could ever be.

There were tender kisses and loving touches.

Dreams and promisses of the future.

There were smiles and laughing fits that would fuel you for the days when you felt like you couldn't even get out of bed.

Admittedly, it was a lot most of the time. 

There were screaming matches and arguing at its worst times but at its best times it was you and three people that you couldn't see your life without. Three people that made life easier most of the time. People who could make you laugh till you cried and that would hold you while you cried and fall apart.

This was a life that none of you ever thought you'd have the opportunity to have, and ever so often one of you would feel like you didn't deserve the life you had.

This was the kind of life that probably wouldn’t exist for you guys in different universes. But here, in this universe? This is the life you have and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

⋆‧⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

#Barty Crouch Jr #Regulus Black #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #Regulus Black x reader #barty crouch jr x reader #moonwaterkiller #poly moonwaterkiller #moonwaterkiller x reader #the marauders #marauders #remus x Barty x regulus x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts #x reader #remus x reader #barty x reader #regulus x reader #regulus x barty #barty x remus #remus x regulus

[cerisereids]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞- 𝐞.𝐦. (𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞’𝐬 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

i don’t rly go here at this current moment in time but i def want to start writing for eddie more so im partaking in @carolmunson’s writing challenge!! details found here!

pairing- eddie munson x fem!reader

summary- you’re teaching eddie some baking skills ahead of your family’s holiday party. eddie accidentally lets some insecurities slip. you reassure him how much you love him.

warnings- this lowkey got kind of angsty but only for a little, insecure!eddie but we love him

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

thump.

the collision of soft cushion against the back of your head mats your hair and stops you in your tracks. you pause for a moment, hands settling on the edge of the small trailer’s kitchen. you bite your lip, almost annoyed at yourself that you find his immature behavior so endearing.

“really, eds? are you five?” you chastise lovingly, promptly returning the throw pillow exactly the same way it came.

“oof!” eddie exhales as the pillow comes into contact with his soft tummy, “i'm sooorrryyyyy," he fake whines, sauntering over to your spot in the kitchen, "god forbid i want attention from my girlfriend! didn't realize that was asking so much!"

you roll your eyes at his dramatics but sink into his chest as he encircles his arms around your waist.

"what are we making, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your temple before placing a kiss there.

"my grandmother's famous sugar cookie recipe. you can be in charge of the frosting?" you lean your head back onto his shoulder as you ask the question, your sparkling eyes boring into his uncertain ones.

he sucks in air through his teeth, "i dunno babe, i'm no good at this. in case you forgot, i burn water."

you stiffen in his arms, "don't be like that," you quip, "that's not even true! and you know i hate when you talk about yourself like that. so in case you forgot, you can do anything you set that pretty little mind to." you punctuate your little speech with a kiss to his forehead, hoping it seeps through his brain and he finally understands how amazing he truly is.

"thanks, babe," he mutters sheepishly, his humorous reserve gone, "how do i make frosting? i didn't even know it doesn't always come in cans until just now."

you huff out a laugh, "i brought my recipe book for everything," you explain, pulling out a small notebook full of your grandmother's scribbles, "so as long as you have measuring cups and mixing bowls we should be all set."

he takes a second to rummage through his cupboards, pulling out white plastic cups with faded labels on them- 1 cup, 1/2 cup, 1/4 cup, and so on.

"we don't have any like, nice measuring cups, is this okay?" he asks, voice still meek, cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink.

“as long as we have the right measurements, i don’t care what they look like,” you flash him your sweetest smile before planting a big kiss on his cheek. you beam when his cheeks flush even deeper.

“soooo…” eddie starts, handing you two mixing bowls and taking one for himself, “who’s all going to be there this weekend?”

you could tell by the unusual nonchalance in his tone that he was nervous, but trying to play it cool. after a lifetime of harassment for being who he was, you knew that the pressure of meeting your family was resting heavy on his shoulders.

“pretty much the whole crew,” you say as lightly as possible, but you still see him tense. “eds. they’re gonna love you. i promise,” you tell him with utmost sincerity.

“really?” he scoffs, putting more elbow grease than necessary into mixing the vanilla cookie frosting, “you positive your picture perfect family is gonna be okay with you bringing some freak to their annual party?” his words have bite to them, and they make you pause. “the fact that your family even has an annual christmas party is beyond me.” he mutters under his breath.

you know what he’s doing, you’ve been here before. eddie sometimes feels insecure about the disparities of his upbringing, and you know by now that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. his bitter words are his armor, protecting him from the vulnerability he shied away from for years. that doesn’t mean they don’t sting, though.

“eddie, if you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” you rest your spoon on the lip of the mixing bowl and turn to him, “i love you. everything about you, and my family loves me. which means that they’re going to love you no matter what, because you’re important to me.”

he’s still not entirely convinced, so you opt to pull out the big guns, “eddie. do you love me?”

his eyes snap to yours, wild and incredulous, “of course i do. what kind of question is that?”

“as cheesy as it sounds, that’s all that matters sweetheart. they’re going to see how sweet you love me, and that’s all they’ll need to know you’re amazing,” you thwart his attempts to make himself smaller, “unfortunately for you, babe, you can’t hide from me at this point. i see all of you, i know all of you, and i love all of you,” you move to wrap your arms around his middle, eyes boring into his so he can feel your sincerity.

“you-you really like that?” he chews his bottom lip, “all of me?” the last part comes out quiet, and your heart cracks in your chest.

“i love it, eddie. i love you. i swear i want to go back in time and beat up all those little assholes who made you feel otherwise,” you seal your words with a kiss on his lips, a hint of vanilla frosting dances on your tongue.

“thank you, my love,” he says when you break, squeezing you to his chest in an infamous eddie bear hug, “i love you too.”

the two of you stood there for a minute, your nails scraping at the nape of his neck as he held you close.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson concept #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson story #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson thoughts #eddie munson writing #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader

[blackopals-world]

So this is Love?

Ace Trappola x Jester!Yuu

Ace trying to understand what is happening to him.

Ace doesn't do relationships. He's tried before and yeah he was an asshole. He can't admit it but he was so bored. It was the first date and yeah, she was pretty but he was tired already.

It's not like he led her on. He just didn't pretend he liked her. It's so goddamn exhausting. Ace didn't pretend he was the good guy in this.

He assumed that love and relationships just weren't his thing. Which was fine, but now...now it's different.

Ace originally thought Heartslabyul was going to be so lame. All the rules and no time to cut back but damn that was before Yuu showed up. Someone who knew how to have fun. The saving grace of Heartslabyul, the royal jester.

Every room they enter everyone lights up. Waiting for them tella joke or do a trick. Always bloating around in those elaborate costumes and leaving a trail of glitter as they pass.

Their makeup perfectly framed their face. Their lips were painted the perfect Heartslabyul rose-red against lily white.

Was he going insane? Did he think that their clown was attractive? Seriously?!

Sure, they sang well, had a sweet voice, a silly way of talking, looked good in those gaudy outfits, did that thing with their tongue when they focused in helping frost cakes, looked adorable then they tripped over a paint can and somersaulted over it with a smile ad covered in paint. That didn't mean he liked them.

If anything it was purely physical attraction.

He could ignore these feelings.

Ignore every time they pulled him in for another cake heist, every dance they had during parties, every time they whispered a joke in his ear, every kiss on the cheek they gave away carelessly, every hug that made felt so warm and comforting it made him feel like his chest was being crushed.

Could he ignore every daydream that felt like a dumb teen romcom? Like going on beach trips together, going to concerts, going to a real dance together as dates, and being able to kiss them in front of the school.

But Ace is realistic. He doesn't do relationships.

He's sure of it.

Watching them sit at Riddle's side on the special seat made just for them made it clear. Yuu was an existence that didn't belong to him or anyone for that matter. Yuu was here to make everyone happy and his feeling were just a part of that.

Man, that's fucked up...

Because no rationalizing made the feeling go away.

He wished sometimes he had taken Riddle's place. Then at least Yuu would be his jester. That would be nice, but there's no use sighing over it.

Ace had chosen to be content with being Yuu's friend until he was faced with the most undeniable proof.

One evening he ended up staying out late but rather than being yelled at by Riddle or punished by Trey he decided to stay at Ramshackle for the night.

Ace had no idea who answered the door. They were kind of plain-looking. No makeup, no glitter, hair was worn loosely, and a pair of glasses. They didn't look anything like Yuu but it was Yuu all the same.

Ace felt out of place as Yuu welcomed him inside. Yuu looked so relaxed and less energized.

"I'm just making dinner for me and Grim but I made extra in case you're hungry." Yuu said softly their voice was a bit scratchy at the end. " Sorry, I usually don't talk much after work. I use it so much it tends to hurt."

Ace only nodded, he didn't think he could talk if he tried either. He was still in shock.

Yuu in their dressed down style looked so...cute. Ace acknowledged it bitterly.

Yuu wore a thin turtleneck sweater and jeans which reminded Ace of a librarian maybe or perhaps a studious academic. Both things are not like Yuu at all or at least how people saw Yuu.

They ended up spending the evening watching comedy shows while Yuu studied. Yuu was actually very dedicated to their craft and read books on many subjects like crafting, chemistry, music, and politics.

"A true jester knows how to entertain but also knows their role is also to advise." They said highlighting the text.

As the night went on Yuu changing into a set of stary Pj's and put Grim to bed. Then the two of them watched shows until they fell asleep on the couch together.

As he listened to Yuu's soft heartbeat and even breaths Ace knew he had to give up.

Ace didn't do relationships...until now. Because now he was in love.

#ace trapolla x yuu #jester!yuu #yuuniverse #twst ace #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu

[holdinbacksecrets]

uninhibited (and drunk) voicemails from seventeen

forever sending gratitude and love to j @un-love for helping assign these

seungcheol: “i watched you tonight with another man. he held your hand and kissed your forehead. he drank your tea first to check the temperature. he made you laugh. for real. i know because you covered your mouth, still feeling insecure about how far it opens when the reaction can’t be avoided—when the something said was so funny it surprised you. you’re wearing red. your arms were exposed for a while, and i felt my eyes prick with tears at the sight of more tattoos on your skin. ones i didn’t know about. maybe ones you mentioned when they were still just possibilities in your head. not once did i think i wouldn’t see them actualized. not once did i imagine another man’s fingers brushing the ink through the motion of draping his jacket around your shoulders.”

jeonghan: “i’m at home and alone, and it’s wrong to call you. it’s so unfair to call you. i didn’t know how to tell you that the wanting is scary. that the way we love each other is impossible—not for a second do i believe it’s possible to have again, and i’m fucking afraid, probably because i know how much you’ve grown. the thought of letting you down leaves a sour taste, and i’m trying not to be so fucking afraid.”

joshua: “i’m sobering up now, sitting on my mom’s back porch. earlier, i was trying to describe the color of your hair. the best i could come up with was blue frosting like the cupcakes she made for my 10th birthday party. isn’t that outrageous? embarrassing? in my head was a poem, but the alcohol released the silliest set of words i could’ve possibly used to describe a part of you.”

jun: “everything is weird. everyone is strange to me today except for you. i’m drunk. i lost my shoes at some point in the night i think. i can’t recognize anyone around me. their voices don’t sound familiar. i wish you were here. i wish you’d tell me this is miserable for you too; it’s not worth it anymore. would you tell me the truth if i asked? sorry. what a stupid question. i don’t know anyone more honest.”

soonyoung: “i should’ve watched you all day more often. i dream about that. i wanted to, but something always had my attention or interrupted its focus on you. i’m laying here with my eyes closed, imagining all the moments i did watch and wondering if every single one pieced together could consume an entire day.”

wonwoo: “is it ok that i still have your spare key? i’d like to believe it’s something you’d ask to get back, but i wonder if that call isn’t worth making. if the idea of seeing me makes you anxious. but you trust me. out of everyone to still have access to your home, it’s ok that it’s me. i feel sad thinking about it.”

jihoon: “you baked cookies. i froze half of them. there’s one left, and i’m debating whether or not to eat it today. it’s freezing outside, and any view through my window is ruined by the snow. it feels like the perfect night for a cookie with what’s left of my second americano like i can risk losing sleep, but what will be left from you if i give in? everything else feels lifeless—it’s been so long since you’ve touch the clothes and read the books.”

seokmin: “i’m going to a wedding tomorrow. your old neighbor is getting married, and i thought about so many things when he sent me the invitation. i thought he was in love with you for the longest time. remember that? it took me months to admit. then he told me he’s just protective, and i realized there are so many people who see us and care without us ever knowing. so i wondered about a what if between us… what if our paths crossing was shallow and they never intertwined? what if you were just a woman in the grocery store who i’d see once in a while if the timing was right? how long would i think about you before forgetting your face, before forgetting i ever saw you? unless i never would and end up talking about you in my old age to adult children who only know i loved their mother.”

mingyu: “is it ok to call you in the middle of the night? you told me i could. years have passed since that conversation. *laughs* is it strange to think about us back then? how we started on a park bench, basically dated for two years on a park bench. i still think about how your approach to reach me gave away your feelings. you started poised, avoiding eye contact. then it became goofy looks and confident strides before calling my name and skipping to singing the song stuck in your head while you ran to me. i can’t help but wonder what would it look like now?”

minghao: “if you listen to this voicemail, can you tell me what you want? whatever comes to mind after hearing the question. from something small to something weird and the the thing you believe is better left unsaid as if i’d judge the answer, but i won’t. i have no reason to judge you. all i have is curiosity and love and hope for your every day, every want, every touch, every song you sing, every picture you hang, and every night spent barefoot on the balcony- i want to marry you.”

seungkwan: “there’s something on my mind. i’ve wanted to tell you all day. i thought about it at breakfast and started texting you before my manager called and interrupted. so here it is: i used to not understand how tired you’d be with me around. i thought i was boring you for the longest time until i visited my sisters. they exchanged a knowing smile before telling me you’re completely comfortable, that you feel safe enough to slip into the kind of vulnerability that only sleepiness and sleep allow, with your guard lowered, and your heart open. i appreciate how much of you i’ve seen, how deeply i know you—knew you… know you? hmm…”

hansol: “are you traveling? i hope you’re traveling. i know it’s something you promised to do at the start of your 26th year. where did you go? … are you taking lots of pictures? … how does the moon look? that’s your souvenir: the moon in the sky a thousand miles away from home. when you told me the moon thing, i realized i knew nothing about you, and i wanted to know everything.”

chan: “you were in the audience tonight? i didn’t… i wasn’t… thank you for coming. i mailed a ticket, but it was returned to sender. *clears throat* you’re the only person i couldn’t shake wanting to be there. do you know what i mean? people from our pasts we wish could still be present, especially for things they witnessed in early stages. i could shake off all the other absences… old friends, a mentor, but you… *sigh* no way.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #seventeen drabbles #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #joshua scenarios #jun scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jihoon scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #minghao scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #hansol scenarios #chan scenarios

[finelinevogue]

birthday boy

summary - harry’s birthday party ends up with cake frosting in his hair and your eyes

warnings: twinge of sadness but like it’s barely even there tbh, swearing, kissing, lots n lots of frosting

word count: +2.3k

pairing: fiancé!harry x reader

“Anyone need a top up?”

You were laughing with Glenne as she finished telling a funny story about her new intern. You couldn’t really hear what the story had been about, due to the obscene amount of noise in the room, but you laughed anyway.

“Yes please!” Glenne slurred, drunk on her birthday alcohol.

You were just as drunk, not because it was your birthday but because it was your fiancé’s birthday.

“Me too, please!” You held out your glass flute as the kind server poured more champagne into it, after topping up Glenne’s first.

“Me too, please!” You held out your glass flute as the kind server poured more champagne into it, after topping up Glenne’s first.

After you’d both thanked the server politely, you both returned to your conversations with each other. You’d both just needed a moment away from crowds to catch up on the evening gossip so far, so you’d come to sit on the velvet sofas in the corner of the room.

“Y/N, I have to say, you did a fabulous job on decorations this year.” Glenne cheered.

“I did?”

You looked around the room and evaluated what you had achieved. The mirrorball in the middle of the room shone a thousand diamonds down onto the dance floor, which was a black and white chessboard set up. There were fairy lights hung up around the walls. A balloon arch was in another corner of the room, where there was a rose wall behind it, for photo opportunities.

“Yeah! I love it!” Glenne looked around the room too, taking in all your hard work. “Jeff could never pull off something like this.”

It had taken you a couple of hours to set up the decorations and Harry had been all pouty that you had to leave him for so long on his birthday, but when you’d showed him what you’d been up to he fell in love with you a little bit more.

“I would’ve said neither could Harry, but something tells me he actually could.” You laughed, Glenne laughing along with you.

“Speaking of Harry… Have you two decided on a date yet?” Glenne nudged your leg with her heeled foot.

“Maybe May? I… We don’t know yet.” You sighed, shoulders slumping thinking about how you and Harry couldn’t agree on the perfect date for your wedding. “I mean, my dad can’t make any time in April, but Harry’s dad can’t make any time in June and we definitely want to be married before July, but…”

“Babe, woah, slow down. Y/N, this wedding, no matter how much you don’t want to upset anyone, is about you and Harry. It’s the one day in your life, apart from your birthday, where you get to be selfish. Take it as an opportunity to build a wedding day that you want, not anyone else.”

“Yeah you’re right.” You said so quietly not even Glenne heard.

“H’s version of a perfect wedding will be a day where you’re nothing short of perfectly happy.” Glenne shot back the rest of her champagne and placed it on the table in front of you two. “So, really, plan whatever you want.”

“Yeah” You nodded and placed your half full glass on the table too. “Alright, excuse me, I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure.” She nodded and stood up herself, pulling down her short skirt and tottling off to find Jeff.

You walked past flurries of people, waving hello to people across the room who caught your eye. A lot of people you didn’t know, but Jeff had told you to send invites to because Harry and Glenne would know them. They were mainly Hollywood people that worked in the music industry, but there were a couple of faces you did know.

Gemma Chan was there and you made sure she knew you’d come and steal her away later for a catch up. Asif Ali was also there and you would have to go see him too, in order to bring some more smiles to your face.

After you’d finished in the toilets you walked back into the room to see a congregation in the middle of the room. Since you had organised the event and had no additional entertainment booked other than the live band, you were curious to see what was going on.

When you got to the back of the circle, trying to peer over the tall people at the back, you noticed Glenne sat on a chair with her back to Harry who was sat on another chair.

You could tell by the look in your fiancés eyes that he was very tipsy. His hair was messy on the top of his head from all the dancing around he had been doing this evening. He still hadn’t pulled you for a dance yet, but you two had been separated ever since you’d walked inside the venue. Harry was whisked away by Jeff to meet people, having a drink each time he came across someone new, and before you knew it he was dancing to Gloria Gaynor with the chief executive of Columbia.

You missed him.

When it came to events like these, even though it was actually his birthday, he was always so whisked up in the business side of it that you had to entertain yourself. It was never that Harry abandoned you, but you would rather not have to over-socialise. You put it down to your social anxiety and fear of social burnout.

“Now, a little surprise for my two best friends.” Jeff spoke into a microphone so he could be heard by everyone.

Some sensual music started playing and you automatically assumed that it was strippers. Your heart sunk at the thought of Harry having a gorgeous girl straddle him and perform intimate positions with him. It would be unkind of Jeff if he had planned something like that. Your heart lightened when you saw Jeff stand in front of Glenne and start pulling off his jacket sexily, before rounding to Harry’s side and wiggling his bum in Harry’s face. Harry’s drunk self slapped Jeff’s bum and everyone laughed. Even you.

Harry looked around the crowd, his eyes not pausing their movement until they met yours. The mischievous glint in his eyes made you wonder what he was thinking. No doubt it was something to do with wanting you as his lap dance, rather than Jeff. Jeff was doing a good job though, making everyone laugh and making his wife embarrassed that she ever married him. Luckily everyone was too drunk to care.

After Jeff buttoned his shirt back up and put his jacket on, he was handed back the microphone, nodded at you and you knew that was your queue to go and get the cake. They were sharing a cake, as they often did, so you picked it up from the kitchen with its candles and sparklers in before carrying it back carefully.

When you returned to the room, the lights went dim and the birthday tune started to play. People made way for you to squeeze through the crowd as you walked towards the birthday kids.

You smiled when Harry’s gaze caught yours. He mouthed ‘wow’ at you, but you knew he wasn’t saying it about the cake. As you stopped short in front of both Glenne and Harry, they stood together whilst people finished the song. You sang out too, looking at Harry the entire time and watched his smile remain constant as he watched you sing out.

The cake was heavy and Harry must have noticed because he picked up the side closest to him and took the weight off you slightly. As the song finished Harry and Glenne both shared the job of blowing out the candles.

Jeff helped take off the candles and sparkler to clear the cake so it was just a plain cake remaining. Harry took the opportunity to try and smash Glenne’s face into the cake, but she restrained enough to resist the force of his hand. Harry wasn’t paying attention to Jeff though and missed him coming behind him and pushed his head down into the cake, until it was too late. The side of his face and a loose curl of hair got caught up in the frosting and people cheered as he made a mess of his face.

You laughed as he stood back up and licked the frosting from the corner of his mouth, as if that was all there was to clean up. You stood still holding the cake and looking at Harry with endearment. He looked so soft and cuddly, and maybe a little delicious too.

“What are you laughing at?” Harry asked, as he lifted the strand of hair back onto his head even when it was still full of vanilla frosting.

You shook your head and laughed at him, knowing he would be a mess to clean up later. It wasn’t a second later after that thought that Harry used his own hand to push your face into the cake this time. He also pulled your head back, using your hair, so you didn’t suffocate inside the sponge. You managed to get more on your face, looking like you were wearing a face mask. So much so you couldn’t open your eyes.

“Fucking dickhead.” You muttered, but it turned into a chuckle because you were drunk and didn’t care.

Harry must have asked someone else to get a hand on the cake so it wasn’t your responsibility anymore. It wasn’t like it was very edible to anyone, considering it now had to face impressions in it.

You felt Harry take your hands, your eyes still closed from the frosting, and you could feel him guiding you through the crowds of people. His hands were warm and even though you couldn’t see whether it was him that was leading you off, you could feel it in your hands that it was Harry.

No one else's hands felt like home other than his.

His hands cupped perfectly in yours and you tailed him like a bind and lovesick puppy. His polite excuses to get through the crowd made him feel closer to you also, his voice so comforting.

When the crowd noise disappeared you assumed you must have been in a quieter room now.

“Harry where are…”

You couldn’t ask him more than that because his lips were on yours. And they were his because no one else's lips felt like home other than his. They were perfect against yours, moving over yours with such delicate precision that only came with knowing how best to kiss you. Harry knew exactly how you liked to be kissed and he was doing everything you wanted. His hands were even cupped in the right places under your jaw.

“You taste like frosting.” He chuckled.

You laughed with him, probably looking silly with frosting in your eyes. Harry had frosting in his hair though and there was no one that you’d rather be in this situation in rather than him.

“Happy birthday, H.”

“Thank you.” He said softly.

You felt Harry’s fingers wipe carefully over your eyes and relieve them of frosting. You opened your eyes carefully to watch Harry lick the frosting off his fingers with his tongue. He then brought his other finger to your lips to allow you to lick it clean, which he watched with beady eyes as you did.

“Good frosting.” You hummed in delight, knowing you had made the right call with the vanilla, not strawberry, frosting.

“Mm. Tasted better off your face.”

You laughed, hitting him softly over his ribs, “Oh, stop it you.”

“Never.” He shook his head and smiled at how he managed to make you laugh.

“I hope you had a good night tonight.”

Harry had looked like he had had a good night, but you could never be too sure until you asked him. He was very good at putting on a front, especially in show business , but with you he was nothing but honest.

“I loved it, baby, I really did. Just wish I got to spend more time with you. I mean, I love my friends and, y’know, all of them other people… but they’re not you.”

You pouted, somehow wishing you could’ve spent more time with him. You tried your hardest to finish all the decorations as quickly as possible, but you were a perfectionist so it did take longer than originally planned. As for the party itself, you couldn’t stop him from talking to people, no matter how badly you did want him all to yourself.

“Sorry.”

“No, baby, there’s nothing you need to be sorry for. Just one of those things, where too many people want my attention and yet I only want yours.” He shrugged his shoulders and he made you smile.

“You always have my attention.” You promised him, cupping his cheek softly.

“And I’ll try to give you more of mine this year. In fact, come my next birthday you’ll be sick of me.” He chuckled and stepped closer to you, not liking the 10cm of space between you.

“Could never get sick of you, H. Never.”

“Feelings mutual, lovie.”

He leant down to kiss you again, kissing your bottom lip with his and sucking on it lightly. His lips grounded you and reminded you that he was right here and he was all yours. You kissed back with force, wanting to show how much you really did love him, pushing into his lips with your own.

A minute later and your lips both raw from such loving kissing, you gave each other one last peck.

“More of that later, baby. For now, let’s go the chippy? I’m fucking starving.” Harry whined.

“Alright, birthday boy, let’s go.” And the rest of the evening was filled with chips, gravy and lots and lots of love.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic #harry styles birthday #harry styles 29 birthday #fic rec harry styles #masterlist finelinevogue #harry styles fluff

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Birthday Wish » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything he could wish for his birthday.

Warnings: Fluff, language, two sexual comment (18+), kissing, use of pet names

A/N: Happy 107th birthday to everyone’s favorite Sergeant🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

The sun shined through the curtains when you woke up. You stretched and rubbed your eyes. You turned over to see your boyfriend sleeping peacefully. You smiled and leaned up, kissing his scruffy cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby.” You say sweetly.

Bucky groaned and rolled over, making you pout.

“You’re not excited for your birthday?” You asked, laying your head on his chest.

“No. It’s the same thing every year.” He says with a sigh.

“It’s not this year cause we’ve been dating for 6 months.” You say.

“That’s true.” Bucky wraps his arms around you. “I get to spend my birthday with you.” He smiles and kisses your lips. “No party. Just me and you.” He says.

“But-” Bucky gave you a warning look.

“Fine. No party.” You mumbled with a pout.

Bucky kissed you once more before getting out of bed to get ready for work.

“Do you really have to go to work on your birthday?” You asked.

“Yes.” Bucky says, putting on a shirt.

“Can’t you just call Steve and tell him that you’re staying home and spending your birthday with your best girl?” You asked, moving to the edge of the bed and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I could, but I’m not going to.” He says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You just looked at him with a pout.

“Stop the pouting. You know I can’t resist it when you do that.” Bucky says, trying his best not to give in and stay home with you.

“Is it working?” You asked, the pout remaining on your lips.

“Nope, not this time, babydoll.” He says.

You groaned loudly and dropped your head against his chest, making Bucky chuckle.

“You’re cute when you don’t get your way.” He says with a smile.

“So I’m not cute enough for you to stay home on your birthday?” You asked, pouting again.

“You’re always cute.” Bucky kisses you sweetly. “I’ll see you later, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You mumbled.

Bucky kisses you one more time before grabbing his jacket and left. You sat on the bed with a pout on your face. A smile grew on your face when an idea popped in your head. You got off the bed and got dressed. You went to the grocery store and bought stuff to make Bucky a cake for his birthday. You have more than enough time to make it. You put everything on the kitchen counter when you got home. Alpine jumped on the counter, curiously sniffing through the bags to see what you bought.

“I’m going to make a cake for daddy for his birthday.” You cooed, gently rubbing your hand across her soft fur. “But you can’t be on the counter when I��m making it.” You say, picking her up and put her on the floor.

You got everything out of the grocery bags and got to work on making the cake. You got creative while making it. You found a cake pan that’s in a shape of a heart which gave you an idea. You smiled to yourself and grabbed it, pouring the cake batter in it and put it in the oven. You set the timer and patiently waited for it to be done. While you were waiting, you grabbed your phone and texted Bucky.

You: I have something exciting waiting for you when you get home🩵

Bucky my love: What did I say this morning, doll?

You: No party. I promise you that’s not what I have waiting for you

Bucky my love: If it’s not a party then what is it?

You: It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you🥰

The timer went off when you sent the text. You practically squealed in excitement and ran to the kitchen. You took the cake out of the oven and put it on the counter, letting it cool off before you put the frosting on it. You scrolled through Pinterest to find inspiration. Creativity took over your body, along with excitement when you found the perfect design. You frosted the cake with white frosting and wrote “Happy Birthday, my love” on it with hearts around it in red frosting. You topped it off with a few candles.

“Babydoll, I’m home!” Bucky’s voice echoed through the apartment.

You ran to the door, jumping in his arms and kissed him passionately. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

“That’s one hell of a way to welcome your man home from work.” Bucky says, smiling against your lips.

You pecked his lips sweetly a couple times before he gently put you on the floor.

“Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.” You say, taking his hand in yours.

Bucky was about to protest, but he was curious to know what the surprise is. You carefully led him to the kitchen, standing next to the counter where the cake is. You lit the candles.

“Open your eyes.” You say.

Bucky opens his eyes, smiling when he seen the cake.

“Make a wish.” You tell him.

“Why would I need to make a wish when I have everything I could wish for in front of me?” Bucky says with a smile.

You couldn’t help but blush. Bucky leaned down and kissed you softly.

“Blow out the candles, birthday boy.” You say, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

Bucky blew out the candles and kissed you again.

“What did you wish for, baby?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You know I can’t tell you that, babydoll.” Bucky says. “I got my wish the day I met you.” He tells you.

You smile widely and stood on your tippy toes, kissing him passionately. Bucky placed his hands on your waist and pulled your body against his.

“Happy 107th birthday, baby.” You say against his lips in almost a whisper.

“Thank you, doll.” Bucky says, smiling against your lips.

Bucky pulls away from your lips to swipe his finger in the frosting of the cake and tastes it.

“This tastes amazing. I love it. It’s not as sweet as you though.” He says and licks his lips.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“It’s true and you know it, babydoll.” He says huskily, the smirk never leaving his face.

You couldn’t help but blush and lean your head against his chest.

“Let’s cut into this cake so I can unwrap my present.” He says, placing his hands on your hips and pulled your body against his, sending a shiver throughout your body.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #avengers #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine