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dearhargrove · 8 months ago

Note

Please pls pls write for Eddie Diaz🥺

Sleepover

Eddie Diaz x reader

summary You're on the way to pick up your son, Liam, but it's hard to get him to go home when he's begging to sleepover at his new friends house. Turns out you don't mind as much when you met said kid and his dad.

word count 995

tags fluff, reader simping over Eddie, kind of open ending

a/n I got this idea randomly so I hope you like this <3

part two

masterlist

“Liam!” You call out when you spot your eight year old son busy playing with another kid. Usually whenever he heard you he'd come running; with every year he turns older you expect his clinging to reduce but it never does. Not like you mind, he may be eight now but he's still your baby.

But today he just glances and waves before continuing to giggle and talk with his new friend.

You're surprised as he usually never stuck with one kid, most of the time he'd even stay by himself. It worried you, even when you figured he just preferred to be by himself and did it by choice and not because he was left out.

One of the teachers at the side shrugs with a smile after seeing Liam and his new friend.

You approach them and put a hand on Liams back before bending down and kissing the top of his head. “Hey, buddy. Did you make a new friend?”

He grins and nods eagerly, “Chris! We've been playing all day. He's my best friend!” You chuckle at the eager introduction and wave at Chris, who looked almost shy if not for the cute grin.

“Well in that case, it's nice to meet you, Chris.” He politely holds out his hand, “It's nice to meet you too, ma'am.” He says quietly and slowly. You melt on the spot and gently shake his hand.

Your son stands up quick enough to knock the top of his head into your chin, leaving you to grunt in pain as he excitedly bounces in his spot. “I have to sleepover at Chris' house!”

Your eyebrows raise as the two boys continue making plans about tonight. You don't want to be the killjoy but for one you had never met the other parents nor had they met you. Otherwise you would've easily agreed; you were just happy Liam had finally made a friend.

“Alright, boys, I'm afraid this won't work out… We don't even know if Chris parents are going to agree,” you say and pointedly look at your son who's about to pout (you couldn't resist him and you would not let him make you feel bad about making a reasonable decision).

“My dad will say yes. He always says yes.” Chris says seriously and pushes his glasses up with his index. You smile as both of them look at you with equally big, pleading eyes.

“I will say yes to what?”

You almost give yourself whiplash with how fast you turn around because whose voice is that sexy? You'd never heard anyone talking that attractive.

And surely when you look at him you basically faint. Brown hair that seemed to be a grown out buzz cut, brown eyes and white teeth with a grin that makes your heart actually stop for a second.

“Sleepover!” Liam yells and then turns shy when the man looks at him with a smile that should be illegal to look that good. “A sleepover? That sounds exciting.” He gets even more attractive in your eyes when he leans over and kisses Chris’ head in greeting. So he was great with kids too? Wow.

He then fixes his gaze on you and you do everything in your power not to fluster as he rakes his eyes over you and back up to look right into yours. “Hey, I'm Eddie. Chris is my son.” He extends his hand and you shake it before remembering to introduce yourself as well.

He smiles at you through it and if it wasn't for Liam gently clinging to your hand as he and Chris watch you and Eddie talk you'd have actually lost it.

“So these two want to have a sleepover?” The boys both yell in agreement and you laugh, shushing your son a bit. Eddie looks at you with a questioning look and you shrug your shoulders. He had something trustful about him and with the way he acted with both the kids he already checked a few boxes.

But still, this was your son and you wouldn't leave him overnight with - practically - a stranger.

“My dad is a firefighter, he will protect us.” Chris mentions and you look at Eddie in surprise. He chuckles a bit bashfully but nods, “I'm with the 118.” You hum in recognition, “I work at the dispatch center.” He looks surprised now and you chuckle as he comments, “That's a coincidence.”

After that conversation flows easy and after probably fifteen minutes is Liam who pulls your sleeve with an impatient pout. You coo and pick him up with ease, letting him wrap his arms around your neck as he sleepily rests against you.

“Chris is clingy too, I feel like I shouldn't be indulging him so much, but…” Eddie starts and you see him ruffling Chris’ hair with a fond look as the boy looks at his dad with pure adoration.

“It's hard to resist. Yeah, same here.” You hum and both of you laugh a bit.

The teacher takes note of both the kids being picked up and you start walking to the parking lot after getting the backpacks. Chris is on crutches you note and slow your steps for him to comfortably keep up.

“Sleepover?” Liam asks again after - you were quite sure - a nap. Eddie tilts his head and looks at you, giving you the chance to decide.

Wow. So far he's more than just a green flag.

“How about we do a few meet ups first?” You suggest and both boys groan but ultimately agree.

Eddie nods and after letting Chris into the car he turns back to you and holds out his phone with a small smile, “Just so we can, you know, organize their play dates.”

Your heart actually stops for a second before resuming twice as fast and you take his phone to put your contact in.

“I'll see you around.” You smile and wave, Eddie grinning too as he waves and gets in the car.

#911 fanfic #911 show #911 abc #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #Eddie Diaz fanfic #ryan guzman

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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, 👋🤗🤗

If you are still taking requests,

Can I ask for Toto wolff with Lewis Hamilton's older sister who is also a physiotherapist for Mercedes.

Big love 💝💝

falling for you | toto wolff social media au

pairing: toto wolff x hamilton!physiotherapist!reader

the mercedes team principle takes a bit of a tumble, and god forbid he takes advantage of the extra attention from his wife

masterlist

mercedesamgf1

liked by lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 1,093,778 others

tagged: yourusername

mercedesamgf1: we can confirm the big boss took a bit of a tumble earlier this afternoon, and we can confirm the only big injury was to his dignity. luckily for toto, mercedes physiotherapist y/n hamilton was on hand to look after him

view all comments

user1: bro i know that man is HEATED that sky had caught him falling

user2: i too would fall over and throw my back out for y/n hamilton to help me

lewishamilton: he's in good hands i can assure you

yourusername: you know it ;)

lewishamilton: okay don't make it weird

user3: i love how she said no to the merc uniform

yourusername: it's ugly :(

mercedesamgf1: y/n that's not nice

yourusername: my bad ... please still pay me

pierregasly: ouch i think i hurt my leg

lewishamilton: don't even go there

pierregasly: damn

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, lewishamilton and 301,871 others

yourusername: days off looking after this old man

view all comments

user4: okay but like they would be a hot couple

user5: i am seeing your vision

lewishamilton: how many tries did that picture take?

yourusername: only 12, toto isn't a complete caveman you know

user6: so they're actually on their own? i thought lewis would be with them

lewishamilton: god no, i wouldn't spend any extra time with those two, i wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy

user7: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

user8: so... they're together?

georgerussell63: who let him out of the house looking like that?

yourusername: he's still your boss you know?

danielricciardo: russell george i am hurt that's a beautiful jumper

lewishamilton

liked. by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 1,309,876 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: family time

view all comments

user9: so we're just dropping the family bomb now?

user10: can y/n look after me after she gave me WHIPLASH

yourusername: yellow is so my colour oh wow

lewishamilton: i think it's our colour

landonorris: can it be all of our colour?

yourusername: no ❤️

user11: i am still not over lewis now considering toto family

georgerussell63: i am feeling left out

yourusername: well unless you leave carmen for roscoe tough luck

georgerussell63: can i not just have a good faith invite to family dinners?

yourusername: no carmen, no entry

carmenmundt: ❤️

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 881,098 others

tagged: yourusername

mercedesamgf1: mama y papa

view all comments

user14: do they need a third? a dog? a maid? i'll do pretty much anything

user15: i love the fact that from toto faceplanting in the garage we got the reveal of the most iconic f1 couple ever (fight me)

yourusername: zoo wee mama who is that tall glass of water in the second slide 😮‍💨

lewishamilton: i may have wingmanned you but keep that stuff to yourself

yourusername: allow me to thirst over my fiance on main please

lewishamilton: he can't even see it though

yourusername: but yall can so you know to BACK OFF

user16: the way y/n is posted about by merc just as much as lewis at this point

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 550,871 others

yourusername: he only needed a kiss to make it better

view all comments

user17: hey siri play that should be me by justin bieber

user18: the way this could be about either of them

lewishamilton: i'm never gonna hear the end of this am i?

yourusername: nope

georgerussell63: and i thought i was obnoxious on instagram

yourusername: careful georgie i have many photos of toto shirtless but their for my eyes only

georgerussell63: i don't want to see them

user19: we DO

user20: please share ma'am

user21: didn't your mum ever teach you that sharing is caring?

note: i know this is a bit short, but i hope you enjoyed nonetheless !!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff instagram au #toto wolff oneshot

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strangerstilinski · 6 months ago

Text

𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙮

summary: Steve gives his best friend some admittedly questionable dating advice — but it all works out in the end.

fem!reader ~ just a silly and awkward little meetcute. alcohol consumption. lots of pining. far too many mentions of robin's freckles. and i threw in a silly moment with steve because, well, this is me we're talking about and how could i not? fluff [1.9k]

a/n: baby's first robin fic — wow! as always, please leave some love in the form of comments and feedback if you enjoy xx

Steve has practically sworn on his life that the pick-up line will work on you. On the condition, of course, that Robin delivers it with the right amount of cool nonchalance, with just enough flirty undertone to let you know her intentions.

So, naturally, Robin is repeating the phrase over and over again in her head, because the last thing she wants to do is screw up this monumental opportunity her best friend has practically laid out in front of her. Though, now that she's making her way toward you, she's belatedly realizing that Steve's confidence is almost entirely based on the fact that the line had worked on him when a girl used it at a party. Which was... Decidedly not the most reliable focus group, but she's determined to push past her fear regardless. Plus, Steve has technically shared more words with you than Robin ever has — even if that does equate to a single conversation to Robin's zilch.

Was it against her better judgment to willingly accept dating advice from Steve Harrington? Maybe, but she manages to swallow past her anxiety long enough to push the words out anyway.

"Is this seat taken?"

The words pull you out of where you've been lost in your own head. The music coming from the boombox at the corner of the patio, paired with the raucous laughter from the group splashing around in the pool, had lulled you into a trance-like state.

You were third-wheeling beside Nancy and Jonathan, because you work with them and they're really the only people that you really know at this party. So you might kind of be clinging to them a bit.

You've let your mind wander in an effort to remain unbothered by their flirty laughter, especially with the way that light intoxication and the chaos in the Harrington backyard has slowly brought the volume of their conversation from hushed to outright loud beside you.

Before you knew it, you've spent a good fifteen minutes sipping steadily on your drink and watching the ants march in and out of a gaping crack in the cement in a mindless daze. So, when you hear the question, your head snaps up so hard it nearly gives you whiplash as you focus on the girl standing in front of you.

You've seen her before, but that does nothing to lessen the blow of just how pretty she is. So pretty. Her cheeks are still a little pink from the setting sun, freckles marking her skin everywhere your eyes land as your gaze rakes over her. A wonderfully short pair of denim cutoffs cover the tops of her thighs, and you have a hard time forcing your gaze to continue to travel upward. She's picking at the label on one of the bottles of beer in her hands, both of them dripping with ice water from the cooler she must've snatched them from. Her eyes are wide, a panicked little grimace pulling at her lips before she seems to shake herself off and school her expression into something more relaxed.

"Hey, Robin." Nancy acknowledges sweetly, Jonathan nodding in greeting beside her.

The pretty girl, Robin, smiles in response, albeit tightly, before her attention moves determinedly back to you. She blinks once, twice. Shifts on the balls of her feet and repositions her beers, the glass clinking as they knock together between cold fingers. Her gaze flicks just once to something or someone over your shoulder and she seems to nod to herself once before an adorably nervous little smile pulls at her lips.

You've only ever seen fleeting glimpses of her from afar as she re-shelves movie rentals at Family Video. You'd tried to catch her at the check out counter one time, but Steve Harrington had crushed your hopes the moment he had nudged his co-worker away with a not-so-hushed whisper about letting him test the waters that had your shoulders slumping dejectedly.

When he'd spotted the empty plastic case in your hands, he'd squared his shoulders, a poor attempt at nonchalence, "Gremlins, huh? Uh.. Gun to your head! Who's hotter — Phoebe Cates or Zach Gilligan?"

You'd laughed before correcting him, "Galligan. Gilligan is the guy on the deserted island."

He'd only waved you off, taking the crumpled dollar bills you pulled from your pocket with an oddly pointed comment about how pretty Phoebe Cates was though, right? You blame the way his eyes had flashed with something like excitement when you'd agreed as the reason for your next comment-

"But all time celebrity crush? Gotta be Claudia Wells." You'd paused after the admission before continuing somewhat nervously, "Y'know, from uh, Back To The Future?"

"Oh! The guy's hot mom?"

"Oh, no. His, um, Marty's girlfriend. I just think she's a little softer than Cates. Pretty but still approachable, y'know? Girl Next Door. That kinda thing."

He hadn't looked judgmental, but the moment you'd left the store and the adrenaline brought on by the absurd encounter had receded, you'd been mortified with yourself for being so goddamn transparent. You'd almost gone back a week later, hoping to see the cute mystery girl working the counter again — alone, preferably — but in the end you'd chickened out. Had a friend return your rental for you and you hadn't been back since.. Because she really was nerve-wrackingly pretty, and you were a coward.

But right now she's looking at you expectantly. Waiting.

"Hi?" You manage, words soft and unsure.

The playing field doesn't quite feel even with her standing above you. It's a bit unfair, you think as you blink up at her a little dumbly — It's hard to focus when her attention is on you like this. The sky is a backdrop of pink and orange behind her, stunning little shadows collecting beneath the bridge of her nose and the ridge of her brow. Perfect teeth dig in at the corner of her lower lip with her smile. There's a pale stripe of skin at the base of her middle finger, untouched by the sun and only visible because the chunky ring she's wearing has gone slightly askew against one of the beer bottles in her hand.

"Hi," Robin returns, just the single syllable sounding giddy on her tongue. Blue eyes drop to where you sit on the stone bench beside Nancy, gaze lingering on the bare skin of your thighs beneath your shorts before they travel back up to meet your own again. "Is this seat taken?" She repeats, a little more hopeful this time.

"Oh." It only comes out a little dejected. You look toward Nancy and Jonathan in your peripherals, as if willing another space on the stone bench to suddenly appear — When one doesn't, you sigh. The nearly empty plastic cup in your hands crunches when you clutch it a little tighter to your chest. Your jaw tightens, heel scuffing against cement as you kick your foot out in preparation to rise and relinquish your seat. "No, I mean.. Yeah, you can have it." You nudge Nancy with your arm, chin to your shoulder as you speak a little softer, "I'm gonna go grab a drink and, um.. Mingle."

The look on Nancy's face immediately gives away the fact that she knows there's no way in hell that you plan to do anything of the sort. You are not a person who mingles, Nancy and Jonathan both know this. However, before Nancy can say anything, Robin is speaking again.

"No!" She nearly yells, voice cracking. Her eyes have gone a little wide. She takes a small step closer, one of her knees knocking against your own and effectively impeding your ability to stand.

"..No?" You echo in confusion.

"Um," Robin swallows harshly, curling in on herself just a little. Her face scrunches with embarrassment, her teeth scraping along her lip. She blows out a harsh breath before thrusting one of the beers in her hands toward you, "Here! I, uh, I brought this over for you."

You bend to place your plastic cup beneath the bench in a flash, entirely too eager when you reach out to take the offering. You get a little distracted by the way her fingers glisten with condensation, and your stomach outright flips when they brush your own in the transfer.

"Oh. Thank you," You feel a bit like a schoolgirl with the airy cadence that slips into your voice. Her touch lingers for a moment, blue eyes seemingly glued to the place where your index finger covers her pinky around the neck of the bottle. "You can totally still have my seat," You add quickly, "I don't mind! Like I said-"

"Actually-" Robin interrupts, "Well, actually, I thought- If you want, of course- I thought we could maybe, kind of, in a way, share the seat?" It comes out as a question and only serves to make you more confused. "I thought – again, if you want – I thought I could, possibly, sit.. on your lap. Just, because.. You know, that way you could avoid forfeiting your seat and maybe, you and I, we could get to know each other a little better? But we totally don't have to! That's okay too! Absolutely okay, in fact. You can just enjoy that beer and I'll go-"

She's already shuffling a small step back as her words bleed together in her anxious rambling. Your free hand catches her wrist to pull her back before she can get too far, your legs parting to allow her to slip between them. Her knees brush the insides of your thighs and your heart thumps entirely too obnoxiously beneath your ribs in response.

"I don't mind," You say quickly. Your fingers shake with the adrenaline that washes over you suddenly and you give a gentle tug to urge her to sit. "You can sit. You can absolutely sit."

She sits.

She sits and pockets of her denim shorts press into the top of your thigh, her knees knocking together as she tries to settle into a comfortable position. You surprise even yourself with the hand that lands on the small of her back to keep her balanced, and when she presses into your touch minutely you choose to leave it there. Your palm is without a doubt sweating where it settles against the cotton of her shirt, but you don't dare move it now that it's found a place there.

If you thought it was hard to breathe when she was standing in front of you, it's a whole new ballgame to have her face this close to your own. You're still looking up at her, neck craned back just a little to look at the cluster of freckles above her cupid's bow, the dark eyeliner smudged artfully beneath her lashes.

You watch her gaze drag slow over your own face — like you're something to be admired and, God.

You can practically hear your own blood pumping in your ears, and you will your excited nerves to settle, sipping from the chilled beverage in your hand just for something to distract you, even just for a moment. The glass catches the top of Robin's bare thigh when you lower it again and she gasps at the cold, the gasp turning over into a breathless laugh while you curse and stutter out an apology.

You miss the way her gaze flicks over your shoulder to meet Steve's watchful eye where he sends her a whole flurry of excited hand movements ending with an emphatic thumbs up. But, you do notice the way her toe nudges into your shin lightly, the shy smile pulling at her lips as she leans into you a little more comfortably, arm pressing into your shoulder.

"Hi," She starts slowly, "I'm Robin."

lovely dividers by @strangergraphics

#robin buckley #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley fic #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x reader fluff #robin x reader #robin buckley fanfic #*

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spookysteddie · 11 months ago

Text

Always Comin’ Home to You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ MINOR DNI

dec: after a fight with his step-mother Gator comes home late, scaring you. His bruises tell you of the day he had and all he wants is to feel you.

cw: Swearing, abandonment, mental / physical abuse (Roy to Gator), domestic abuse (Roy to Karen), bruises, mention of death, implication of anxiety, murder, toxic religion themes, gator calls his step-mom a cunt, crying, fingering, daddy kink, dd/lg themes if you squint, Gator calls himself her God (what's the name for that?), unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, promises. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.7k

a/n: I need Gator Tillman like I need to fucking breathe. This man is WOW. I just want to pet him and tell him he is, in fact, a winner and then suck him off. Anyway, I hope y'all like this heheh

...

Gator Tillman didn’t have a lot of good things in his life.

Between his mother leaving, his father being as asshole and everything in between, Gator was a little fucked up and very morally gray. Doing his daddy's dirty work in the hopes Roy will finally be proud of him.

Now, there was one good thing (or person) in his life, one human who brought out the best in him. One person who saw him for the person he was deep inside. The one who saw him as a winner.

You.

You were everything Gator could ever dream of, his perfect girl.

“Gator? Baby have you seen my sunglasses?” You pull some clothes out of the hamper, double (triple) checking that they weren’t in there. “Do you have them? Are they in your cruiser?!”

You hear Gators heavy footsteps before he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, “have ya checked on top of ya head?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and instantly you want to punch him.

You were an angel and subsequently the sweetest girl. Shit, you make Gator catch and release the spiders you find in the house because you ‘want someone to grant you the same kindness in life’. Whatever that means. But of course he does it, because the last thing he wants is to make you cry.

Well, that’s not true. He loves making you cry while your wrapped around his cock, fucking you so deep and hard that you can’t form a complete thought. Only then does he enjoy the tears streaming down your face.

But at the same time, you had a wicked attitude. One he liked to fuck outta you at every opportunity. And when you look up at him he knows it’s coming.

“Do they look like they’re on my fuckin’ head, Gator? Jesus Christ.” But he doesn't fail to notice you subtly check in the mirror to make sure they aren’t actually on your head. They aren’t, for the record.

Gator is not like his daddy. Does he have his fathers attitude? Absolutely. But he has never raised his hand to you outside of the bedroom, much to his fathers dislike. Claiming he’s watched his father beat on his step-mother and even though he hates her – only because she gave birth to his twin sisters, giving his father two more chances to fuck their futures up – he doesn’t think it’s right.

He balls his fists, nails digging into the center of his hand. He has too much shit to do today and, frankly, doesn’t have time for this shit. “Watch ya mouth bunny. Lucky my dad aint home to hear you take Christs name in vain.”

Gator is right. His daddy already doesn't like you, doesn’t think you’re Godly enough. He also seems to think you’re an idiot simply because Gator does everything for you, even down to tying your shoes. It’s something Gator likes doing, taking care of you as it helps ease his mind.

But at the same time Roy wonders how his son could catch and keep a girl like you. It’s emotional whiplash most of the time. Of course, Gator takes the brunt of his daddy's issues when it comes to you, never letting his daddy so much as look wrong in your direction.

You sigh, running your hands down your pink skirt, “look, can you please help me find them? You know my eyes don’t do well with the sun bouncing off the snow.”

His eyes soften, loving when you need his help, “I’m willin’ to bet they’re in the cruiser on the floor boards.”

Your face heats as you remember exactly why they’d be on the floor of the cruiser, your escapades from your little meeting at the police station last night. There was always that preliminary fuck before going back to Roys (cause God forbid Gator ever come stay at your place. His daddy needs him nice and close.) considering you don’t know how to keep your moans quiet. So, he tires you out, not so much that you can’t drive back to his place, but just enough to where you’re silent during round two and three and four.

The cold nips at your bare legs, winter just as brutal as every other year in this godforsaken state. You swear it never gets easier, winter, and the older you get the more you think about moving south. You think Gator would like the warmer weather, probably find the warmth soothing.

“Ah ha! Got ‘em!” Gator hands them to you with a huge smile on his face. He looks almost boy-like. It’s rare he has a genuine smile, especially when his daddy is around.

“Gator,” his step-mothers voice rings out from the porch, making you both jump. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his frustration. “Stop yellin’ cause your sisters are sleepin’!”

“Karen, they’re at the other end of this fuckin house and your scratchy ass voice is louder than me.”

You can see her huff, “I should call your father!”

He sighs, turning on his heel, “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. Dad’s… a little busy today.” Gator knows exactly what his daddy is busy with, not that he’d ever tell you. Terrified that he would somehow put you in danger.

You know that there was shit his daddy made him do. Things that forced him to come home with black eyes, bloody lips and bruises on his knuckles and body. It hurt your heart every time he came home like that, telling you it was nothing while he winces as he takes off his clothes.

Karen seethes from the porch and you see her look from Gator to you and back. Gator, who notices everything, sees it and steps in front of you, pushing you behind him. “Don’t look at her like that, Karen.”

That seems to annoy her more, “she better not be here tonight. You hear me? Don’t need your sisters hearin the stuff you two get up to at night.”

“Not any worse than dads hands hittin’ your face while they sit at the kitchen table.” You cringe at his statement, seeing Roy hit Karen more times than you can count. “You don’t run this house. Or tell me what to do.” He spits on the ground and turns away, waiting till he hears the door slam to speak.

“I fuckin hate her. She’s sucha little bitch.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, breathing him in. “Can stay at mine tonight if you want. Don’t wanna get you in trouble,” you murmur into his shirt. “O-or we can spend a night apart. I know we haven’t done that inna while but just till this blows over an’ we know she didn’t say nothin’ to your father.”

You know you're rambling, but all you want is to make Gators life comfortable and safe. You know there is a small chance that Karen will call Roy, tell him what happened, maybe even lie (she’s done that before) and say you upset her. If that happens, Gator will get it good, possibly another broken arm or dislocated jaw. That’s the last thing you want. You can feel you chest ache, eyes burning at the idea of Roy hurtin’ him.

Gator pulls your face back from his chest, making you look up at him, “don’t you be worryin’ bout me now. Roy ain’t gonna do shit and I don’t sleep when you aren’t curled up next to me,” he kisses your forehead. “I’ll put some feelers out to see if that little bitch called him. Gotta meeting at 3 with him.”

You nod, your hand coming up to fix his jacket. In reality, you just need something to distract from the burning behind your eyes.

“Hey? I’m serious. I’ll be fine, okay?” He lets you go to reach into his pocket, pulling out some cash and handing it to you, “why don’t you go get your nails done or something, yeah?”

You know refusing to take the money wont go well, so you take it, putting it in the pocket of your jacket. “Thank you, daddy,” you whisper out, knowing you aren’t really supposed to say that outside of Gators locked bedroom door.

He lets it slide, the day has been stressful enough for you. “That’s my good bunny. Now, run along and I’ll meet you here at six okay?”

You tilt your head, “no station tonight?”

“Nah… Jerry is working and he’s got a starin’ problem when it comes to ya. Don’t feel like scoopin’ eyeballs out. Too messy.”

You shudder but kiss him goodbye before getting in your car. You have a very bad feeling his 3pm meeting isn’t going to go how he expects.

…

You were right.

You knew you were right the second you pulled up to his house at six on the dot and he wasn’t home. You reach for your phone, looking to see if maybe you’d missed a text, phone call, shit even an email from your boyfriend.

Nothing.

Even when you try to call him, you're met with a voicemail. You can feel the bile rise in the back of your throat, fear making your skin itch. Was this it? Was this the time Roy sends him out there to do his dirty work and he doesn’t make it home?

He could be anywhere right now. Not only that, if he was dead, no one would do shit for him. No funeral, no service, nothing. His dad would go on and wipe his hands clean of his “loser” son, probably more than happy that the ties of his first wife are gone for good.

Oh God, what if he was dying, the cold freezing the blood onto his skin, frostbite settling in. He could be so scared, praying to the God he doesn’t believe in that you come find him. His clothes are probably wet too, sticking to him thanks to the sn-

A knock on your window makes you jump, a yelp falling from your lips. You look over, seeing the blue of his jacket in your peripheral and the sight makes you gasp. You’re quick to shut off the car, jumping out and getting a closer look at him.

He looks… awful. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, dry blood sticking to his split brow. There is a bruise on the other side of his face and under his left eyes, clearly he got hit in the nose.

“Baby…” this time you can't stop the tears from falling. “Baby what happened?”

He lets out a long, deep sigh, his hands resting on your cheeks. “Fuckin’ cunt called dad. Said I needed a lesson in respect. S’how I got the bruise on my left eye.” He wipes the tear that falls from your eye, his touch soft and kind, “sent me to do some shit across state lines. Guy beat the fuck outta me. He ain’t alive no more though.”

You sniffle, “is it just your face?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say more. He knows you’ll see the rest once he gets you inside. Well … “we-I can’t let you sleep here tonight, Gator.”

He shakes his head, “it’s fine. Dad said so himself. Come on.”

And so he drags you inside, Karen looking like the cat that caught the canary as she watches you help Gator walk. You make a mental note to never forget this, never forget how she treats her step-son.

You push open Gators bedroom door, making sure to shut it silently and lock it before settling Gator on the bed. “Let’s get ya into some comfy clothes, yeah?”

You crouch down in front of him, making quick work of untying his boots.

“Baby, I can do this. I’m the one who's supposed to help you.”

That only makes more tears burn your eyes. You hated that he never let anyone help him, hated that he always had to be strong, couldn’t ever cry, nothing. You hated Roy for making him like this and you hated his mother for leaving and not saving her only son from a life of pain.

“Stop. Just-just let me help you, Gator please.” You pull at the laces to loosen them and make it easier to slide off his boot, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes.

His boot comes off easy and you make sure you keep your hold on it so it doesn’t make any noise on the floor. Same with the second one.

You stand, unclipping his thigh holster and setting it on the nightstand where he likes it. Incase of emergencies. Next is his belt, coming off with ease. He stops you when you get to his pants, making you look up at him. He hates the silver shining along your waterline.

“I love you, little bunny.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it.

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks as you say.

You work on his pants, popping open the buttons with ease. Next you pull his shirt out of his pants and pull it over his head. By the time his shirt hits the floor, you’ve gotten a full look at his bare torso. A bruise is forming along his ribs, it’s really red and slightly turning purple.

“Jeez baby,” your hands gently touch his skin and he hisses a little. “S-sorry.”

He says nothing as he helps you pull off his pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

“Stay here,” you tell him as you collect his dirty clothes and go into his attached bathroom. You sigh as you grab a face cloth, turning the water on so it heats up. It, of course, takes forever for the water to warm. Nothing like shit water heating thanks to the frigid winter. But once it does you wet the cloth and grab the first aid kit and go back to him.

You’ve done this before, cleaned him up, you’ve even stitched him up. You’d like to thank the internet for telling you how to do that and you’ve gotten good over the last two years.

“S’is gonna hurt. Luckily it looks like you don’t need stitches. Just don’t move while I work okay?”

He nods, “yes, baby. Ya don’t have to do this. I know you don’t like blood.” This was true, you didn’t like blood at all, barely even being able to handle papercuts. But for some reason, when it comes to him, you can manage to push it aside. Cuts can get infected and when they’re on his face it means it could go to the brain faster.

You carefully dab the wet rag around his split eyebrow, gently clearing off the blood and making sure that you don’t resplit the cut open. “I think it split from the swellin’ but I don’t think it needs stitches.”

He nods slightly, “good. I was hoping it’d close on its own.”

You put some wound cleaner on it before you bandage it. He might have a scar there unless he leaves it alone. But knowing Gator, it’ll open again. You clean up around his face and causing a hiss to leave his lips once you touch his cheek and eye. You apologize, applying some cream that makes bruises heal faster to his face and ribs.

“That’s everything.” You force a small smile at him, tossing the wet cloth into the hamper and putting the first aid kit away. You get undressed, needing skin to skin contact. Then, you climb into bed, snuggling up to him, resting your head on the safe side of his chest.

The silence stretches, Gators arm around your shoulders, his thumb moving softly.

“I thought you were dead in the snow,” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them.

He thumb stills for a heartbeat before resuming, “but m’not.”

“I’m sorry this is the life you were forced into. It is not fair.”

He kisses your head, breathing you in for a moment, “it’s not your fault, bunny. You didn’t do any of this. Shoulda kept my mouth shut when it came to Karen. Just… smile an’ wave.”

You shake your head, kissing his chest, “not how it’s supposed to be.”

Gator rolls over you, forcing you on your back. He bites back a pained groan. “My sweet bunny, listen to me. I am here. I am safe. S’gonna take a lot more to kill me.” He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You let your hands slide into his hair, deepening the kiss. Honestly, you just need to feel him. He knows it and if he’s being honest, he needs to feel you too. He’ll never say it out loud, but as he laid in the snow, doing his best to get the fucker he was sent to kill off of him, he was scared.

Scared he would die and you’d spend the rest of you life wondering. He knew no one would fill you in and he knew his daddy wouldn’t have a service for him. You’d be alone, wondering what happened to him, praying to the god you don’t believe in that he’d come home again. So, he fought like hell and now, he really needs you. Needs to be inside you.

You pull back, breaking the kiss, “Gator, we can’t.”

“We can. Please baby.” Gator doesn’t beg, he didn’t need to when it came to you. Always more than willing to do what he says and give him what he wants. His begging makes you give in.

His hands push your underwear aside, feeling how ready you already are for him. Always ready, always wanting and only for him.

You pull him in for a kiss while his fingers find your clit with ease, swallowing your moans. He always knows exactly how you like it, fingers moving in swift circles and just the right amount of pressure.

“So fucking pretty when you’re at my mercy,” he pushes two fingers inside you, the stretch making your brain go fuzzy. “Looked so fucking pretty in your little skirt and frilly socks. My little angel.”

The way Gator is cooing at you, his fingers crooked up to touch the one spot that drives you nuts and you can feel yourself slipping into that headspace you both love. You’re trying so hard to be logical, knowing he’s hurt and can hurt himself further.

“Thank you, daddy. Bought it because I thought you’d like it.” Your voice is getting small, breathy.

He grins, kissing down your neck, “I love it. Love everything you wear. Look so pretty in your pastels.” His thumb finds your clit, a soft moan falling from your lips. It’s embarrasing how quickly you are to coming around his fingers.

“P-please. Gator please.”

He smirks, “use your words, sweet girl. Tell me what you want.”

You can feel your body heat up from both the coil inside you winding tighter and the embarrassment of having to say what you want. “I-I need to cum. So bad.”

The second the words are in the air, Gator pulls his hands away, leaving your orgasm to fade away. “NO! No, no, no, no please!”

He sucks a mark into your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to sooth it.

“Need ya to cum on my cock, baby.”

Before your brain can catch up, he’s sliding inside you. The stretch is something you haven't gotten used to in the last two years. It feels like he's splitting you in half, his cock filling you completely.

“OH! Oh my god.” You're already panting, squeezing him so hard he’s fighting to not bust prematurely.

Gator drops to his forearms and pumps his hips, getting right in your face. He’s so close you can smell the fruity scent from the vape he was no doubt huffing on before coming to see you.

“S’right baby, I am your God and I love when ya pray to me.”

You can’t help the way your cunt clenches, a moan falling from your lips that is just slightly too loud for either of your comforts. At the moment, you don’t care. You know Roy already got his fill of kicking Gatos' ass. He’s not going to worry about it tonight.

“Daddy, please. I’m so close.”

His hips are snapping hard, cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. He feels like he’s inside your throat and you can’t tell if his grunts are from pain, pleasure, or both.

“Not yet. Almost there. D-don’t cum yet.”

Your nails sink into his biceps, hips starting to stutter.

“Please! Fuck! Oh god…”

He smirks, eyes meeting yours, “yeah? I know how bad ya need it. How bad ya need me to fill this pretty, little cunt up. Breed an own ya f’ever? Hm?” His eyes are black and he looks absolutely feral. Primal.

His hand snakes down the front of your body, finding your clit with ease. You gasp, thighs starting to shake. You knew you weren’t going to last but you needed his permission. You craved his praise and being in his good graces. You’d let him do anything to you, that’s how much you trust him.

“Yes! Yes! Whatever you want. Anything.” You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, too cock drunk to think of anything besides him and what he’s doing to you.

He laughs, seeing your eyes glazed over and tears of pleasure lining your eyes, “cum for me bunny. Do it.”

It’s all you need to fall into bliss.

His hand covers your mouth knowing how loud you’re about to be. His face drops into your neck as he cums with you, both of your moans muffled by each other's bodies. His cum fills you, leaking out as he brings you both down.

His hand slowly leaves your mouth, head lifting to look at you.

“I love you. I fuckin’ love you so fuckin’ much.” He leaves little kisses all over your face, trying to bring you back to him. “You hear me? M’never leavin’ you.”

You take a shuddering inhale, trying to form a coherent thought, “P-promise?”

You hold your pinky up to him, hands shaking while adrenalin continues to run through your veins. He giggles, hooking his pinky with yours, “promise. I’ll always come home to you. I will always fall asleep next to you.”

He looks down, flipping your hand over and checking out your nails, “I can’t wait for these pretty, red claws to be wrapped around my cock.”

Your chest lightens as you both laugh together.

#gator tillman fargo #Gator Tillman #fargo season 5 #fargo fanfic #Gator Tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fic #gator tillman imagine #gator tillman x y/n #joe keery #joe keery fargo

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years ago

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Dress Code | Bucky Barnes x Reader

We're back again with "reader's ex was a piece of shit"! One of my favorite genres! (What, no! these terrible ex stories aren't all based on my life...😅)

Warnings: reader’s asshole ex boyfriend, insecurity, manipulation, use of the word "slut" and “whore”, Bucky lusting over reader, drunk reader

You didn’t hear Bucky call out for you. He tried once, twice, to get your attention, but failed. Only when he appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror did you notice his presence. You jumped, silently cursing the winter soldier training that made him so stealthy. And while you loved being close to him, you hadn’t intended to show him your outfit. You didn’t even know why you tried it on. It sat at the back of your closet for almost a year and a half, ignored.

But Bucky’s unannounced presence put you in a difficult position. It was too late- he’d seen the dress never meant for his view.

“Oh, wow…” his voice pulled you back to reality. A long moment passed as he raked his gaze slowly over your form in the mirror. “You look incredible.” His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in such an out of character ensemble. Black, tight, revealing. It gave away just enough without revealing everything, teasing Bucky with what remained concealed.

You gave him a sheepish smile in the mirror, not ready to face him for real. “Oh, um, thanks, babe… you like it?”

He gave a nod so vehement that you feared he’d get whiplash. “We might not even make it to the party…” He shot you a devilish wink that made your chest tighten. “I’ll tell Nat you looked too delicious for me to share you- I’m sure she’ll understand.”

A shy laugh made its way out of your mouth as you picked at your cuticles. You’d done your nails just for tonight, but suddenly had the urge to peel the polish right off. “Um, I actually might change, though- I’m not sure. But I swear I’ll be ready soon.”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and gently turned you toward him, placing a light kiss to your glossed lips. “No rush, doll. I just came in here to ask- what kind of wine does Nat drink? Sam wants to get her a bottle, but he wasn’t sure what she likes.” His fingers trailed up and down your sides as a mischievous smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. “I just got distracted by the absolute goddess standing in front of me…”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. “She um, she likes reds. Cab is her favorite, but she’ll drink merlot.”

He granted you another chaste kiss. Bucky had experienced a lot of hardship in his life, endured more torment than anyone could imagine. But keeping his hunger for you under control proved to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And when he pulled away from your lips, he only managed to drag his eyes away from you long enough to reply to Sam’s text.

As Bucky typed, you faced the mirror once again. You had to admit- you did look amazing. But you still feared leaving the apartment in such an outfit. Maybe you’d keep it relegated to the bedroom, allowing Bucky- and only Bucky - to see it.

“Are you sure…” you said, your voice soft. “Is it okay if I wear this?”

Bucky gave you a laugh and rested his hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, cause I mostly wear black on black. On black,” he gestured to his monochromatic outfit. “But you look amazing. So, I say go for it, doll.”

Bucky’s praise warmed your cheeks once again, but you remained conflicted. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! You know how causal Nat is- the last place you’d find a dress code is at one of her parties.” He pressed his chest to your back and dropped a few kisses along your neck. “In fact, she might even try to steal you away from me.”

You gave Bucky a roll of your eyes and contemplated your options. Sure, you could slip into a pair of jeans and a cute top like always, but something in you wanted to pull out a new look. Something fun. And this dress was the perfect choice. Bucky clearly thought you looked like a knockout, and you loved the way the fabric hugged your body. No event was more perfect for this dress than one of Nat’s parties- it was meant to be.

“Well, in that case, I’m ready to go.” You took Bucky by the hand and led him out of the bathroom, more confident than ever. But the seed of doubt you’d planted earlier began blossoming into full on worry. And before you even made it out the bedroom door, you found yourself doubling back.

“Oh, actually- I’m gonna grab a jacket real quick.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “are you sure? It’s pretty warm tonight, sweets, and this is an outdoor shindig.”

You gave an overly casual shrug, “yeah. Just in case- never know when you’ll need it.”

The night went off without a hitch. You spent hours sipping on elderflower & pear seltzers and laughing with your closest friends. Compliment after compliment flew your way- everyone loved your look. Red wine flowed and music pounded. And like a gaggle of schoolchildren, the party quickly separated into a group of guys and a group of women. You spent your evening with Nat, Maria, Wanda, and the rest of the girls while Sam, Clint, Scott and a few other guys stood near the bar.

But Bucky blurred the line. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, couldn’t resist you in the slightest. Every twenty minutes or so, he felt compelled to pay you a visit. He was drawn to you with no hope of resisting- not that he ever wanted to.

Observing you from afar just wasn’t good enough. He needed to be up close and personal; close enough to smell your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips. He never wanted to impede on your time with Nat and the other girls, but you were just too mesmerizing. It almost seemed as though he were a sailor, and you, his siren. And if you led him to his death with your magnetic song, he wouldn’t mind.

And though you appeared to have a great time, Bucky clocked a slight tension. A stiffness in your shoulders. A rigidity in your jaw. It wasn’t constant. But it was there. And Bucky wondered what had you so uncomfortable. He kept an eye out for creepy guys and made sure your drinks were safe- but nothing felt out of the ordinary.

And as he escorted you to his car after the night’s festivities came to an end, you didn’t bring it up. You didn’t mention an off-putting stranger or an off-color comment from Sharon. Only positives spilled from your wine-stained lips.

When you finally arrived home, Bucky opened the door to the apartment and guided you inside. The alcohol was on top of you, and he didn’t fully trust your teetering steps. The last thing he wanted was for you to twist your ankle.

“I’m ready to not be walking on knives…” you said- or, slurred. You rocked side to side, the effects of the alcohol pushing you off balance as you tried to escape your heels.

“Here, let me, baby …” Bucky steadied your body against a wall before kneeling in front of you.

He carefully unbuckled one heel at a time, and slipped each foot out of the tight shoes. “This is like a reverse-Cinderella situation, isn’t it?” He laughed, staring up at your slack-jawed smile, “only I wouldn’t have to try your shoe on every woman in town.” He stood and swiped a bit of smeared lipstick from your skin- before smearing a bit more with his own lips. “I mean, who could forget a face like this?”

A contented sigh left your chest as you melted against him, “I’m really glad we went tonight. I like celebrating Nat.”

Bucky trailed kisses around your hairline and across your cheek. “Yeah? Good. I was afraid…” he almost stopped himself. You were drunk. Sleepy. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. But if he waited till tomorrow, he knew there was a chance you’d come up with an excuse by then. “I thought maybe you weren’t having a good time.”

You cocked your head to the side, your glassy eyes narrowing just a touch. “Huh? Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, you seemed a little tense, doll. All night. I kind of thought maybe you were upset or something. It seemed like…” He let out a sigh. Maybe he was projecting. He always assumed he’d done something wrong. Or that he hadn’t done something you wanted him to. All he ever wanted was to be better- the best- for you. He wanted constructive criticism and performance reviews. He needed to be as perfect for you as you were for him. And so, he pressed on, “Every time I walked over, you kinda stiffened up.”

A frown pulled your features downward. Your hands shot up to Bucky’s cheeks and pulled his face toward yours. “Oh, Buck, oh no- I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I just wanted to double check.”

“I only thought you might do something- or, actually…” You paused for a moment, formulating your drunk, murky thoughts. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

Bucky wasn’t following. He was certain that this was a mistake, that he should’ve waited till morning to bring it up. But it was too late now.

“I just kinda got used to it and so I expected it to happen. But you didn’t do it!” You gave his cheeks a gentle squish. “So it’s all good. You’re the sweetest.” With that, your lips swept against his in a soft kiss, smearing his skin with your lipstick.

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “I didn’t do what, baby?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “call me slut.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing. There was no way her heard you right- was there? Maybe he was drunk- no, he couldn’t get drunk. Maybe he imagined it? “Wait, what? Why would I call you a…” he didn’t want to say it. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of my outfit!” You said it so casually, so matter of fact. Almost as though it were normal. “It’s pretty tight. And revealing. And my titties are almost, like, all the way out.” You gave your chest a shake. “So I thought you’d get mad at me. But you didn’t!” You pressed another long kiss to his lips, “thanks for not yelling.” A soft, tired smile punctuated your sentence. But Bucky knew this was a red flag.

He knew instantly this was a holdover from your ex. The one who belittled you, criticized you, acted as though you belonged to him. He made you feel like you were his property, like he was in control of your entire life. What you wore, what you ate, what you watched- he decided.

He was insecure. He knew how beautiful you were, how out of his league. And so, he opted to tear you down. To blame you for his own self-doubt. To chastise and berate you for showing what he deemed ‘too much’ skin or wearing ‘too much’ make up. He always asked who you were dressing up for, who you were trying to impress. If not him, who else was there? What other reason did you have to get dolled up?

He even went through your closet once while you were away, ridding your wardrobe of anything he deemed ‘inappropriate’. He threw it all out and called you a slut, a whore- simply for owning such clothing.

He required you get his permission to wear anything short or low cut. He assumed you wanted to sleep with- or already slept with- any man you talked to. Coworkers, friends, the barista at your coffee place. He saw everything you did in public as flirtatious and risqué. He said he couldn’t trust you. That your friends were a bad influence. He did everything he could to pull your life apart until only he remained.

“Okay, we’re gonna talk about this more when you’re sober,” Bucky said, “But I’m never going to yell at you- especially not for something as inconsequential as an outftit.”

“You can yell at me,” you sighed. It was the sound of someone dejected, resigned- someone forced into submission. “Sometimes I don’t learn my lesson, and so I need to be yelled at. Ya know?” Your sad smile made another appearance.

Bucky shook his head. He was disgusted with your ex. With men in general, really. “No, that’s just something he told you, doll. You don’t ‘need’ to be yelled at. I’m your boyfriend- not your parent, not your boss. I’m not going to yell at you- ever.”

You perked up suddenly. “Really? I like that, I like not being yelled at. You’re the best.”

“That’s…” Bucky sighed. “That’s a low bar.”

You simply gave him a shrug- for you, the bar was in hell.

Bucky left a kiss against your forehead. “You’re a fully grown adult; you’re allowed to wear whatever you want- you know that, right? You’re-” He took a pause and the quickly rephrased, “This is not me giving you permission. You don’t need my permission. I’m just saying, it’s your body. They’re your clothes. You should wear what makes you happy, not what you think I’ll ‘allow’”.

You stared up at him, struggling to make sense of such a foreign concept. “Are you sure? Cause… what if, what if I wanna wear something like, really slutty?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “That’s not something I’ll ever I be opposed to.”

“But what if-”

“Baby, no ‘what ifs’. No ‘buts’. You should wear whatever you want, whether it’s a parka and snow pants or fishnets and those... those-” he made groping motions at his chest and searched for the word but came up empty. “what are they called? The sticky boob things?”

“Chicken cutlets!” you laughed.

“Yeah! Chicken cutlets!” he said. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your body is yours. And if you want to wear nothing but chicken cutlets, that’s your choice.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, weighing the truth of his words. The way you’d been treated was dehumanizing. Demoralizing. Asking permission for something as simple as clothing always made you feel stupid. Small. Ashamed. And though hearing Bucky say these things brought you comfort, the apprehension in your chest remained.

“I just don’t wanna…” It felt stupid saying what you feared. You felt like a child. “I just don’t wanna get in trouble.” The admission came with a heavy sigh and few unexpected tears. You lived on a leash for so long it made freedom sound scary.

Bucky pulled you close and showed you the love you needed. He let you breathe. Unlearning the things your ex ingrained in you would take time, this Bucky knew. But he was more than happy to help you on the journey.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble. You can’t get in trouble- not with me.” He pulled your face from his chest and rested his palms against your cheeks, “I’m not in charge of you.”

Meeting his eyeline was hard; shame still had its hooks in you. “But what if I wear something really revealing and other guys hit on me?”

Bucky tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head ever so slightly. When your eyes finally met his, you found an almost amused smile on his face. “Doll, I know how to fight,” he said with a wink. “It’s my job. Wear whatever you want. And if someone tries to make you uncomfortable, they’ll have me to answer to. Okay?”

This time, your smile was genuine. “Okay,” you laughed, “thanks, Buck. You the best.” You melted against his body with a sigh and barely noticed that he’d swept you up into his arms. No one ever cared for you the way he did. When you’d first met, part of you thought it was a front. Maybe he was trying to right the wrongs of his past by overcorrecting.

But it was real- all of it. His adoration for you, his devotion to you; everything he said was genuine. And as he carried you to bed and helped you get into some pajamas, you knew you’d never have to walk on eggshells with him. He’d never make you ask for permission or beg for forgiveness. He only wanted you to be happy. And if you wanted to wear a different, outrageous, barely-there outfit every day of the week, he’d happily fight off any man who dared comment.

——————————-

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sammysficfactory · 1 year ago

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JJK men’s reaction to you calling them a whore/slut

characters: nanami, gojo, geto, and toji

notes: if you want me to go more in depth for a character lmk!

Nanami Kento

oh em gee

he is SHOCKED

have you no shame? no decorum?

“You look like a whore when you wear your suit without a blazer.” you deadpanned.

“Excuse me?” Nanami is thoroughly confused, hoping he didn’t hear you correctly. But he did. And who could blame you?

“You heard what I said.” You shrug.

he would never admit it, but he liked it

the way you said it so outright threw him for a LOOP honey

if he were a rich woman he’d be clutching his pearls

“Don’t say it like that. Just say you think it’s nice and move on like normal people do.” Nanami rolls his eyes at you. If you looked close enough you could see a light pink dusting the tips of his ears.

you laugh at him for being flustered

but you’re a good person so you suppress it a little bit

as you call him a whore more often he gets used to it

don’t get me wrong, it still flusters the hell out of him

but he’s accepted it as part of your relationship dynamic

Satoru Gojo

i can’t even lie to you

gojo would like it

“You look like a slut in that outfit.” You say in a nonchalant fashion. Gojo smirks.

“Do I look like a slut? Or do you see something you like.” he leans forward to you, the proximity of your faces distressingly close.

if you thought his ego was big then

i can promise you it’s 10x bigger now

“You want me so bad.” Gojo laughs smugly. You scoff.

“You wish.”

the truth is you DID want him

he was in that black tee and wearing sweats😩

I CANT BLAME YOU

despite the two of you being in a relationship gojo loved to tease you like you were still single

gojo probably bites his finger every time he thinks about the first time you called him a slut

every few weeks he texts you ‘remember that time you wanted me so bad that you said i looked like a slut? i do🤭’

he be swinging his feet back and forth as he types it out

Geto Suguru

if he’s nothing else, he’s definitely gojo’s friend

he’s a good sport about it

“You look like a whore when your hair is in a bun.” Geto does a double take.

“I- what?” He’s confused. One moment you were sitting in a peaceful silence with your boyfriend, and the next you’re calling him a slut?

very confused about the train of thought you took to get to that conclusion

but after a few times he gets used to it

and his replies are definitely something

“You look like a slut in those glasses.” you say flatly. Geto sighs,

“Come slut me out then.” he says, leaning back and spreading his legs slightly on the couch.

when you hear him say it for the first time you almost caught whiplash

you for the first time in the entirety of your relationship, were at a loss for words

it was BAD

you opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish bc you couldn’t find anything to say

you in fact do slut him out once you gather yourself

he’s smug asf for the next week

Toji Fushiguro

he’s shocked too

but his reaction was a lot different

“Toji, you look really slutty in that outfit.” You eye him up and down.

“Bitch?” he quickly apologizes for his knee-jerk reaction.

“Watch that bitch word, Toji! Deadass.” You narrow your eyes at him. He already knew how you felt about that word.

he saw his life flash before his eyes when he said ‘bitch’

he’s super smug too

he isn’t as bad as gojo or geto though

it becomes a running inside joke between the two of you

toji would do shit like send photos of his outfit and say ‘feeling extra slutty today’

and it might make you chuckle a little when he sends them

“You’re not going to the market with me looking like a whore Toji, go change.” you joked.

“Wow, are you slut shaming me right now? I thought you were a feminist.” He accuses you in fake shock.

“I’m getting women’s lick back.” you justify yourself.

does it sound kinda weird to other people? yes

but did you care is the real question

the answer is no

598 notes · View notes

ughgoaway · 1 year ago

Text

secret santa // day 1

content warnings; swearing, mention of boners, drinking?, pining and stressed matty lol

a/n; day 1 wooooo!!! For some reason, this is my longest fic i have for the 12 days, so we are starting with a bang, i guess?? I'm not totally sure how I feel about this fic... but tbh I never like anything I post, so that's not really new lol

word count; 4.2k

(this fic takes place pre-relationship)

12 days masterlist

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

“Daddy!” is the first thing Matty hears when his daughter comes bounding into the house after school that day. Adam follows behind her with an exasperated look on his face, and her bright pink unicorn backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hi mate, Annie has some very exciting news that she just can not stop talking about,” he says, stressing the fact that she just will not stop talking. Matty gives his friend an understanding nod as he takes his daughter's bag.

“Ah wow, how exciting! I can't wait to hear all about it,” Annie opens her mouth to talk, but Maty quickly cuts in before she can start, “After Uncle Adam leaves, okay? Say, thank you for picking me up to Uncle Adam!”

Annie comes bounding up to Adam and hugs his legs. He can't help the smile that breaks out on his face. “Thank you, Uncle Adam!!” Annie says, looking up at him with that cheeky face he loves so much. Adam pats her head and waves to Matty before swiftly leaving to hang out with his much more peaceful son.

Matty manages to corral his daughter to sit at the kitchen table to share her very thrilling news, Annie is practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. Despite her palpable eagerness, Annie waited until Matty had sat down and given her a nod to start talking, something they had been working on.

As soon as she got the nod, words started vomiting out of Annie's mouth at a speed most people wouldn't be able to decipher. But if anyone was an expert on little Annie Healy, it was her dad.

“I get to do the Secret Santa!!” Annie eventually says, grinning so wide that Matty isn't sure her cheeks won't split. He pauses for a second, trying to process his daughter's words. How does she even know what secret Santa is?

“Oh wow, darling!” he says, fieigning happiness for his daughter, but his face tells another story, “That's great, sweetheart, but what does that mean exactly? Secret Santa with your friends? I thought we already got them presents?” Matty distinctly remembers about 2 hours in the Tesco toy aisle choosing out the perfect toy for each of her friends.

“Not for my friends silly,” Annie says sighing, as if her father's obliviousness was just so ridiculous, “for Miss y/n!!!” she smacks her hands on the table with a flourish, acting like this was an obvious piece of information.

Well, it certainly piqued Matty's interest. As did anything that involved your name, really. He remembers last month when someone got hired at Dirty Hit with the same name as you. Matty nearly got whiplash with how fast he turned when he first heard someone say “Y/n is here to see you!” The disappointment on his face must have scared the poor intern half to death. He quickly fixed his expression and was polite, but he felt his pulse racing under his skin.

“Ooh wow, munchkin, that's awesome! Did they give you a note or anything for me to have a look at?” Matty asks. He's sure they wouldn't trust a 6-year-old to relay this information.

Annie perked up at his words, “Oh yeah!” She says, jumping off her chair and scurrying over to her backpack. She unzips her bag and starts furiously pulling out different objects. Matty isn't sure how it all fits in. It's like Mary Poppins bag. She pulls out 5 books, 2 jumpers, 6 pieces of mystery paper, 2 toys (that she is not allowed to bring to school) and one of mayhems toys before she shrieks out an “Aha!” and in her hand is a crumpled pink slip of paper.

she brings it over to Matty excitedly and shoves it into his hand before straightening her back and puffing her chest out, clearly proud to have been chosen. Matty laughs at his daughter's infallible confidence before trying to straighten out the paper enough to read what's written.

“Okay let's see…” Matty says to himself, “Congratulations! If you have received this note, you have been chosen for our teacher's Secret Santa program! We at bridgeside school believe that our amazing teachers also deserve gifts this holiday season, so we choose one student from each teacher's class to be their Secret Santa. Don't worry, parents, there's a £10 limit so no need to go too wild! Students are picked based on enthusiasm and progress in school, so you should be proud to be picked! Please ensure all gifts are given to reception by Monday next week to allow time to distribute them. Thank you!” Matty finishes reading the note under his breath, and he can't help but grin to himself at the fact Annie was specially chosen.

He puts the paper down on the table and turns around to Annie, who is standing beside him with a nervous look on her face. Matty pauses for a few seconds before jumping and grabbing her, Annie shrieks at the sudden attack. He pulls her onto his lap and begins tickling all over her, revelling in her roaring laughter and infectious smile.

“Specially chosen, huh!” Matty says loudly to his daughter, still squeezing her tight in his arms and tickling where he can reach. Annie nods as best she can whilst being attacked with tickles, and Matty laughs at her gappy grin.

He soon lets up and leaves Annie sitting in his lap, looking happy as can be, “I know, Daddy!! The headmistress came to me today and said it because I've been trying so hard at my spelling!” she says, the look of pride on her face made mattys heart swell.

He remembers the late nights of practising her spelling. At the last parent’s evening, you had brought up Annie was falling behind a small bit in the weekly spelling tests. Not too much, but enough where some work at home would be beneficial. So Matty dedicated every Monday night as spelling night, and he and Annie sat and worked on it. He couldn't be happier that their hard work was recognised or that she's making such good progress.

It's then that the gravity of the situation at hand hits Matty. He has to buy a gift for you. For YOU. For the woman he… cares a great deal about. What does he buy? And for only £10! What good can he get with that? He didn't want to give you a shitty bottle of wine, this is his first opportunity to give you a gift and he wasn't about to fuck it up with a bad pinot.

Knowing he was about to spiral, Matty sent Annie off with a genuine smile and a quick hug. Annie being Annie, ran off oblivious to her dad's growing stress and began trolling around the house looking for mayhem. She had got some new hairclips in a magazine and was determined to give him a makeover.

Before he could go completely insane, Matty ran into the kitchen for his phone and just dialled the most recent number he called. Anyone would help right now, Matty was just sick of his own mind.

“Hey Matty, you alright?” Ah, Adam, perfect. He was level-headed, a good dad, and knows how to deal with Matty’s hysteria.

“Adam.” Matty starts in a disturbingly calm voice, “How could you just LEAVE when you knew what Annie was going to say?!?!” Matty scolded his best friend and was just met with the sound of laughter over the phone.

“Why would I stay? It's no big deal, right? You have said on many occasions you feel totally neutral about Miss y/n, so I felt no need to stay” Adam teased, having had many conversations with Matty about his clear crush on you.

He first saw it at the school parent's day, he and Matty were casually chatting when you walked over and he saw his friend change in front of his eyes, suddenly becoming a lovesick 16-year-old. But Matty insisted he didn't have feelings for you, according to Matty he was “remarkably and totally neutral towards you”.

Adam decided this news was a great way to test this theory. As soon as he heard Annie chattering on, he knew Matty would freak out, grab his phone, and call him. So when he got home, Adam simply made a cup of tea and sat down with his phone in his hand, waiting for a call. And 20 minutes later, his phone rang.

Silence is all Adam heard over the phone for a good few seconds, and he could almost see Matty weighing up his options with that scrunched-up face he does. He picked up his tea and loudly took a sip, reminding Matty of his presence.

On the other end of the line, Matty was doing exactly that. Does he embarrass himself and admit his feelings in exchange for help? Or does he fight to keep the last shred of dignity he had?

“Fine. I really really like her. Are you happy now?” Matty sighed, deciding that any dignity he might have had in the eyes of Adam died when he found him passed out in a bin with George at 19.

Adam grinned teasingly on the other side of the phone but decided to leave any real teasing for in person. It's just no fun when you can't see Matty's cheeks gradually turning more pink. “Okay. now that we've got that out of the way, what the fuck are you gonna get her?”

Matty scoffed at his friend's question, “Mate. Why the fuck do you think I'm calling? I have no idea!! I don't want to be boring and just get a candle and a bottle of wine.” Matty pauses thoughtfully for a moment before returning to his ramble, “although she does like candles. I remember her saying her apartment is covered in them, she even set off the smoke detector once. And she is always smelling like Jasmine so maybe that is her favourite scent? God she smells so good, you know I think her shampoo is apple and that mixed with-”

Adam cut Matty off before he started giving him your home address and national insurance number, “Dude how do you know what scent shampoo she uses? God, you're such a stalker. Don't go full Dahmer on this girl, yeah?” Adam jokes.

“It's not my fault she has nice hair! Anyway, shut up. You are not being helpful right now” Matty whines petulantly, and Adam realises he's actually freaking out about this. He decided it was time to go full dad mode and be supportive.

“Right, it's clear you know a lot about her, so why don't we focus on that? Do you know her favourite perfume or something? Maybe some jewellery she wants? I’m assuming you are not sticking to the £10 limit”

Matty simply scoffs, confirming Adam’s suspicion. Before he can continue throwing ideas at Matty, he hears him gasp, “I know what to get her!” Matty says excitedly.

Once again, silence falls over the two men, and Adam sighs, knowing what Matty wants, “and what is that, Matthew?” he says with sarcastic excitement filling his voice.

Adam can hear the grin over the phone as Matty speaks, “I'm going to get her a copy of “The Little Prince” but a proper nice one, first edition in the original French and everything” he puffed out his chest in pride as he finished, despite no one being around to see him.

“A kid's book? Matty shes a teacher. I'm sure she's sick of kid’s books, why would you get her that? Does she even know French?” Adam can't help but think Matty saw a copy on her desk and just assumed she liked it. Maybe she was just teaching with it, and Matty took the idea and ran.

“No no, you don't get it,” Matty starts, “it was her favourite book as a kid. She was obsessed and read it cover to cover so many times the spine fell apart. She told me that this book is what made her want to teach. As soon as she read it, she went into her class the next day and did a whole presentation on it, read it to her whole class, and answered questions." Matty envisioned an 8-year-old you buzzing with excitement talking about the book, your teacher smiling and encouraging as you were blabbering on.

"She had a copy from her grandmother that she treasured, but it got lost in the jumble when she moved. It was in the original French, and she learnt French just to be able to read it. Nothing means more to her than this book.” As he finished, Matty noticed the massive grin on his face, something that was inevitable whenever he spoke about you.

He decided not to talk about the one time he actually heard you speak French, not wanting to share the experience of trying to hide a boner during a school-wide meeting and sneaking off to his car pretty quickly after it wrapped up.

Adam was taken aback by Matty's words. Who was this person, and what did he do to his best mate? He's pretty sure for his last situation-ships birthday, Matty got her a card with a bouquet of lilies. And she was allergic to lilies.

But here he was, considering things you loved in childhood, things that actually mean something to you. He had never seen Matty so infatuated with someone, remembering every little thing they ever said.

Matty was in love with you.

“Fuck man you are whipped” is what Adam decided to say, not sure whether Matty had come to the whole “love” realisation by himself yet.

“Ha ha ha, Adam you're so funny.” Matty said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “So do you think it is okay? She’ll like it?” he anxiously chewed on his nails as he spoke, desperate not to fuck this up.

“It's perfect. She's gonna love it, if you can find one that is” came Adam's response, he decided to lay off the comedic responses for a little bit, just to stop Matty from having a mental breakdown.

“Oh I'll find one. Otherwise, I'll have to get her a candle, and that's just shite” his confidence was clear through the phone. And a determined Matty is someone who gets something done, whether you like it or not.

As soon as he knew what to get, he practically hung up on Hann mid-sentence, but he stayed long enough to give him a rushed goodbye. Not quite long enough to say thank you, however, but Adam got a text a few seconds later simply saying, “Thank you, I needed that”

Adam, being a middle-aged man, simply sent back a thumbs-up emoji, ‘an image that speaks a thousand words’ he thought.

////

After a week of calling every rare bookshop in the area, Matty managed to get his hands on a first edition of “The Little Prince”, for substantially more than £10 but that secret was between him, god and his wallet.

He explained to the school that Annie wanted to give her gift to you personally, so he asked if he could bring it directly to you on Friday. By some grace of god, the school agreed, and here Matty was standing outside your door gift bag in hand and pulling anxiously at his shirt.

“Matty!” You say in shock as you open the door, a beaming smile on your face. Matty took in your dress and almost had to grip the door frame to steady himself. It was the staff Christmas party that night, and it was clear you were all dressed up and ready. You stood in a sleek black dress, nothing glittery or fancy, but the way it looked on you had Matty's hands itching to touch you.

“I'm here too miss y/n” came a little voice from below. You were too busy staring into Matty’s eyes and watching them skirt over your body.

“Oh, Annie! I'm so sorry, sweetheart, your daddy is so tall I almost missed you!” You laugh out and pat Annie's head in apology. Matty couldn't help but preen at the mention of his height.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt you. You look amazing, by the way. Well, not like - not amazing in a creepy way - I mean-” Matty stuttered, trying to get back to his point. You simply nod along with his words and bit the inside of your cheek to hide the smirk threatening to break across your face.

“Anyway,” Matty said after he pulled himself together with a shake of his head, “we're here to give you your Secret Santa present! Annie, do you want to pass it to miss y/n?” he patted his daughter on the back and passed her the gift.

With flushed cheeks and a pink nose from the cold, Annie grinned up to you and passed the bag over. Matty had added a few filler presents, a candle and a bottle of perfume Annie chose, and that he thought you'd like. Just the book felt… odd. A little too personal, maybe, he didn't want to scare you off with his slightly stalker-like tendencies.

“Wow! Thank you, Annie! I didn't think I was even in this year's Secret Santa!” You lie, you knew Annie was your gift giver the day she got chosen. That cheesy smile wouldn't leave her face all day.

Annie giggled clung to her dad's leg, suddenly feeling shy at the attention. Matty simply smiled at his daughter and began to fiddle with her curls.

“Okay well, we will leave you to go to your party now. I hope you have a good time! Say bye to miss y/n Annie,” Matty prompts his daughter, who gives you a wave and runs away. Matty spins on his heels and begins to follow before turning around to say one last thing.

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way. You look beautiful” he said with a bashful smile, acting almost as shy as his daughter just had.

Words escaped you at that moment. You wanted to run and give him a hug for the present and a kiss for the compliment, but you simply whispered, “Thank you, Matty.”

The door had barely clicked shut, and you had already all but ran to your desk to open your present, your heart in your mouth at the prospect of a gift from Matty. Well, technically from Annie, but you're pretty sure if Matty gave her £10 and let her loose in Tesco, the present would end up being something totally random like a bag of celery.

But maybe you were reading too much into this. Your silly schoolgirl crush has just been growing and growing over the passing months. Your heart aches for Matty. It has gotten to the point where you sit in bed late at night and perform autopsies on conversations you had months ago. Desperate to find something said in the unsaid, something new.

You won't see him for a week, and you'll convince yourself it's just a physical attraction thing, a casual crush. But then you see him swooping in at pick up with his rockstar sunglasses and beautiful curls, and you feel your heart stutter and pause. Every time you speak with him, butterflies hammer at your ribs, and your brain seems to just stop around him. Much to your embarrassment.

Recently, you vowed to be more natural around him, totally normal. However, trying to play it cool and casual is a great plan in theory, but attempting to do that whilst looking into his eyes is an almost impossible task.

But tonight, you managed to at least play it off like Matty's comment didn't knock the wind out of you. His calling you beautiful was going to go around and around in your head for weeks. You wish you could have memorised the moment better. You should focus on his shy smile or the way he wrung his hands together anxiously. Maybe even the look of pure love in his eyes.

But you were too busy internally repeating to yourself “Don't fall over. Don't act like a twat. Make sure to smile and not freeze.” so all of those small things got lost in the jumble of thoughts.

As you pulled the tissue out of the paper, a waft of matty hit your nostrils. god, were you that desperate that even tissue paper smells like him now? You could swear it has that same musk and warmth that follows him around.

Little did you know Matty had to actively choose not to constantly think about you. He has to try not to think about the way you bite your lip when you're focusing on something. Or the way you fiddle with your hair when you're nervous, twisting it around your fingers absentmindedly. Or even the way your cheeks flush when someone compliments you, the way it spreads from your cheeks to over your nose and down to your neck. He has to really try not to think about your neck, to not obsess over the thought of pressing kisses up and down it as you giggle into him. But alas, he had actual adult responsibilities, much to his dismay, so he couldn't just sit and analyse you every waking moment.

You stick your hand in and grab something that feels like a candle, and it is… oh. It's a candle. Huh.

You're not disappointed. It smells good and has a beautiful jar, but you can't help but feel slightly odd at the lack of warmth. But whatever, you were expecting too much anyway. A candle and a bottle of wine are perfectly normal Secret Santa presents, and why should you expect anything other than that? Just because you were lusting after Matty doesn't mean he thought about you any longer than he had to.

You shake off any disappointment you had and resign yourself to the idea that this is a totally normal parent present. There won't be anything amazing or showstopping. The budget was £10 and you're sure not even world famous rock star Matty Healy could get anything good with that.

You pull out the perfume next, immediately smiling as you notice it's your favourite scent, jasmine. What a lucky guess. It's a nice bottle, too. It had you immediately thinking of a use for it afterwards, the same way any nice bottle or jar does. You must have a collection of 20 candle jars on your mantle at home filled with knickknacks, little things from the kids, or strange porcelain figures you didn't have the heart to leave in a charity shop.

The bag is still heavy in your hands, but you scrunch your face in confusion. Surely there's no budget left? Tentatively, you reach in and feel a book, which is even more confusing to you, but you pull it out anyway, interested to see what Matty thought you read.

Oh. fuck.

There in your hands was your childhood in physical form, the curly script reading “le petit prince.” Your eyes skirt over the cover as they well up. Slowly, you spin the book around and audibly gasp as you look it over, admiring its worn spine and somehow pristine cover.

Your vision is foggy, tears gathering at your lash line and you're intent on not letting them fall, but as soon as you open the book and a small certificate of authenticity falls out you can't help but wetly laugh in shock as tears stream down your cheeks.

The first edition of your favourite book of all time. The book that meant everything to you, everything to your grandmother. You never thought you'd see a first edition in real life, let alone own one.

With shaky hands, you carefully pull apart the pages and begin to read, muttering the french under your breath. Tears drip onto the desk and blow you. You sniffle and bring a shaky hand up to wipe them away, but it's futile. They continue to find their way down your cheeks.

With a pounding heart, you place down the book with the care of handling a newborn baby, and as you do so a small white slip of paper under the certificate catches your eye. You slide it out from under and try and read it despite your wet eyes.

“To y/n,

I know this is over the limit, but I also know what this book means to you. I still remember talking about it in depth on World Book Day. Us two huddled in a corner, trying to escape the other parents. Your vulnerability and honesty that day meant so much to me. Thank you for sharing. also, thank you for being the very best teacher to my little girl. I don't know where either of us would be without you. Anyway, I'll stop rambling now, Let's keep this gift between us, though, huh? I wouldn't want Mr. Johnson from the year 5 class to find out his nice cheese platter isn't the best gift of the year.

Happy holidays darling,

Matty x”

Well, safe to say any hope of that crush faltering had just died and gone to hell.

#christmas75 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fic #teacher au!#i think this is too wordy and lowkey bad... but we move #matty healy fanfic #hopefully its not too bad??

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slutforleeminho · 2 years ago

Note

how about dom maid minho 🥺

btw can i be the 🌌 anon pls

ofc you can be 🌌 anon! wow… this really has the wheels turning in my head

“it’s cute, right?” minho asked, referring to the maid outfit he was currently wearing. his voice was low and deep, even with the cute little dress he was wearing, he was still making you flustered. you were so deep in thought that you didn’t even notice him approach you, until he placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up until you tore your eyes off of his thighs that were peaking out from under the skirt to meet his gaze.

“i asked you a question, love” his eyes were dark and overflowing with lust. after a few moments with no answer, he grew impatient and wrapped the hand that was under your chin around your neck and and pushed you until your back pressed against the wall, caging you in between the cold surface, and his body that was radiating heat. “what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?” he continued to tease you “if you don’t like it i can just take it off”

“no!” you grabbed his waist and wrapped your arms around him so he couldn’t create any distance between you two. “i like it. i really, really like it” you watched as the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement at your eagerness and the hand around your neck squeezed lightly before releasing you, only to wrap it around your wrist and lead you to the bed. he sat with his back against the head board, and his legs spread, the lace along the hem of the dress laying over his upper thighs. he put his hands on your hips to lead you onto his lap so you were straddling him.

he looked up into your eyes, his were sparkling, like he was the most innocent thing you’ve ever seen, when in reality he was the farthest thing from innocent, and the next five words that came out of his mouth only proved you right.

“do you want to ride?” his hands kneaded your ass roughly as he spoke so softly. his duality was giving you whiplash, along with the way you nodded your head so fast. he giggled at your reaction and wiggled your pants off and raised the skirt of the dress over his erection revealing he had nothing on underneath. he aligned himself to your entrance and let out a grunt when his tip easily slid through your dripping folds.

“well what are you waiting for? sit on it.” he demanded and you didn’t think twice before sinking down onto his cock until he was fully nestled inside you. you both moaned in unison from the friction, and you rested your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing. “look at me” he placed his palm against your cheek and wiped away a tear, that you didn’t even know was there, with his thumb. “aww baby does it hurt? or does it feel too good?” he lifted his hips to emphasize the last word, hitting even deeper. “feels so good min” you moaned out, nuzzling your cheek into his palm and only just now noticing the little headband he was wearing. it was black with a little bit of white lace around the edges to match the rest of his outfit and it made your wall’s clench and a whimper to escape your lips. you reached your hand out to touch it and feel it in between your fingertips. minhos grip on your hip tightened and that’s when you realized you were roughly grinding down on him in search for more.

“you really do like this don’t you?” he sounded surprised and like he was more so saying it to himself than actually asking you, but you still answered anyways. “i fucking love this” you were now fully bouncing on him, moaning every time your hips met his. he pulled your shirt up and shoved the hem into your mouth to muffle your moans and so he could watch your tits bounce as you rode him.

you were getting dangerously close and you could tell by the constant twitching of his cock that he was to. “fuck! can i cum?” your voice was high pitched and squeaky. “since you asked so nicely. cum for me, beautiful” you took one last look over his little outfit and you were cumming. your legs basically gave out on you as you collapsed onto him. so he positioned himself and started fucking up into you until he was spilling his seed into you and letting out a string of curses.

after recovering from your orgasm and rolled off of him. he stood and was about to walk to the bathroom to start the shower but stopped when you said his name. “does this mean i wear the pants in this relationship now?” you laughed when he raised an eyebrow.

“sure,” he continued walking to the bathroom, the dress swaying with each step. “if you want to ride me every night, and pay for every meal, and-“

“okay! i get it” you smiled when you heard the shower running and rolled off the bed to join your boyfriend.

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