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ariasakka · 4 months ago

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ANGRY SEX WITH NANAMI 18+

Someone posted saying they wanted an angry Nanami sex story so I wrote one! Thank you for inspiring me to write this story I’ve been needing more angry sex Nanami stories so why not write one myself 🙏

Warnings

18+, MDNI, female reader, spanking, smut, punishment, taboo, anal, dark agressive dom Nanami

All Nanami stories by me will be under the hashtag NanamiAria

He’s usually not aggressive often but sometimes he has to punish you for being a brat. 2k words.

Not a writer just write for fun please don’t expect this to be perfect or the most grammatically correct! Please don’t read or continue to read if any of the themes in this story are upsetting to you. Thank you. <3

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You’ve been in a bratty mood lately. Probably because your man has been working overtime so you haven’t even able to see him as often as usual. You’ve been teasing Nanami all week. Sending him naughty pictures at work. Talking back to him more than usual. Sending him videos of you touching yourself without him with the text “thinking of you” while wearing his t shirts. Going to bed wearing nothing having him come home late at night to see you sleeping looking like a goddess but not being able to do anything about it. Nanami is trying to stay calm and collected at your teasing but his patience is slowly slipping.

Today you decide to show up at Nanami’s work bringing him the lunch he had forgotten this morning. You show up in a black mini skirt, fishnets, a black long sleeve v line shirt, with some heels Kento had gotten you for your anniversary some time ago. Nanami was an absolute sucker for skirts and fishnets and basically any item of clothing that he had bought you. You walked in greeting him with a smile with the lunch bag in hand. Nanami’s heart practically stopped the second he saw you walk in looking so sexy. He couldn’t understand why you’d been such a brat and a tease lately. He had been waking up early to make love with you in the shower and still managing to do his house work duties so why were you acting like this? Little did he know you just wanted to get under his skin. You liked his dark side but didn’t want to admit it to him.

Kento

“Hi my love, thank you for going through the trouble to bring me my lunch. I’m sorry I forgot it. You look beautiful today.”

You

“Yeah yeah, I dunno how you could’ve forgotten your lunch today Kento. I always look good.”

Kento

“My love why are you being such a brat lately?”

You

“Mmm cause I can love. Do you mind?”

You lock Nanami’s office door and walk towards him seductively. You get down on your knees under his desk and start to toy at his waistline. The two of you had never done anything at his work before. You were feeling naughty today. You can feel his erection growing at the sight of you. You can feel his eyes on your chest. Your breasts are practically spilling out of your low cut top in this position.

Kento says sternly

“Darling I’m at work.”

You

“Okay and I want you now baby.”

Kento

“You’re pushing my buttons lately. I made you cum three times this morning was that not enough? You send me pictures everyday to tease me and now this?”

You smirk ignoring his words. You undo his pants pulling them down just enough for his cock to pop out. You quickly sink your throat down onto him. He grips your hair and hisses harshly at you.

Kento

“You know what. Fine. I’ll fuck your throat but I’m going to make you regret this later. No more nice Nanami. Got it my love.”

You chuckle softly not thinking he’s at his limit yet. Oh were you so wrong. He grabs your hair harshly and pushes you all the way down on his length suffocating you with his thickness. He pushes his hips up and down with determination. He knows if he’s going to do this at work he has to cum fast in worry of getting caught. You don’t mind, you love it when he’s rough with you. It’s a side you don’t get to see often.

Nanami cums in your mouth within 10 minutes. You struggle to swallow all his seed with half of it overflowing spilling out the sides of your mouth. Nanami looks down at you with dark eyes and speaks with a dark sultry tone. Kento grips your hair tighter and demands you clean all of it up off of him. You do as he wishes.

Kento

“I’m getting off early. Maybe when I’m done with you you’ll learn to behave for me. Going to punish all the brattiness out of you sweetie.”

You

“Oh Ken you’re so cute when-“

Kento

“No. Say yes sir. Don’t say anything else. No more talking back.”

You

“Yes sir..”

Kento

“Now my love. Go home. Change into my shirt and greet me on your knees when I come home.”

You

“Ken-“

Kento

“Ah! I’m adding an extra punishment for you talking back after I told you not to. Go home my love.”

You

“Yes sir.”

You get up off your knees and exit his office going back to his house. You wanted to push his buttons but you’d never seen him this aggressive and dark before. You’d be lying if you told yourself it didn’t make your hole clench around nothing craving him. Maybe he was pushed past his limits. Usually you don’t tease him and be bratty for weeks on end. His dark side is exciting. You’re hoping he actually will ruin you back to submission like he promised.

Later when Nanami starts to unlock the door you rush towards it getting on your knees ready to greet him. Nanami looks down at you, a soft smile forms on his face, there’s still a darkness to his eyes though. He pats your head to show he’s happy you at least listened to him once today.

Kento

“Hi my love. I see you’ve decided to be a good girl for once?”

You nod

“Yes sir.”

Kento

“Don’t be fooled though love…daddy’s still not done with you. You’ve been pushing my buttons too much these last few weeks I’ve had enough. Come here.”

You follow him over to the couch. He sits down and pats his knee instructing for you to get over it. You do as he asks.

Kento

“Tsk tsk..how many times have you been bad this week darling? I think that’s how many spankings you deserve.”

You

“I- I’m sorry I don’t know how many times Kento.”

*smack* he brings his hands down to your bottom harshly.

Kento

“You didn’t address me correctly.”

You

“Sorry sir. I don’t know how many times I was bad sir.”

Kento massages the red skin gently for a moment before speaking

“Let’s just say you were bad 28 times. I think that’s a fair amount of spankings. After all I’m sure you were bad much more than that. But I can’t break you with just spankings that’s not all I have in store for you tonight love.”

You

“Yes sir whatever you think is best I’ll take.”

Kento

“Count for me darling.”

Kento continues to spank you 28 times as you count each painfully hard slap. By the end of it you’re almost in tears. You thank him for spanking you as he asks. He really wasn’t lying when he said he would make you behave. How you feel right now so powerless and dominated. It makes you never want to be a brat to your loving boyfriend ever again.

Kento

“Good girl. You took that so well for me but I don’t believe you’re truly finished being a brat yet.”

Nanami pulls your hair forcing you off of him. He rips off his shirt that you’re wearing leaving you completely naked under him now. He bends you over the arm rest on the couch. Nanami starts to undo his pants. You feel a harsh slap with his belt before you can feel the hot tip of his cock pressing at your entrance. You’re soaked. He slipped in so easily. He started to pound you pushing you down on the armrest harder and harder. You moaned louder at each thrust. You can’t believe how turned on you could get from so much pain. Or maybe it was just because you liked him being dominate and aggressive with you.

Out from the drawer next to the couch he pulls out a butt plug. He bought this the last time you were bratty. He’s been saving it for a time when you were naughty again and needed to be punished. He saw last time you were a brat that spankings clearly aren’t enough you get too turned on by them. He needed something a little more taboo.

Kento smiles darkly and says

“My love. I don’t think spankings are enough for as big of a brat as you. I have something else for you my love.”

He slows down his thrusts and places him thumb at the entrance of your asshole teasing you ever so slightly.

Kento

“You’ve never had something in this hole before have you?”

You

“…no..n-no sir I haven’t. Please Ken it won’t fit.”

Kento pushes the butt plug into you slowly. Devilishly watching as your tight hole accommodates to the size. Rolling his eyes back biting his lip at the feeling of your pussy clamping down on his cock the deeper the butt plug goes. Once it’s all the way in he resumes to thrust into you harshly.

Kento

“How does it feel my love?”

You

“It hurts sir-“

Kento

“Good. Now maybe you’ll learn not to be such a brat. You’re lucky I’m not cutting down your allowance aswell.”

Kento removes his tie and wraps it around your wrists tying them behind your back. He wants you to feel everything. He’d be lying to himself if he said this didn’t feel good. He loved letting off steam and fucking you like this. Usually he’s so gentle with you because he’s afraid to hurt you. When your bratty he gets to fuck you how he wants not worrying if it hurts you because honestly if it does it’s just part of your punishment.

After an hour or so. He finally finishes spilling his second load of the day inside you. Growling louder than ever before as he spills into you. At this point you’re fucked out of your mind. You’ve came at least 3 times on him.

He slowly removes the plug and himself before cleaning you up with a warm towel. Nanami starts to run a bath for the both of you putting all of your favorite scents and soap inside. You definitely deserved the punishment but he wants to spoil you after for doing so good at taking it. He grabs you in his arms taking you into the nice bubble bath with him.

Kento

“You look so beautiful my love. Will you be good now?”

You

“Yes Nanami. I promise. I love you so much.”

Kento

“Good, I love you more.”

Nanami places a soft kiss on the top of your head. He pulls you in close cuddling you in the tub. Now that you’ll be good he’s ready to spoil you with love and affection once more.

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 10 months ago

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we can’t be friends

Summary: Hazel, who has a giant crush on you, gets paired with you for a class project. She’s convinced you could never like her back because she thinks you’re straight, what happens when she’s proven wrong?

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Fem!reader

Contains: mature language and content, hurt/comfort, smut, fingering (both receiving), oral, scissoring kinda, floor sex, loser!hazel, dom!hazel, fem!reader, sub!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: (loosely) based off the song We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande, and requested by anonymous. Requests are still open for Hazel Callahan and Kit Tanthalos! Enjoy!

———

Hazel stared at you from across the classroom, a deep longing in her eyes. Mr. G was rambling something about 9/11 and how it somehow pertained to his divorce but she wasn’t absorbing a word of his lecture. All her attention was focused on you.

PJ noticed Hazel’s obvious sense of distraction and rolled her eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, Hazel.”

Hazel’s face fell slightly as she looked down at her lap. “You don’t know that…” she mumbled.

“I do, actually. My gaydar is perfect, and she…” PJ motioned her head towards you. “…is not.”

Hazel's head shot straight up to look at PJ. “Weren’t you the one who thought Brittany was gay?”

PJ scoffed. “Ok? So my gaydar had a malfunction. It’s fine now, and trust me. You do not occupy that pretty little head of hers.” She shot a pointed look at Hazel. “She doesn’t want you. She wants a boyfriend. With a penis.”

A sad puppy dog look covered Hazel’s face as she turned back to look at you. You certainly did have a pretty little head, with long silky hair falling over your shoulders, perfectly framing your face. Maybe it was because Hazel had little to no experience with makeup, but she always thought yours was flawless, with your eyeshadow consistently color coordinated with your outfits. Today it was hot pink to match your miniskirt and pink pumps, paired with fishnets and a black tank top with writing on it that Hazel couldn’t quite make out.

You took a break from taking notes to reach into your backpack and find your lipgloss, carefully reapplying a layer. A dopey smile formed on Hazel’s face as she watched the sparkly pink solution trace your lips, wondering how it would taste against her own. PJ rolled her eyes once again. “Get over it, Hazel.”

Before Hazel could even open her mouth to respond, the sound of Mr. G’s voice echoed across the room, turning everyone’s attention to the front. He was going on about some new partner project, Hazel could barely focus. She soon, however, perked up when he mentioned your name.

“You’re partnered with Hazel.” He finished.

Hazel’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to look at you, and you met her gaze with a bright smile. She offered an awkward nod back, and quickly looked away.

Mr. G soon finished with the list of partners and the bell rang to signify the end of class. PJ walked out with Josie, who could be heard panicking over being partnered with Isabel. Hazel was packing up her stuff for her next class when she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see you standing over her desk, a glossy grin spread across your face. “Hey Hazel.”

Hazel tried to swallow, but found her mouth was completely dry. She managed to squeak out a low “…hey.”

“Looks like we’re partners for this assignment. I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to work on it after school? Today?” You brushed a lock of hair out of your face, making Hazel wish she could do it for you.

She licked her dry lips and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure.”

You pressed your phone into Hazel’s shaking hands and you both exchanged numbers before “bye’s” and “see you later’s.” Throughout the rest of the day, it was agreed over text that you would meet at your locker after school before heading to Hazel’s house to work on the project. You had originally suggested your place, but after Hazel mentioned her mom being out of town on business, you were all for meeting at her’s instead.

When the last bell rang, Hazel ran to the bathroom and spent fifteen minutes fussing over her hair, trying to get it to swoop just the right way. Unfortunately, PJ’s voice saying “she’s not gay, it’s never gonna happen” rang through her head. After deciding it just wasn’t worth it then, she gave up and dejectedly made her way over to your locker.

You were already there waiting for her, and seeing you lean against your locker in the empty hallway made Hazel’s heart flutter. You looked just as perfect as you had earlier today (except Hazel could’ve sworn you had pulled your black tank top just a little farther down). You noticed her approaching you, and flashed her a bright smile.

“Hey Hazel, ready to go?” You asked. Hazel nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! I’m excited to be paired with you. I’m sure after this project we’ll become great friends.” You lifted your hand to squeeze Hazel’s upper arm, but she couldn’t feel it over the pang in her chest. Your words swam around in her mind.

“Great friends…” she didn’t want to be your friend. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be the one to laugh with you, and hold you when you cried. She wanted to take you out on dates, and slow dance with you at prom. She wanted you to look up at her with your big doe eyes right before you kiss her, and wrap your arms around her shoulders to pull her closer while she savored the taste of your signature lip gloss. She wanted to touch you. God how she wanted to touch you…

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do any of that. Not if you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at some football player.

You wanted to be friends. Hazel wanted you… but more than anything she wanted you in her life. If being friends was the only way to do that, then so be it.

—————

The drive to Hazel’s house was pretty much silent, minus a few attempts at small talk from you. Hazel made a few attempts to respond, but mainly kept her focus on the grip of her steering wheel and the road ahead.

Hazel turned into her driveway, and walked you through her front door, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She motioned for you to sit next to her on the floor, and got out her pencils and the project rubric. After about five minutes of complete silence, Hazel’s head shot up. “Snacks!”

You looked up from the rubric in confusion. “What?”

“Snacks! I forgot to offer you snacks when we came in. Shit, I’m sorry! I’m a terrible host.” Hazel panicked. You had to stifle a giggle under your hand. Somehow, Hazel was being so adorable right now.

“It’s ok, Hazel. I’m not hungry. I promise.” Hazel rubbed the back of her neck as a faint shade of red crept up on her cheeks.

“Sorry. You just…” Hazel trailed off. You cocked your head in question. “I… what?”

“You just… sometimes you make me nervous…” Hazel mumbled, staring down at her lap.

Your lips parted slightly in shock at her confession. “I make you nervous?”

“Look… just forget I said anything.” Hazel picked the project rubric back up. “So, do you have any idea what this project is supposed to be on? I wasn’t really paying attention…”

You pulled the rubric out of Hazel’s hands and tossed it to the side, forcing her to look at you. “I’m not gonna forget what you said. Hazel, how do I make you nervous?”

A defeated sigh left Hazel’s lips as she realized you weren’t going to give this up. She squeezed her eyes shut, choking out your name before her next words. “I’m sorry but… we can’t be friends.”

It took a moment for you to process Hazel’s words, but as soon as you did, your face crumpled out of hurt. You were trying not to cry, but you couldn’t decide if it was from hurt or confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t be friends.” Hazel repeated, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Whenever I’m around you, my hands get all sweaty and my mouth gets dry, and I can barely get any words out because… I don’t know. You do this thing to me. I can’t focus in class because all I can think about is how pretty you are and what flavor your lip gloss is and…”

Hazel’s incessant rambling was interrupted by the feeling of something wet and sticky against her cheek. She blinked, trying to process what just happened.

You kissed her. On the cheek.

A faint blush crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to feel where your kiss still lingered. She finally met your gaze to see you staring back at her, a giddy smile covering your face.

“You kissed me.”

You brushed another lock out of your face and smiled down at your lap. “Yeah. I did.”

“But I’m not a boy.”

You shot your head up and gaped at her, bewildered. Did you hear her correctly?

“Huh? I know…” you trailed off as realization set into you. “You think I’m straight?”

“Well, yeah. You’re all like… feminine and stuff…” Hazel mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

A thick silence filled the room as you stared at her, wide eyed. Hazel held her breath and refused to look at you. She thought for sure she fucked up before she heard… laughter?

Hazel looked up to see you in absolute stitches from laughing so hard. On one hand, she was glad you didn’t seem mad at her, but on the other… she really had no idea what you were laughing at.

After a moment, you calmed down, and stuck out one of your wrists to show Hazel a pink, white, and orange threaded bracelet. “Trust me, I’m not straight. And this…” you gestured to your outfit. “…is called hyperfem, and it’s actually meant to deter the male population.”

Several thoughts swirled around Hazel’s mind. Some “fuck PJ” or “how did I not notice the bracelet?” But mostly, all she could think about was how you were sitting in front of her, out and proud, in an empty house, and beaming from ear to ear.

You giggled at Hazel’s astonished expression and looked down at your lap. “I was kind of wondering why you had never talked to me before. Guess I know now.”

Hazel gulped. “I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly, you decided to cut her off by tossing all the papers between you to the side, and crawling over to her lap. You put one hand on her knee and brought your face as close to hers as you could without touching. Hazel’s breath hitched at this new position, and you hummed as your eyes dropped to her lips. “Now that you know I’m gay… what do you plan to do about it?”

It took a moment for your words to settle into Hazel’s mind, but as soon as they did, she brought her face forward and kissed you, melting instantly at your touch. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she shivered from the pure adrenaline. She couldn’t believe how soft your lips were, and the taste of your lipgloss felt absolutely intoxicating.

You pulled away suddenly, smirking as Hazel whined at the loss of your touch. “So… what flavor is my lip gloss?”

Hazel hummed in thought, running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “Watermelon?”

“Bingo.”

A devilish grin spread across Hazel’s face before she grabbed your jaw and pulled you back in, forcing you to tuck your knee into her lap to keep balance. Her tongue danced against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. A small giggle escaped from the back of your throat as you parted your lips and let her deepen the kiss.

Hazel’s hand left your jaw and slowly made its way down to gently caress the thigh you still had perched in her lap. You felt your body shiver at this new sensation, causing Hazel to pull away and survey your reaction.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice. You nodded, your half-lidded eyes clouded with lust. “Please.”

Hazel caught your lips in hers again, and gripped at your fishnet-clad thigh. You moaned at the feeling of her fingertips caressing your nearly-bare skin. You had no idea your thighs could be so sensitive, but here you were, falling apart at her literal fingertips.

By now you were mentally begging Hazel to push her hand up just a little higher, so you grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled her close until you were on your back and she was hovering over you. Her big blue eyes looked like pools you were dying to swim in as she peered down at you with a look of nothing but content.

You dragged your top teeth against your bottom lip and giggled. “Tell me again how pretty I am?”

Hazel smirked as she continued to rub her thumb along the inside of your thigh. “So pretty. Like a princess.”

Your body involuntarily shivered at this new nickname, and Hazel found it impossible not to notice. “Oh, you like that? Princess?”

A muffled moan vibrated against your puffy pink lips in response. Fuck, when did Hazel get so… dominant?

She ran her hand just under the edge of your tank top, looking up at you for approval. You nodded, and she got to work pulling it up and over your head, leaving your stomach exposed and your chest covered with nothing but a black lace bralette. Hazel gulped at the sight of you, her spontaneous dominance momentarily leaving her. She swore she had never seen anything this beautiful. She leaned down again to kiss you once, softly and sweetly, before slowly leaving a trail of kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and down to the top of your breasts.

Hazel’s big blue eyes stared up at you as she ran her tongue across the top of one of your tits, gently testing the waters. You let out a gentle moan, purely from the eroticism of it all. You swore you could cum just from looking into Hazel’s fuck me eyes.

“Hazel,” you breathed out, sitting up slightly to lean on your elbows. “You can take it off.”

A nervous look clouded Hazel’s features for a brief moment before being replaced by one dark with desire. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

God, you could feel yourself get wetter every time she used that stupid nickname.

Getting your bra off wasn’t necessarily a fast and flawless task for Hazel, as she was used to the simplicity of sports bras rather than the confusing clasps of a bralette. Luckily, you both had a good sense of humor about it, which made the situation far less awkward. Eventually, Hazel opted to just pull it over your head like a t-shirt, tossing it over her shoulder immediately after.

Hazel never thought she’d see the day where she’d have the Popular Princess of Rockbridge High’s tits practically served to her on a silver platter, but here they were, exposed in all their glory, and hers for the taking. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, running her tongue along the erect bud as she used her hand to gently massage the other. It felt incredible, but as much as you loved watching Hazel Callahan play with your tits, there was another part of you that was much more desperate to be played with.

Your hips involuntarily bucked against Hazel’s stomach, forcing her to pull away and click her tongue disapprovingly. “So impatient. Never took you for a sub.”

“Never took you for a dom.” You fired back, surprisingly quickly considering how mushy your brain felt.

Hazel simply shrugged and flashed a wicked grin. “Guess you do something to me.”

She slipped one hand down to the waistband of your skirt and started to undo your belt buckle until it was loose enough for her to slide it down your legs. Her fingers danced along your now completely exposed fishnets while she plucked at the delicate little strings.

“Funny,” she started, gently pulling at the thin threads. “If you weren’t wearing anything under these, I would totally keep them on while I fucked you.”

Her blunt choice of words sent palpitations straight to your clit, forcing a shiver down the length of your entire body. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to because she just shrugged. “Too bad you are. Gotta take them off.”

In a way, you were grateful for the black panties you had worn under your fishnets. Watching Hazel undress you to any capacity was a bigger turn on than anything any porn site had to offer. You made a mental note to wear more clothes next time.

By now you were down to nothing but the aforementioned silky black panties. Hazel moved her hand back to your thigh, rubbing her thumb along the inside teasingly. She reached up and allowed her finger to gently brush over the tiny crease where your leg ended and your panties began, looking up at you for affirmation before continuing.

You sighed, rolling your bottom lip between your front teeth. “Please Hazel. Please touch me.”

Hazel’s stomach couldn’t help but flutter every time one of your desperate pleas hit her ears, but she tried not to let it show. Still, it was difficult to ignore the dampness in her boxers, thankfully still hidden by her shorts. On the other hand, your panties were on full display, the black color managing to hide your wet spot from Hazel’s vision, but failing to keep your secret when she dragged her finger up your clothed cunt.

“Holy shit.” Hazel muttered under her breath. “So fucking wet already?”

You were far too turned on to even begin to respond to her taunts, opting instead to raise your hips and signify Hazel to take off your panties. Hazel, however, had other plans. She continued to stroke the length of your covered cunt, enjoying watching your hips stutter every time she so much as grazed your clit.

As much as you loved the cloth friction rubbing against your slit, the growing pool of wetness that resulted was beginning to make you feel suffocated. You lifted your hips to chase her touch, moaning with desperation. Hazel smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Patience, pretty girl. I can’t do anything until you tell me what you want.”

Hazel’s finger picked at the waistband of your panties, while her darkened eyes stared down at you. You struggled to speak, your brain far too mushy to form a complete sentence. How in the hell were you this fucked out, and Hazel had barely touched you?

“P-please Haze… I need you mph… take them off…”

Another wicked grin appeared on Hazel's face as she leaned down again to praise your obedience. “Such a good girl.”

Her mouth latched onto your jaw as her fingers curled over the top of your waistband. You raised your hips, and Hazel pulled off your panties in one quick motion.

Now that you were completely exposed, you felt completely exposed, which wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable feeling. Your legs began to shut involuntarily, catching the attention of the girl hovered above you.

Her eyes went wide as she crawled off of you and put her hands up. “Hey, woah, are you ok? Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry! I should have checked in more. We can stop if you want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Hazel’s sudden transition out of her dominant alter ego caught you off guard. Still though, you couldn’t help but melt a little. She was being so sweet, making sure you were ok, you almost felt a little bad for her. You didn’t mean to freak her out.

You sheepishly smiled up at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little weird being the only one naked is all.”

Hazel blinked at you, processing your words. Almost like a lightbulb went off in her head, she jumped up and practically tore all the clothing off her body, throwing each piece over her shoulder as soon as it was off. You couldn’t help but notice a string of arousal momentarily connecting her slick to her boxers, breaking only after she slid them down her legs.

Hazel’s body read like a painting, with each brush stroke precisely positioned to perfect the masterpiece. Her wetness glistened from in between her legs, and you couldn’t help but admire the beauty standing before you. However, you didn’t get to admire for long, as Hazel was already repositioning herself over you.

“Better?” She asked.

You sighed. “Definitely.”

Hazel immediately got to work trailing kisses down your body while thumbing through the folds of your slit. Soft moans echoed from your lips every time she’d slightly dip into your entrance for some more lubricant, and then frustrated groans would roll out whenever she immediately pulled out. God, she had access to every part of you and still managed to be such a tease.

Eventually, Hazel kissed her way down to your pelvic bone, hovering her face just over where you wanted her the most. Her hot breath tickled your dripping wet folds, making you tremble with anticipation. She stuck out her tongue and gently kitten-licked your clit to gauge your reaction, staring up at you as she did. A soft whimper left your throat, causing a smug smirk to form on Hazel’s face. Starting to gain some confidence back, she locked eyes with you and slowly licked up the entire length of your cunt, from your entrance all the way to the hood of your clit. You whined, throwing your head back against the carpet.

“Feel good?” Hazel asked, not bothering to wait for your response as she already knew the answer.

Hazel dived into you like a starved woman, lapping up your slick like it contained the very thing she needed to survive. Broken moans fell from your parted lips as you desperately grasped at her hair, trying to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Your hips bucked against her face, a part of you dying to see her features covered in your juices.

Her name found its way out of your mouth, almost involuntarily. “Hazel I… mph… fuck…”

“Fuck yeah. I love it when you say my name, pretty girl.” Hazel exclaimed, eyes rolling in the back of her head. You groaned. Dominant Hazel could have very easily put you into cardiac arrest, you were pretty sure.

The feeling of Hazel’s tongue against your engorged clit was hypnotizing, but your entrance was also twitching for attention. You wanted, no, you needed her inside you.

You grabbed Hazel’s hair and pulled it to lift her off you. She started to whine at the loss of your taste, but quickly looked up at you to make sure you were alright. “Everything ok, princess?”

“Hazel, I… I wanna ride your fingers. Please.” You panted breathlessly.

Hazel’s body shifted at your bold choice of words before a dark desire clouded her face again. “Of course.”

She reached up and crashed her lips against yours again, the taste of your own pussy still lingering on her tongue and coating your mouth in the most arousing way. You both readjusted to where she was on her back and you were now hovering over top of her. She adjusted her right hand in the “come here” position with her middle and ring fingers standing, and rested it in the middle of her thigh.

“All yours, honey.” She looked up at you with a goofy smile and half lidded eyes.

You positioned your entrance over her fingertips, shifting slightly before sliding down onto her knuckles. Hazel's fingers curled to hit your g-spot, forcing your head to fall back with a throaty groan.

“Feel good, gorgeous?” Another one of Hazel’s praises fell from her lips.

“Fuck Hazel, those nicknames are gonna kill me…” you whined.

Hazel smirked. “Oh yeah, you like that? Gorgeous? Pretty girl? My princess?”

As you were drinking in Hazel’s sweet nothings and riding her long fingers, your eyes fell down to her lap. Her exposed cunt glistened with her own arousal, dripping down her thighs and onto your carpet. A wicked idea popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Your hand traveled down to the folds of Hazel's slick, forcing the brunette beauty underneath you to jump at the sudden touch. “Honey, what are you…”

“Is this ok?” You asked softly. Hazel nodded quickly, realizing what you were getting at. You hastily licked your fingers and slid them into her twitching cunt.

Hazel moaned at the feeling of your fingers inside her. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good. So good to me.”

The longer you bounced on Hazel’s hand, the more you felt that familiar tight feeling in your abdomen. “Hazel, I’m…”

“Yeah… mph… me too.” She managed to whisper under her breath.

Hazel positioned her thumb to rub against your clit, forcing your body to tremble in sputtered shocks. You curled your palm to stimulate her clit, and you could tell she was almost as close as you were.

“Hazel, can we… mph… cum together?” You asked, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The brunette underneath you was already starting to fall apart. “Fuck baby… so close… let go… I’ll follow… yeah?”

You rolled your hips against her, using your free hand to position her wrist where you needed her to touch you. Your hips sputtered, your core tightened, your clit throbbed. “Hazel, I… mph fUCK!”

Your head rolled back as you let out a sound so primal, you weren’t even sure it was sexy. Hazel soon followed, her groans and whimpers reverberating around the room as her hips sputtered under you. You rode out your climaxes together, the erotic sounds of sex disappearing into the nearly empty house.

Hazel couldn’t believe it. Not only was her longtime crush gay, not only was she fucking you, but she had just given you a mind-blowing orgasm at the same time you gave her one. Fuck, the very thought almost made her cum a second time.

You rolled off of her, and snuggled into her chest while she wrapped her arm around you. “Wow…”

“That was… unexpected…” Hazel muttered breathlessly.

You giggled. “Yeah, no kidding.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, both of you just enjoying the presence of the other, the project from before long forgotten.

You looked up at her, planting a soft kiss on her jaw. “Still think we can’t be friends?”

“I think we’re a little more than friends now.” Hazel chuckled.

Your heart fluttered at her suggestion. “Yeah? You want to?”

“I mean, yeah, if you want to.”

You nodded, snuggling back into her chest, close to falling asleep after so much activity. Hazel continued to stare up at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered across her features.

“PJ is gonna lose her mind after this.”

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x reader smut #kit tanthalos #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #sapphic #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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toxicanonymity · 10 months ago

Text

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

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You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave.

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door.

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform.

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking.

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away. “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you.

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso. His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.”

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm.

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb.

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare.

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.” He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door.

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away.

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?”

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants.

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb.

“Spread’em,” he commands.

You widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you.

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry.

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.”

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra.

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out. He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?”

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency. He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants.

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair.

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him.

He groans as you come on his cock. As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening.

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face.

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.”

You laugh in shock.

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer.

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair.

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later.

“Just think about it,” he offers.

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #jailbird #joel miller x female reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x ofc #cellmate's nephew!joel #CN!Joel Miller #cellmate's nephew!joel miller

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fear-is-truth · 26 days ago

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i can imagine singer reader. her origin story is dating rodrick in hs, and for a few of their gigs, they let her sing on stage which led to them gaining much more traction (obvi a girl with a gorg voice!!!).

loded diper never made it past highschool, and honestly they never intended it to. but, now !reader has a band. and i can just see it all so clearly, and i fear i am not making this ask clear at all but i can't think of how to word it.

INTRODUCING… SINGER!READER

faded loded diper shirt, sleeves torn off. flannel shirts (stolen from her boyfriend), chunky rings, silver. nails painted blacked or chipped, depending on the day. torn fishnets, combat boots and converse. black eyeliner, done by rodrick (she insists he does a better job than her). monster energy in hand. hole, bikini kill, joan jett—riot grrrl anthems. keychains hanging from her bag.

it all started in his parents’ basement. sticky floors, tangled cords, and amps turned up way too loud. rodrick let her sing one night as a joke, but the second her voice hit the mic, everyone stopped laughing. even him.

they started letting her on stage for a few gigs. she was known as “the girl” in the band. the reason loded diper started pulling bigger crowds. the guys teased her about it, but they all knew the truth—people weren’t coming for the music. they came for her.

they stayed together, even after loded diper fell apart. high school ended, rodrick got into college and even managed to get a part-time job—something she never thought he’d actually do. the bandmates drifted off.

but she didn’t stop. couldn’t stop.

she still has the loded diper shirt he gave her, the sharpie had faded, but she never got rid of it. keeps it folded in a drawer with her other relics from high school—the setlists scribbled on notebook paper, a few grainy photos, the drumstick he broke during one of their best shows.

now, she has a band of her own. inspired by hole, bikini kill, avril lavigne and joan jett. monster energy cans scattered across their shared apartment. a lipstick-stained coffee mug on the amp. her guitar case is covered in stickers, but her favourite says, “don’t be a groupie, be a rockstar”

she’s the one chasing her dream now, playing shows in sweaty little venues while he works and drums in his free time. her boyfriend shows up to every gig, leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed, pretending he isn’t as proud as he is. sometimes, rodrick still misses being on stage with her. watching her take over the crowd while he kept the beat behind her. but he knows this is her moment, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#rodrick heffley x reader #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk rodrick #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley imagine #rodrick heffley #rodrick imagines #rodrick fanfic #rodrick rules

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banquetwriter · 9 months ago

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can u write a smut of an insecure plus sized goth reader x johnnie please? she's a virgin and after being together for a few months she asks him could they do it, and he eats her out n fucks her n stuff 🙏🙏 make it really soft pls and thank u i love ur work btw 🖤🖤

୨୧ Batty love ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ goth!fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ smut, losing virginity, getting eaten out, general shenanigans

summary: ʚ johnnie isn’t gonna let you being inexperienced stop him from devouring you ɞ

Words: 2234

An: i know this isn't the best but I'm legitimately do sick rn 😞

SUPPORT ME

You haven't stopped looking at your phone for at least two days. Johnnie, your boyfriend, had just hard-launched your relationship for the first time on Instagram. And to your shock, 95% of the comments were so positive. Everyone complimented your goth appearance.

This much praise was addicting. Being plus size meant a lot of insecurities made by the pathetic losers of society. There were of course a few nice comments… those weren't the ones you kept staring at. Criticizing your looks or body.

Johnnie had warned you about this happening, and you promised him the world knowing about you two was worth it, and it was, but god did it hurt. Johnnie Was out streaming with Jake today so that left you alone for a good few hours.

It was useless trying to wait around crying over some loser online who couldn't handle the fact their celebrity crush didn't pick them. You sat up rubbing your face carefully not trying to hit your piercings at all. You scrolled around on your phone’s playlist before connecting to a speaker.

You started to shift through your closet to come up with an outfit. Maybe you and Johnnie could go out tonight? It was hard to get dressed in full goth normally, especially when you weren't feeling good about yourself.

You settled on a long black skirt with silver shiny bats that were sporadically speckled on it and paired it with an ‘i ❤️ emo boys’ t-shirt with a corset. You put your outfit on by pairing your black stockings and fishnet top for your arms.

You sat down at your desk singing along to your beloved playlist. You turned your light on your mirror searching for your hair clips. You managed to locate them by clipping your hair out of your face. Your music was briefly interrupted by a text notification.

You pick up your phone and it is from Johnnie, ‘should be done soon. Just filmed for Jake's, we're gonna do mine now. Probably just dick around Walmart or something. See you soon love 🖤’ you smiled at his text.

You responded back within seconds ‘Have fun filming (but not too much fun without me lol) 🖤🖤’

You sat your phone down, adjusting your shirt, and you started on your makeup. You put on primer, then foundation, the concealer, and to finish your base off you pack on some powder letting it sit on your face. You pulled out your phone and snapped a selfie of your half-done make-up.

You stuck your tongue off a little for the picture. You posted it on your main Instagram story with a goth song of course. Your Instagram gained quite a few followers from Johnnie’s post. It was exciting and also very scary.

You decided the powder baking on your face was about done so you brushed it off. You grabbed your contour brush and packed some onto it. You started to carve your face onto the white base using the black powder.

Now it was time for your eye makeup. It was the hardest part. You spent a good while meticulously adding your eyeliner and eyeshadow. Once you were done, sufficiently looking like a bat, you finished it off with black lipstick and some setting spray.

You put on accessories and teased your hair to high heaven. And you were all ready. You sprayed some perfume on and looked in the mirror. Fuck did you look good. You posed a little admiring yourself, you took your phone out again and decided to take a few pictures.

This time you posted them as posts and not a story so anyone could say anything. It scared you but you couldn't hide forever. You were dating Johnnie and no one could change that.

It took only a few minutes before the comments came rolling in. All of which were positive, it made your heart soar with all the compliments. You were smiling until you read one: ‘Johnnie eating good tonight’ . It was a nice comment and funny naturally.

There was just one issue. You and Johnnie haven't had sex yet, and furthermore, you have never had sex. Ever. Sure you used a few toys here and there but never has another person shared such an intimate moment with you. You had already worried yourself sick about this. Johnnie Was sexually active and therefore, inevitably he would want to have sex with you.

You were ready… you think at least. You wanted to, of course you did, have you seen your boyfriend? He was such a fucking hottie. You had plenty of dreams of ripping his clothes off and going under the covers. You were just nervous.

You did actually weigh a lot more than your boyfriend and no offense to him he wasn't exactly built to handle all you could offer. The nerves rattled through your body. But you were a full-grown woman and there wasn't anything wrong with taking your time to have sex.

If Johnnie didn't understand that (which you're sure he would) then this wasn't the relationship for you. You shook your thoughts of breaking up with Johnnie away. This wasn't a time to worry.

It was only a few more minutes before Johnnie came home. He stepped into your apartment, and he stopped when looking at you. His jaw faltered open. “Wow, how are you mine?” he asked, closing the door, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“From your strapping good looks and charm of course.” you purred, moving a strand of his hair from his face. You planted a small kiss on his now-exposed skin. “Yeah sure,” he murmured against your hair, planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled at him, your eyes holding each other. His eyes seem to almost darken looking at you. You pull him into a kiss, one he gladly returns. His hands are holding onto your corseted waist. Even through the thick fabric, you can feel him clutching your body.

Your kisses got more heated as he started to move his hands down your body. You had done this with him before. It didn't scare you much anymore. Of course it was nerve-racking, but not scary. His touch felt so nice even if it was through your clothes.

He slowly moaned into your mouth as you gently tugged his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered slowly pulling away from you. He wrapped his hands into your pulling you towards your couch. Your nerves jumped into your throat knowing what was coming.

And yes you wanted to so fucking bad, you needed your hot boyfriend inside you. He gently pushed you onto the couch, you fell back ruining your cute decorative pillows. He positions himself between your legs, his mouth hungry to devour all of you.

You wanted to enjoy him you really did but your heart was pounding out of your chest with nerves. “Johnnie-” you asked quietly against his lips. He pulled back sensing your worry. “We haven't done anything yet-” you started, unsure how to keep going you stayed silent.

“It's fine if you don't wanna, you know, tonight.” he spoke softly, “No trust me I want to. It's just that I've never done that before. I've never had sex before.” you confessed. You could see his eyes widen. You felt like you were holding his breath.

“Woah, really?” he asked, leaning towards you, a small cheeky smile plastered on his lips. “Yeah, not that I’m waiting for marriage or something but I don't know I just haven't yet,” you said shrugging. “That's ok, are you still down to or?” he asks, staring at you sheepishly.

“Of course I am, I just need you to be slow I guess,” you whispered to him. He glances at your lips for a minute, “I can do that.” he says before your lips crash onto one another.

His hand crept down to your ankle and slowly started to run his hand up your legs, he reached the end of your stocking. He hooked his fingers over the clothing and pulled them off your body repeating it for your other leg.

He looked into your eyes as he slipped his hands back under your skirt, hooking delicate fingers over your panties and slowly pulling them off your body. The feeling of his hands on your thighs was sending waves of pleasure to your core.

You've been horny before but nothing compared to the feelings you felt as your boyfriend slowly lowered to his knees. Kissing up and down your legs. “Are you doing ok?” he asks between kisses up your thighs.

“Y-yeah I'm good,” you said quietly, eyes watching Johnnie like a hawk. He smirks against your skin. He slowly pushes your skirt up your body revealing your bare legs. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your cunt.

You swore you could see stars with the amount of pleasure That coursed through you. The end of your fingers and toes felt tingly and cold. Johnnie moved up to face again, he slowly started to kiss you again. “M’gonna move my hand now. Like my fingers ok?” he said against your lips.

“Ok,” you whispered back, and you spread your legs widely for him. He slowly dipped his finger into your sopping cunt. You let out a gasp at the sensation. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you. It felt good but it wasn't enough for you.

As if Johnnie could read your mind, he pumped out of you once again. When he entered back in he had two fingers this time. It stung for a second or two then pleasure returned to your body as he started to curve his finger into you.

“Oh fuck.” you moaned out, you can guess how people get addicted to this feeling. You felt like a little pervy teenager with raging hormones. The feeling of Johnnie hitting your G-spot repeatedly was sending you over the edge.

“Johnnie.” you mewled out, to nothing in particular. “I need more please,” you begged, having a sense of missing something. “If you insist on it my love.” he pulled out of you, his fingers dripping wet. You watched as he crouched down further.

He kissed slowly on your thighs before reaching your clit. He pressed a soft kiss right on your spot. You felt yourself clench over nothing and it drove you wild. He continued kissing down until he reached your hole. He slowly prodded his tongue into you.

Very gently at first to help you get used to the feeling. You felt the pleasure tenfold as soon as he began to rub your clit, fully pumping his tongue in and out of you. “Oh fuck hold on,” you murmured to him.

He stopped cocking his head slightly. You quickly snap off your corset, immediately releasing tension in your gut. You quickly pulled your shirt off, your bra going with it.

You were now naked minus the skirt bunched up around your waist. “M’fuck.” he whispered looking at your tits. He had what looked like a painful erection at this point. His skinny jeans looked like they were gonna burst open.

“You ready?” you asked him, gesturing to his painfully hard erection. “Fuck yeah,” he whined undoing his studded belt, he started to further undress himself. You followed suit pushing your skirt down.

Once he was completely naked, he leaned down and started to kiss you again. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped a few times attempting to get ready for your body. After about a minute he lined up his leaking cock to your entrance.

He slowly pushed into you. You let out a wanton gasp as he bottomed out. “Fuck.” he growled into your ear. He fumbled around trying to find your hand and brought it down to your clit. You started to rub to your pleasure.

At the same time, he started to push into you slowly at first then after a minute he began to push into you at a quicker pace. “Fuck your so tight. So glad I get this pussy all to myself,” he whined into your ear. You couldn't hold yourself anymore. The coil in your stomach was going to snap.

You felt The familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach and your limbs. “Im gonna fucking cum.” you whined out, grabbing at his torso and leaving a long scratch. Johnnie held your eye contact nodding at you.

The coil finally snapped, your walls clenching around him. “Johnnie-” you whined, your back arching. Your body shaking from your orgasm, sent him completely over the edge.

Hit ropes of cum splattered inside you as he fucked you through his own orgasm. Your breath slowly returned back to your body as you saw Johnnie cleaning your body up with a damp towel.

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly, tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He misses but he just took his girlfriend's virginity so he isn't particularly worried about where it landed. “Yeah I'm fucking great right now actually,” you murmured.

He giggles pulling his clothes back on. You did the same, pulling out your phone to see your makeup completely fucked. Your eyeliner and mascara dripped down, the sweat sucking your makeup into your skin, your lipstick beyond fucked.

You pulled out your phone and snapped one last photo for your Instagram

#johnnie guilbert angst #johnnie x you #jake and johnnie #johnnie x reader #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x goth!reader

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fruittt-punchhh · 7 months ago

Text

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader. Geto x reader a little bit, kinda not really. Nobara x reader (kissin’ n stuff)

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), jealousy, Nobara and reader kiss and stuff, sending nudes (if that makes you uncomfortable just scroll through!), public sex if you squint really hard.

TW: karaoke lmao

Word count: 7.5k (ur welcome)

Notes: why hello again cuties!🫶😭thank you for all the support. Please enjoy this part! Next part is currently in the works so it’ll be up soon-ish. As always, let me know what you think! much love, fruit punch🧃

You awake in the morning to an empty house. Toji must still be working, and your dad and brother were packing to leave already. You stretch and yawn as you place your feet on the floor, hips still aching from the rough treatment from Toji last night. You put on your house shoes as you shuffle into the living room.

“Hey, y/n! Thought you’d up and died in there, haha,” your dad says, reaching to give you a hug.

You three discuss the fishing trip, school, and your dads next big project at work. You woke up pretty late, so they were almost out the door by the time you caught them. You all exchanged goodbyes and I love you’s before you head back to your room.

You decide to clean up the mess that you had made last night, throwing your sheets in the wash along with your bikini. You try to distract yourself from the thoughts that flood your mind. You turn up the music playing in the speaker as you decide to tidy the rest of the house. You knew you’d have a busy night ahead of you, and you definitely wanted to come home to a clean house.

————————————————————————

You finished the rest of your drink as you started to curl your hair. You had previously planned to go to the club with some college friends that lived in the area. It was Saturday night, and after your experience with Toji last night, you knew you needed to get fucked up. With no new texts from him since yesterday, you figured it’d be best to forget it ever happened and just try to get laid tonight if you could manage. You swiped left to delete the messages, hoping your drink hits your system quickly.

Everything with Toji was perfect- thinking about it for longer than you had to was making you sweat. But you couldn’t help the nagging feeling of guilt deep in your core. It would crush your dad to find out that you were into older men, especially when those older men were very close to him. Plus, you and Toji were in two totally different phases of your life. You had plans to go to graduate school and well, he just sat around and drank and when he wasn’t drinking he was at work doing god knows what. You still had no insight as to what his profession was (if you can even call it that), but you knew he made enough to go out to clubs, bars, and casinos most nights of the week.

You knew Toji had a gambling problem from your father, but he made it seem like he had plenty of money to spare. Toji didn’t seem like he was rich by any means, always wearing the same cycle of workout clothes, jeans, and sweats. You don’t recall ever seeing him dressed up.

As you finish the last few curls in your hair, you run to your dresser looking for the package Toji left there yesterday. It had a fishnet bra, panties, and stockings. You really just wanted the stockings to go with your black skirt and black bra combo, but the full set was ridiculously on sale. You just had to get it. It hugged your figure in all the right ways and made you feel, for once, really fucking sexy.

You had no intentions of leaving the club without someone with you, so you decide to take a tasteful nude just in case you want to use it as a bargaining chip later. You continue with the rest of your outfit, opting for black platform boots instead of your regular stilettos. All that was left was your makeup, a shot or two, and you were good to go.

You finish the last coat of your mascara, and as you wait for your lash glue to dry, you order the Uber. Your dad had to return to work back in the states, and your brother went back to campus early. It was just you in the house. You decided to blast your music, dancing as you await your ride. You looked pretty damn good and you were ready to get laid, or at least find someone to dance with at the minimum.

————————————————————————

You walk into the club — the music was so loud you felt the bass in your heart and your ears were rattling. The DJ was doing a great job, and you knew just the thing to get you back into the dancing mood.

“Who wants shooooots?” You yell to your girlfriends, and a few random patrons at the bar. You order shots for everyone, including two for yourself. The liquor burned on the way down but you knew in just a few minutes you wouldn’t have a care in the world.

You finish your other drink as your friend convinces you to join her on the dance floor. You two take turns guessing how big everyones dick is, far too drunk to care who can hear you.

“Oh his is definitely bigger than average and he looks like he knows what to do with it,” your friend Nobara giggles, blushing as she covers her mouth. She points to a tall, pink haired man behind you, with little scars near his eyes.

“Ohmygod! Okay, n-nobara you’re literally so right bitch,” normally Nobara would never let you address her as that, but you were all too fucked to care. Your other friend mentions that the tall black haired man with the plugs looks like he’s hung, to which you agree. They dare you to go get his number, and you wouldn’t mind finding out if your speculations were true.

“Hi, I’m y/n, -sorry, s-so loud in here, hah” you yell, grabbing onto his sleeve for support.

“It’s okay pretty, I’m Geto. Nice to meet you,” he says in your ear, making shivers run down your spine. You knew he was hot but you didn’t expect his voice to turn you on that much.

Feeling all confidence being thrown out the window, you ask him, “my friends dared me to get your number and you are really cute. You can give me a fake one if you want!” You beam up at him. He was quite excited to exchange information. His phone was on a charger somewhere, so he puts his number in your phone.

“Ohmygod, you got it?!” They scream. With happy giggles they order another round of drinks for themselves and a shot for you, to congratulate you on your stunning victory.

At this point, your vision was hazy and you were far too sweaty for your own good. The DJ had started playing some of Charli XCX’s new album ‘brat’, the title of which you felt was a very applicable name for yourself.

“Holy shit-“ your other friend starts.

“S’up?” You yell.

“I know we stopped playing a while ago, but he looks like he’s got the biggest dick of them all”

You turn. Trying your damndest to keep your balance, you look towards the entrance to see none other than Mr. Fushiguro.

You knew you were fucked. He had left you on read and you hadn’t seen him since. You were confused about the relationship between you two, especially since you were back to university in a few days. You pray to god that he doesn’t notice you and turn back around, trying to shuffle more towards the middle of the dance floor. You mutter a halfhearted ‘yeah’ to your friend before you spin her around and start dancing to the next song.

Geto appears behind you and he grabs on to your waist, asking if he could dance with you and your friends. You yell back an ‘of course!’ as you all start jumping to the music.

He walked in the bar, looking to occupy his favorite seat for most of the night. He came here after he was done at the casino, usually to get a couple drinks, listen to music, and maybe get his dick sucked in the bathroom if he was lucky. He had been feeling much too antisocial lately, opting to drown his sorrows in another drink instead of another woman.

He looks through the crowd as he sees someone he never expected to go on stage.

The song comes to an end as the dj yells ‘karaoke anyone?!’ You had just finished yet another shot Geto bought for you as your friends are pushing you to the stage. You try to plant your feet flat on the floor to no avail as your balance was questionable at best. Before you know it you’re on stage, grabbing the microphone, looking out at the crowd and seeing nothing but blurry faces.

You tell the dj to play the song ‘Guess’ by Charli, just to keep the vibes going. You hear the beat come in as you start to dance on stage, currently unaffected by the hundreds of eyes planted on you and your movements. You were a shitty singer so thankfully, this song was more talking than anything.

‘You wanna guess the color of my underwear.’

‘You wanna know what I got going on down there.’

You chant as you hear your friends screaming in the crowd for you.

‘Is it pretty in pink or all see-through?’

‘Is it showin’ off my brand new lower back tattoo?’

You spin around, lowering your skirt just a hair to reveal the little heart tattoo you have on your lower back. It definitely wasn’t a new tattoo by any means, but it fit the song nonetheless. You spin around, seeing Nobara shout for you near the front.

To your surprise, you also see an all too familiar face approach the front of the stage. Toji looks up at you and you swear you see him sweating. He has a cigarette in between his lips and a drink in hand, not even dancing to the music. He was too entranced by your presence on the stage to think about anything other than you.

‘You wanna put ‘em in your mouth, pull ‘em all down south.’

‘You wanna turn this shit out, that’s what I’m talkin’ about’

You failed to pull your skirt back up from earlier, leaving little to the imagination as your fish net panties peek through the top of your skirt. You feel the beat drop as the hook comes in, charli’s voice saying the words for you this time around as you continue to dance. You sway your hips and the crowd is going wild for you. You know the beat drop is coming so you start to jump. You repeat the chorus from earlier, dancing as slutty as you can for the man in front of you. Your tits were bouncing as you jumped and you had to put your hand on top of them to keep them from escaping.

The bridge is coming as you drop to your hands and knees, crawling towards the black-haired man in front of you. He takes a final puff of his cigarette before he’s putting it in between your lips with a smirk. He takes a drink as you take a puff, blowing out the bitter smoke as you continue.

‘Guess.’

The crowd goes wild as you see everyone, excluding Toji, jumping up and down to the beat. He has a thumb tucked into his belt as he bites his bottom lip, eyeing your figure up and down. You and the crowd chant to the bridge.

“Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess.”

You finish your little dance as the outro plays. The part you had to sing was practically over, so you head to the stairs on the side of the stage.

You meet back up with your friends and they are all but losing their shit.

‘Y/n that was so fuckin’ good!’

‘Okay girl who knew you had it in you??’

‘I’m deeeeeead, you looked so fucking hot up there!!’

You fan your audience away, telling them ‘please, no paparazzi’

You feel Geto come up behind you as he congratulates you, telling you your performance was amazing. You thank him with a smile as he goes to find his friends in the crowd.

Toji must have missed you when you rejoined the crowd because he was no where to be seen. At this point, you’ve had so many drinks you can’t count. You feel a buzz in your pocket from an unknown number.

You assume it must be Geto. You search the crowd for him, spotting him in the back. You shoot him a smile as he does the same.

You remembered the picture from earlier, hoping this might signal him to take you out of here.

The nickname rings an all too familiar bell as you try to forget the ache in your stomach. You send him the picture with a heart emoji. You search for Geto again, hoping to see his reaction. You catch his eyes again as he turns around, continuing to dance with his friends. Odd. But not out of the ordinary.

Whoa. It must have worked. You anxiously await the clock as you dance to the last song of the album.

You start to push yourself through the crowd as you head towards the bathroom. You see Geto to your left, and he hasn’t moved-only greeting you with a smile and a sloppy wave. Weird. Maybe he was just waiting for you to see if you were down? Who knows, you think, as you finally make it to the bathroom.

It’s dimly lit with only red LEDS along the ceiling. It’s a family bathroom (in a club yeah right) so the door (thankfully) has a lock. You put your back against the wall as you wait for geto.

You continue to bob your head to the music as the door opens. Before you can turn your head to greet him, you are slammed against the wall with a hand up your shirt. That’s when the all too familiar scent of pine and liquor hit your nose.

“Toji?!”

You find it hard to push him away as he is grabbing every inch of your body, so possessively and full of want. He grunts in your ear as you hug him back, scratching down his back underneath his slutty white tee.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, doll. Getting up on stage, dancing like a fuckin’ stripper in front of everyone. You were makin’ me lose my mind.”

You feel so embarrassed, knowing that toji was witness to the whole performance.

“And you really think you’re slick, huh? Sending me pictures like that and thinkin’ I won’t fuck you right here in front of everybody on the bathroom floor.”

Sending pictures? Oh shit. There’s no way, I mean it had to be Geto. You didn’t recognize the area code and there were no previous messages. But that would explain his distant behavior earlier.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought I-I was sending them to some-someone else.”

“Yeah I know you did you slut. These tits and this pussy are just for me, ya’ got it? Thought you woulda’ learned that by now, seein’ as I made you squirt all over me yesterday.”

You face burns as he rubs you through your fishnet panties. You whine underneath him, desperately holding onto his arm for stability.

“I’m sorry, T-Toji. I can take some mo-more for you if ya want”

“Oh there’s no ifs. You’re going to.”

Toji crouches down and suddenly has you in the air above him. Your back is still to the wall as he lifts your right leg up, bringing your wet cunt level with his face. He throws your leg over his shoulder and scoots your left leg out, making you spread yourself in front of him once again.

He wastes no time devouring you through your panties and he doesn’t even give you the decency of pulling them to the side. He slides his tongue through the holes of your panties, drawing out cry after cry from you. All the liquor has made you too horny for your own good as your orgasm fast approaches. You thread both hands in his hair as you pull him close to you, desperate to cum.

“T-Toji, fuck, m-cumming”

He pulls off of you and drops your leg down onto the floor. Did he really just edge you?

He’s pulling your panties down your plush thighs and shoves them into his pocket. You think he’s going to finally have his way with you, until he starts standing up.

“I’m keeping these. You know better than to wear something so slutty in front of me and not expect me to devour you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, knowing he liked your outfit and everything you had on underneath. He kissed your cheek as he pulls back to whisper in your ear.

“Good girls get to cum, but you haven’t been that good have ya’? That’s for tryin’ t’show those pretty tits to some other bitch. Just know the only reason I’m not fucking you right here right now is because I wouldn’t want to pop your cherry in the club bathroom. You’re a slut, but you’re not a whore,” he says, giving your ass a hard slap as you yelp.

“Now get the fuck outta here. I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave, yeah?” He says as he turns you around and pushes you out the door. You’ve barely maintained your balance as you’re shuffling out the door as you hear it close and lock behind you.

Toji shuts the door and locks it and immediately has his pants around his ankles. Seeing you up on stage, showing everyone your tattoo that he had never managed to see, while you sway your hips directly in front of him. He saw the fishnets peeking out of your skirt and your top and he knew he had to see what you had on underneath, just as the song implied.

He decided to text you instead of approaching just in case you wanted nothing to do with him. You responded quickly, obviously very drunk, and sent him a picture that nearly had him poking someone’s eye out with his raging hard-on. He had to taste you, even if just for a moment.

His hands are working on his length furiously. He brings your panties up to his big nose, smelling them with a grunt. Covered in perfume, sweat, and your wetness. He spits on them, bringing them down to his hard cock.

He doesn’t want you to leave without him, and he’s scared you’ll go find the younger, raven-haired man to accompany you instead of him. He runs his hand over his slit, rubbing his precum all over the tip. He’s coming closer to his orgasm as he rubs your panties up and down his length. He pulls out the picture you sent him earlier before he’s accidentally cumming all over his phone screen, paying tribute to your slutty thighs and big tits as best he can. He washes his phone off and buttons his pants before he’s back on the dance floor.

You were pretty short, so Toji had a hard time locating you. He was about to ask the bartender if he’d seen you, when he catches you traipsing out the front door with a couple of friends. Were you leaving?? Surely not after the interaction you two just had.

Had he really just edged you?? In the club bathroom nonetheless. You needed a smoke break and a break in general from the flashing lights and loud music. You take Nobara and another friend outside as you pull out the joint from behind your ear. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smoke tonight, but the adrenaline rush from being on stage on top of the feeling Toji left you with was enough to seal the deal.

Toji heads towards the door, hoping to catch you and offer you a ride home before you’re gone. He had only a few drinks and would be sober enough in no time. He grabs your arm as he sees you light up your joint.

“Where d’ya think you’re going, huh?” He whispers in your ear as he pulls you close to him by your waist.

You take a deep breath, letting the harsh smoke enter your lungs and praying it will fix all of your problems. You felt a large hand on your arm, thinking it might be a security guard ready to chastise you for smoking so close to the entrance. Until that hand becomes two hands on your waist and you feel an all too familiar length being pushed into the softness of your ass. Toji had really followed you out here. Did he think you were leaving or something?

“N-nowhere, I just needed a smoke after-“

“After what?”

“Uhm, the song, that’s all,” you say, blushing as he takes the joint from your hand. You look at him surprised, not expecting the old man to be okay with smoking weed. He takes a long puff as he brings his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your nose and mouth as you kiss him back with fervor.

“Um hello? I’m right here lovebirds,” you hear Nobara say to your left.

“Jesus, s-sorry Nobara”

You pull away from Toji and you let him keep the blunt.

“Why don’t ya’ lemme’ have this? Wouldn’t want ya’ killing all your brain cells before your last semester, right? I’ll get you some more drinks when we go inside,” Toji murmurs in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Are you gonna’ introduce me to your friend here or are you two just going to fuck in the street?”

Nobara says, snapping you out of your trance for the second time that night.

“S-sorry, this is… T-Toji, the one I was telling you about,” you say as Nobara’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“This is Toji? Like the Toji?” You wish Nobara wouldn’t lay it on so thick, as if you hadn’t spent all day on the phone telling her every detail about your escapades.

“Yeah, that Toji. I’m her dad’s best friend, isn’t that right hun?”

If you thought Nobara’s eyes couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. She somehow hadn’t put two and two together that the Toji you were fucking was also the Mr. Fushiguro that your father was friends with.

“Ohhhhhhh. Ohhhh, okayyyyy. Everything is connecting now, haha. I think I might head back inside and leave you two to it. Come find me when you get back inside y/n”

“Of course, we’ll be back in just a second! You still owe me a dance,” you can barely get the words out before Nobara is closing the door and Toji is turning you around.

“Let’s sit, yeah? I’m sure you’re exhausted from shaking your ass for everyone.”

Toji pulls out a chair only for himself as he watches you sit across from him.

“Silly girl, your seat’s right here,” he says looking into your eyes as he pats his lap. You regrettably get back up and go to sit on his lap, knowing that your lack of panties would not help your arousal. You sit down and immediately feel a large rod underneath you, lined up with your cunt so perfectly, you could sit here forever.

“That’s right, good girl. Now try not to make a big mess on me, okay? These are my good pants and according to you we’ve still got some dancin’ to do,” Toji says with a smirk. He’s finished nearly half the joint now, and you can tell his high has definitely hit him. His eyes are two lines as you attempt to make eye contact with him.

“Somebody’s hiiiiiiiiigh,” you say in a singsong voice, giggling at him as you do so. He keeps puffing until you feel him shaking underneath you. You look back to see Toji giggling too. Scratch that, he was full on laughing. He was slapping his knee and everything like some old fogey. He couldn’t put the joint down now, not while there was so little left. But you were right in your assumption. Toji rarely smoked, preferring to drink when he got off work. Yet here he was, toking on the weed like it was a cigarette and he felt like he might have fucked up. He wanted to think of something sly to say back to you, but his mind was empty except for thoughts of you, as always.

“Hell yeah I’m high,” he says, giggling like a little school girl. “Wanna get back inside? I still never rewarded you for your stellar performance earlier.” Curious as to what reward he had in mind, you stand up and grab his hand. The two of you walk back inside as he leads you to the bar.

“Let me get a vodka cran’ for my lady, please”

Your lady? You were loving this special treatment, wanting to bask in it all night long. He hands you your drink as you chug it, not wanting to waste one of your hands holding a drink when it could be on Toji’s body. You two make it back to the dance floor and you find Nobara talking to a tall, fit woman with a long white braid on her shoulder. The braid was hanging in her face and you wondered if she could even see walking around in a dark night club like that.

“Ohmygod, Toji?!” She exclaims, running up to him to hug him, nearly pushing you over out of excitement. You don’t know why, but seeing him hug her back sent you fuming. You felt as if everyone could see the smoke coming out of your ears. You knew Toji wasn’t your boyfriend or whatever, but you still had some sort of feelings for him, even if they were only rooted in lust.

“Mei, h-hey, how’ve you been? It’s been a while!”

You’d never seen Toji say anything exclamatory in his life, except for when he was laying with you. You watch the two of them catch up as you grab Nobara by the hand and walk away.

“Are we leaving?! I found this cute girl and I was just about to go talk to her!” You assure her that while you weren’t leaving, you had a new mission: make Toji jealous.

Nobara suggested you go grind on Geto, which seemed like an excellent idea, if you weren’t scared for what Toji would do with him if he saw you. Besides, he was absolutely no where to be found. You checked your phone to see a missed message from him.

‘Hey, y/n, it was super nice to meet you! Had to go home, and you looked pretty occupied with your friend in the white shirt, so I didn’t wanna bother you. I’d love to get coffee sometime! x’

Jesus, you were such an asshole. You text him back, letting him know you were too fucked up to come up with a coherent response and that you would say something back that actually made sense tomorrow. You let Nobara know the bad news, but she is quick to come up with another plan.

“You definitely don’t have to, but you could grind on me if you want… or kiss me. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, you know I’m always down to help out a friend,” Nobara stammers as you watch a faint blush creep up her cheeks.

“Oh, Nobara, don’t be embarrassed. I’d love to. I’ve always thought you were cute, but you’re too good of a best friend to try and date I think,” you admit. You definitely found yourself looking at Nobara’s curves all too often when you were at the gym together.

“No, I totally agree! I mean you’re hot as fuck, but if we broke up someday I don’t think I’d be able to look at you ever again,” she says, inching closer towards you.

You wrap your hands around her waist, bringing her even closer to you.

“Soooooo……”

“Sooooooooooooo….”

You both say, trying not to make this mission any awkward than it already was. You hear the next song come on and the beat was shaking the floor. You take this as a sign to step even closer to Nobara as you put your lips on hers.

You two were moving with the music and the bodies in the crowd, as you run your fingers through your hair. You two were full on making out now, laughing in between breaths as you try your hardest not to take Nobara home instead of Toji. You didn’t really care if Toji noticed or not since you were having the most fun you’ve had all night wrapped up with Nobara in this way.

She sucks on your lip, pulling away to ask if she can touch your butt.

“Nobara you touch my butt all the time,” you say, giggling, looking up at her puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, but this is different. You can totally say n-“

You grab Nobara’s hands and reach them behind you as she grabs a handful of you under your skirt. You kiss her back as her eyes are wide open. You continue this for a while, switching places with her as you grab on her body, not wanting the moment to end.

Toji tells Mei he’ll see her later as he goes to close his tab. He had already spent far too much for his liking, and you were way too drunk to have anything else tonight. The drink he got you earlier was just straight cranberry juice, little did you know. He thanks the bartender as he puts his card back in his wallet, turning around as he felt the wind get knocked out of him.

He saw you in the crowd, tongue shoved down some red head’s throat. She was grabbing your ass as you knead her tit, giggling as you two whisper to each other.

Nobara just admitted you may actually have the biggest dick at the party, to which you can’t help but giggle. Being edged earlier made you feel all too eager for things to move further as you hear someone’s throat clearing to your right.

You pull away from Nobara and look beside you to see Toji sitting on a bar stool, a cigarette trapped between his teeth as he grabs both of his legs, trying to keep himself from standing up.

“Havin’ fun?” He says with a glint in his eyes. Not to be a perverted boy, but he could watch you do this for hours. The way you had your friend melting under your touch, gasping for more than just a kiss as you teased her for the sole purpose of making him jealous.

Nobara looks at you with a grin on her face. She leans in for another peck, as she turns away, “Looks like it worked. That was fun, we should try it again sometime. I think I might call an Uber. Getting late,” she says, yawning. She seems totally unfazed, as if you two weren’t just swapping spit for the last few minutes.

“I can ride with you!” You say before she’s interrupting you, telling you to stay with your man. You wouldn’t exactly call him that, but one thing you never did was start an argument with Nobara.

She mouths to you, “let me know if he’s good or not,” winking as she heads for the door.

“Who’s that little redhead? I like her, seems feisty. I like ‘em with a lil’ bit of attitude,” he says, smirking as he puts out his cigarette. He stands up, having had enough of his private show.

“Her name’s Nobara and she’s my friend. Who the fuck was that girl with the braid?”

“Seemed like more than just a friend, your tongue in her mouth and all.” Toji tried so hard to not let on that while he was extremely turned on by the sight, he was also entirely too jealous for his liking. Jealous was not an emotion he frequented. If he even though he might get jealous, he moved on to the next bitch that was fawning over him. But here he was, seeing red as he awaits your response.

“She is just a friend. But you still didn’t answer my question, ya’know.”

“Her name’s Mei. Old coworker. Haven’t seen her in years and last I heard, she was missing. You’ve never been excited to see an old friend?”

Oh. You thought she was definitely an ex-lover, given their tight embrace. Toji didn’t come off as the touchy type, so watching him hug her back so eagerly made you livid.

“No I have, but you look like you wanted to fuck her, I mean what is your-“

“Doll, if I wanted to fuck her I already would have. I’ve only got eyes for one person right now, if ya’ couldn’t tell.”

You walk towards him, hands clasped in front of you as you ask who this person might be.

“Probably the girl I just jacked off to in the bathroom, I think. She sent me this slutty picture and I came all over my phone as soon as I pulled up the pic,” he says, grabbing you by your hand.

Had he really cum to that picture? You didn’t think you looked all that hot, and knowing Toji, you figured he needed to watch a thirty minute gangbang video in order to get his nut off.

“Wooowwww. I mean even I need a video to cum, but you’re over here cumming to a picture? Pathetic.”

You had no idea what you just said. He yanks your hand as he quickly makes his way towards the exit.

“T-Toji I’m joking, please s-slow down! Where are we going??”

He doesn’t answer as he drags you along the street. You figured you’d get an Uber in case Toji was just being dramatic, but he snatches the phone out of your hand before you can even unlock it.

“Don’t want’ya sending any more pictures tonight little girl. We’re going to mine, pick up the pace before I carry you,” he finally says. You tried your hardest to keep up with the large man in front of you, but his stride was so big. You had short legs and you were ridiculously drunk. You try your hardest to plant your feet, forcing him to turn around. It had started sprinkling at this point, and you raise your hands above your head to keep the rain from ruining your pretty face of makeup.

“Toji, you’re too fucking fast. And you don’t have to hold my hand, you-“

Toji has had enough. The rain was picking up and like he said, these were his good pants that he did not feel like dry cleaning.

You watch Toji get into a stance as if he’s about to tackle you, picking you up under your butt and throwing you over his shoulder like a rag doll. He holds the back of your knees with his large hand as he starts to walk towards his apartment. He kept an apartment downtown due to how often he was out at the casino too late in the night to spend $50 dollars on an Uber back to the condo.

You don’t even care to protest as you’d rather have the rain hitting your back anyways. It was cool to the touch and you didn’t really mind letting this man have his way with you. You did want to play fight with him, lightly hitting his butt as you let out, ”nooooo, please don’t take me and do whatever you want to me sir”

He responds only by giving your ass a light smack before he kisses it. You couldn’t help but call him a pervert, and the sound of that word leaving your lips had him rock hard again. He was a pervert to an extent, but only for you.

———————————————————————

He plops you down at the front of his door, motioning for you to go inside after he unlocks it. You stumble in, reaching for the light switch, flicking it on as you hear Toji hiss behind you. He fumbles for the switch, turning it back off quickly.

“Too fuckin’ bright, Jesus”

He grabs your hand and walks you to the bathroom. His apartment was clean, and pretty cozy. He didn’t stay here often, so you noticed the dust covering most of his appliances. You turn on the bathroom light and turn around to ask him what his plans were for you.

“My plans? Get this makeup off and get in the bed,” he says, fumbling through the shelves to find a washcloth. You cross your arms and pout as you grab his arm.

“But Toji I want it. Want you, please”

He grabs a new bar of soap from underneath the sink and turns the warm water on, giving it a moment to heat up. He puts his hand on the counter and gives you a stern look.

“Look, y/n. You couldn’t possibly understand how bad I want you, too. But you’re too drunk and I’m the highest I’ve been in a while. Last time I checked, you were still a virgin. Doesn’t mean I plan on going easy on ya’, but we need to wait.”

You continue to pout, poking your bottom lip out. Maybe you can convince him with your mouth, and not your words. You reach for his belt buckle as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He kisses you back, hesitantly at first. You moan into the kiss, unable to control yourself. As soon as that first moan leaves your lips, he’s pulling away so he can run his hands under the warm water, adjusting the temperature so it’s not too hot.

He brings his wet hands to your face, making sure to cover every inch of your skin so this process wouldn’t take any longer than it already has.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t be able to stop myself. Shut up and lemme help you, then we’ll get in the bed. I can sleep on the couch if ya’ want”

You couldn’t seem to take no for an answer, as you let out the most earth-shattering, loud moan you can muster. Your mouth is stuck in an ‘o’ shape as you moan Toji’s name, trying to see how far you could push the man.

Hearing that from your mouth made him feel like his cock would explode. He puts a hand over your mouth and pushes you against the wall, making your head hit the wall a little too hard for your liking.

“Have ya’ lost your fuckin’ mind? I have neighbors ya’know? I already told you no, and if you can’t take that as an answer, you’re gonna be the one sleepin’ on the couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes as he removes his hand from your mouth. He kisses the top of your head, muttering an apology for hitting your head on the wall. He grabs the soap, letting it run under the water before he lathers it up in his hands.

He brings his hands to your face and starts washing your face for you as if you were inept.

“I can wash my own damn face, Toji”

He laughs at you, still very high from the joint he stole earlier.

“Yeah, not before you poke out your own eye with those nails. Just lemme’ take care of ya’ then we’ll get in bed.”

You huff as you let him continue. You enjoyed seeing a more gentle, domestic side of him. Albeit in odd circumstances, it was still an unexpected surprise. He tells you to rinse your face off and gives you the washcloth to dry your face.

“Just throw the lashes away, I’ll get ya’ some new ones tomorrow.”

“What, these old things? They’re all natural,” you say with a fake accent. He simply reaches up and takes the pair of lashes off, dropping them in the trash.

“How do you know to do this shit anyways? Lots of experience?”

He glares at you as if you just asked if the sky is blue.

“I wash my own face woman. Makeup is just another layer of shit to wash off.”

You somehow find yourself agreeing with him as you finish wiping the water off of your neck. You start to take off your jewelry as you watch him pull his pants down as he whips out his cock.

Well, you don’t know if you should call it that, given that he was almost entirely soft now. He flips the lid of the toilet up, taking care of his bladder right in front of you. You look him up and down with questioning eyes.

“Ewww, you could have waited!”

“You’re the one starin’, doll. Look who’s the pervert now,” he says, cleaning himself off and only pulling up his boxers. “Let’s get in bed,” he says, leading you by your lower back to his bedroom.

He’s taking off the rest of his clothes on the way, leaving them scattered in the hallway. You wanted him taking those clothes off in other circumstances, but you follow his lead, taking everything off except your bra (since someone still had your panties).

“Whoa, gotta let me know when you’re getting undressed next time. Got me sweatin’ over here,” he says, trying to think of his most annoying coworkers to help his chub go down.

“You think m’sleepin’ in this? Pssshh-,” you say, laughing as you try to unclasp your bra. Your nails were too long and it was only making it more difficult.

“Here,” he starts, making his way behind you to help you take it off. He tries his best to avert his eyes, somehow feeling guilty for admiring you when you two were supposed to be strictly going to bed right now.

“I know we’re not fuckin’ tonight, but you are so goddamn perfect f’me,” he admits, letting out a breath as he watches you walk ahead of him, hips swaying so tantalizingly back and forth. Hair cascading down your pretty back. Tits so big he could see their outline from the back. He clears his throat, mentally cursing himself for jacking off earlier. If he would have just let it go down, he’d probably be fine right now. But cumming to that picture and thinking about cumming on those tits forreal had him feeling like a creep.

You wait for Toji to join you near the bed. You don’t want to overstep and you didn’t know what side of the bed he slept on. He asks what you’re waiting for, and when he hears you mumble ‘you’, he smiles so bright. You’re both totally naked now as you climb under the sheets, shivering at the cool linen brushing against your warm body. Toji sat across from you, not touching you anywhere.

“Ya’know, seeing you makeout with that girl was hot n’all, but you really pissed me off doing that.”

Pissed him off? That was not your goal at all.

“What, w-why? I was jus’ tryin’ to make you jealous is all,” you admit.

“Yeah, well it fuckin’ worked. Don’t do that shit in front of me again unless you want to see me go to prison.”

Oh. He was really serious. You could only imagine what he’d do if he saw you grinding in Geto’s lap. Thank god for Nobara.

You scoot towards him, “M’sorry, I won’t do it again, promise. Now can we cuddle please? So cold, baby,” you huff. He wraps his arms around you as you bury your head in his chest, entwining your legs with his.

“You’re lucky. Don’t do this with just anybody. And it’s takin’ all my strength not to bend you over and break you right now. Only reason I’m not makin’ you cum right now s’cuz I wanna’ give you a break before tomorrow.”

You mumble an ‘awwww’ as he tells you to shut up and go to sleep. You thank him for the second night in a row, only earning a ‘mmmhm’ from the man beside you. He’s already drifting off to sleep, exhausted from the night of work before and the long night he’s spent with you. You shut your eyes, trying to steady yourself as you feel the room spinning around you. You take a few deep breaths and finally fall asleep, knowing you needed all the rest you could get for the day you had ahead of you.

@scorpiosugar @theobsidianempress mwahahah

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foreingersgod · 9 months ago

Note

I love love love your writing! I was wondering if you could write something about cc dating a pop star, very much chappel roan vibes

y’all must be reading my mind! this is perfect!

Red Wine Supernova . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you’re an upcoming queer pop star who just happens to be dating the hottest player in the wnba (set slightly in the future just for the sake of plot!)

it was off season for caitlin and she was so relieved to have time off from practices and games for a while. she had now devoted all her attention to you, hardly leaving your side these past few weeks. you, on the other hand, were just starting your debut tour. a small one, only a handful of destinations, but incredibly important (and sold out) nonetheless.

yes, caitlin had heard you sing, several times in fact. but she’d been too busy with everything that she had yet to see you perform live, outside of your home studio when it was just the two of you. so when she told you that she wanted to tag along with you for the entirety of your tour, you were practically beaming with excitement.

you had worked really hard on this album and you were thrilled to finally be able to perform it to your growing fan base. you loved performing in the bustling bars of your hometown and the stadiums in surrounding cities, but you’ve always known you were meant for bigger and better things; you wanted to travel the nation and share your songs with so many different people. you were even more excited, though, to have caitlin see you up on stage. something more than just a karaoke stage in a dingy bar with just your guitar and the intensity of your voice. no matter where you sang, caitlin still made it her mission to tell you how amazing you were and how she couldn’t wait to see how much of an amazing star you were turning out to be.

“wow, just…wow” caitlin said, speechless, when she walked into your dressing room for your first show in Chicago.

you, with the help of your entire team and manager, had just got into costume. a purple leotard that dazzled with thousands of hand placed gems. pink fishnets, white go go boots, a matching purple cowboy hat, and a dozen other miscellaneous accessories to pull together the outfit.

you looked up, still trying to pull your leotard into a comfortable position, when you heard her walk in. “hey, i was gonna meet you outside! everything ok?”

“yea no we’re all good,” she looked up and down, lips slightly parted “i just couldn’t wait to see you”

“well i’m glad you came, like the outfit?” your assistants stepped away, sliding past caitlin at the door to give you both some privacy before the show, as you gave caitlin a full twirl of the outfit.

“i love it, you look beautiful, people won’t be able to take their eyes off of you” she said “and if we’re being honest…i can’t wait to take this off of you tonight”

you felt your face heat up underneath your show makeup. “a bit cheeky tonight, i see”

“well when you look so good all the time, how could i not be” she grinned, pulling you into her chest and hugging you deeply before stage management gave you a 3 minute warning. “you’re going to do so good, i’ll be watching!”

“i’ll find you in the crowd, don’t worry” a quick peck on the lips and you were being escorted to the wings of the stage before you knew it.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

“HELLOOOOOO, CHICAGO!!” you cheered into the mic, waving to fans and hyping up the crowd “i’m so happy to perform for ya’ll tonight, this has been an absolute dream of mine”

you gave the classic introduction speech: getting the crowd warmed up, announcing the songs, teaching them the dances that went along with each song. it was cliche, for sure, but you loved it. it felt like you were meant to do this your whole life. once you got rolling, getting comfortable on the stage, the feeling only got better. this was truly a dream come true.

you performed your most popular songs, along with a few of your more lesser known ones, and had the time of your life watching all of your fans sing along to something you had written. you spotted caitlin a few times through the show, watching her sing along too and cheer your name, and it made you incredibly happy to see her support you.

“alright guys, this next one’s a song i’ve been keeping from you for quite some time” the crowd whispered to each other in anticipation “but i think tonight…y’all have earned it” cheers erupted from the audience.

“i wrote thing song a while back, when i met a certain…someone…” you grinned, purposefully avoiding eye contact with your girlfriend “and i fell head over heels for her the second i saw her…so without further ado…here’s RED WINE SUPERNOVA!”

your band started playing and the audience was already dancing and cheering. you were incredibly nervous to perform a new song, and little embarrassed knowing that caitlin was going to finally here a song you wrote about her from months and months ago. but the moment you sung into the microphone, you knew she was going to love it.

through out the song, you gave quick glances over to caitlin, trying not to be obvious while wanting to see if she was enjoying it or not. but you were struggling to find her this time with the change in set lighting.

then suddenly you found her, your eyes meeting, and you instantly noticed the goofy grin plastered on her face as she watched you sing about her. still making eye contact, you continued to sing:

Well, back at my house

I got a California king

you walked over to the end of the stage, with eyes still locked.

Okay, maybe it's a twin bed

And some roommates (don't worry we're cool)

you watched her laugh as she caught on to your inside joke.

I heard you like magic

I got a wand and a rabbit

you pointed out to her and she ran her hands over her blushing face in playful embarrassment.

So baby, let's get freaky, get kinky

Let's make this bed get squeaky!

you blew a final kiss to her, the crowd interpreting it as a cute part of your routine, but she knew you had meant it just for her.

you danced around stage for the remainder of your song, kneeling down time to time to hold your fans hand and letting them sing along with you. when your set ended, you bowed to the crowd and said your finally goodbyes and thank you’s, then quickly running off stage and into your dressing room.

after catching your breathe, you started to take off your makeup and costume, again with the help of your team. caitlin had texted you shortly after that she’d meet you outside the venue so that you could have a little time to talk with your team.

once dressed in a fresh tshirt and jeans, face washed and hair tamed, you grabbed your bags and headed out to find your girlfriend. you found her waiting right outside the venue entrance where she was leaning against a post and checking her phone. she looked up almost instantly upon hearing you call her name and hearing your footsteps against the pavement.

“hey superstar!” she ran over to you, you dropped your bags to the ground as you threw your arms around the back of her neck “you fucking killed it!”

“thanks, cait” you pulled away, smashing your lips into hers feverishly “ d’you like the new song?” you muttered against her lips.

“oh i loved it” she kissed you again “you know…suddenly i’m really into magic”

“is that so?”

“definitely, and i think i got a few tricks to show you back at the hotel, how does that sound?” she cradled your jaw, nipping at your bottom lip. you tried your hardest to suppress a moan.

“take me home, clark”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #chappell roan

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bugs1nmybrain · 9 months ago

Text

Shigaraki With a Crush on Fem!Reader

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

Notes/Warnings: 18+ themes but no smut, Fem-Reader, White-Haired Shigaraki w/ Long hair (he's 21 in this fic), alcohol use but no one gets drunk, other members of the League make an appearance, Shigaraki is pervy, they play League of Legends cuz I'm just as much of a loser as Shigaraki, story has TWO PARTS in one fic, fluff, not proofread

i will not stop babygirlifying Shigaraki YOU CAN'T STOP ME

Notes about reader: quiet-type, wears flashy alternative clothes and makeup, nerdy (artist, gamer, loves anime & manga), neurodivergent

The PLF was staffed with a multitude of skilled folks, all of different positions. There were those on the front causing trouble, like most of the League. Some people held side-line positions, which is where you come in. You worked as a research, statistic, and data analyst, as well as an undercover intel gatherer. Under Skeptic's duty. More of a down-low kind of role.

You weren't the most talkative, but you were always there at every meeting and event. However, the outfits you wore and the way you did your hair almost completely contrasted with your rather quiet personality. Bold eyeliner, frilly skirts, sexy fishnets. You'd come to meetings and usually have your face buried into a sketchbook, yet whenever you were called on it seemed like you were paying attention perfectly.

Shigaraki kept tabs on most of the PLF members, though not extensively. You, however, always managed to catch his eye. For such a minuscule role in the organization, you seemed to pop up everywhere. It was never hard to spot you.

What truly caught him was when you walked into a meeting wearing a fucking League of Legends shirt. He recalls it perfectly. The way you fwumped down in your chair, always across the table in the same damn chair every time. You carried about five manga books with you and your sketchbook, and a Monster Energy right by you. He paid closer attention at that meeting and picked up on your habits and suddenly he found your voice exciting to listen to. It was a bummer you were so reserved.

With all that damn shit you carried around with you, it was frequent that you'd be stuck in the meeting room a couple minutes after everyone left. Just trying to gather your things.

Tomura noticed you questioning your packing methods as he walked toward the door. He was getting a little irritated just watching you struggle with your bag, trying to get it all to fit. He thought to himself "fuck it" and strolled over to you. You weren't really paying attention as he grabbed one of your books with only two fingers and a thumb, eyeballing your backpack. You packed a lot of shit.

You looked up and you began to freeze. The big boss. You were beyond confused and a tiny bit frightened. You didn't say anything until he looked at you as well.

"Need help?" Tomura asked, gently waving the book in his hand. You took note that he was being careful with it.

"Uh..sure, yes," you stammered.

"You have a lot of stuff. How'd you even get it all up here? Cuz to be honest all this ain't gonna fit."

"I carried it."

He now took note of the headphones around your shoulders. You were funny, he thought.

"Let me take the backpack and you can carry your books."

You paused a moment, confused that he stopped to help you. Especially considering he's, him.

"O-okay."

Tomura took your bag, which typically is a little heavy for you, but less than a breeze for him.

"Where's your room?" Tomura asked.

"Skeptic's wing."

"Oh, right. You're the research girlie."

You were impressed that he knew. You followed him sheepishly. "Girlie." Shigaraki sure did have a smart mouth, judging by the meetings. Once you got down the stairs, Tomura gestured for you to go in front of him.

"Lead the way. I don't know where the hell we're going."

You lead him toward your room of the building. Tomura snuck a look at your ass as you guided him through Skeptic's wing. The fishnets looked nice on you, too. A part of his mind wanted to compare you to a hooker, but he had a feeling that wasn't very progressive of him. He wasn't complaining, though.

"Here."

You two had finally arrived at your bedroom. You opened the door and Shigaraki questioned if it was okay for him to come in, so he sat the backpack down just beyond your door.

"I, uh. Thank you, Shigaraki."

He felt a little excitement in his pants listening to you say his name, especially in such a thankful tone.

"Yea, no prob." He began to step away, no formal goodbye until he stopped, realizing he didn't exactly know your name.

He made steps backwards towards your door.

"You're name..it's Y/N? If I remember right. Sorry. There's a lot of us."

"No worries," you smiled. "Yea, that's me."

"You play League?" He asked, noticing your shirt again.

"Oh! Yea! I mean, I fucki- sorry-language, I suck. But I love playing."

"No shame. I'd carry you," Tomura flirted? He wasn't sure. He eyed you like an excited puppy. "I just don't know any girls who play. Or anyone aside from Spinner, honestly."

"He does?"

"Yea. We, uh..We should play. Tonight?" Tomura felt his face get warm and he knew he had to cut the convo short before he went red.

"Yea!!" You perked up. Excited to make friends, which was very hard for you because of how quiet you were. With Shigaraki, too? Definitely would come in your favor, you figured.

Shigaraki felt himself get flustered at your sudden excitement.

"Do you have a paper and pen?" He asked, figuring you should.

"Yeah hold on," you went to your desk and pulled out a paper and pen and handed them over to him.

Tomura used his thigh to write down his user, and also included his phone number while he was at it, just in case.

"Here. I, uh, I gotta go but you can text me. I'll tell Spinner to be prepared."

"Okay," you beamed. Tomura tried holding back his smile that would've spread right across his face if he didn't.

"Okay. Bye." He turned away and trailed off faster than lightning. For the first time in...wow. For once, he felt like he was experiencing happiness in an objectively good way that didn't involve murdering a whole city. He then wondered if that was gonna be a deal breaker.

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

A couple weeks had passed. You and Tomura were certainly friends up to this point. You played League a bunch (with Spinner, who could tell Shigaraki had the hots for you), but you two had also played other games together. Minecraft and GTA were regulars. He even pestered about Animal Crossing, but you didn't have a Switch! (He was going to change that).

As for in-person? You two sat closer together at meetings. You had even left your designated chair to come join his side. Some of the other higher-ups were starting to question it, but Shigaraki always found ways to write them off.

You made Tomura feel normal. Almost child-like. Like there was someone who only needed him for mutual jokes and fun. You were also a very understanding person and didn't shame him for things that you had every reason to. Of course, he hadn't spilled every bean in his can yet. He couldn't handle sharing all that and then you did not like him the same way he liked you.

"Dude, just ask her out." Dabi sipped from his beer and scowled watching Shigaraki stare at you from across the room. The League threw a party for no good reason. Of course, PLF members were encouraged to come.

"She doesn't have other people to hang out with so she's probably looking for you anyways," Spinner included.

"Don't call her a loner," Shigaraki said spitefully, taking a drink from his glass of whiskey.

"If the shoe fits," Dabi includes.

"She's smart for that. This world is full of posers."

"Not like yourself, right?" Dabi includes.

"I will dump my whiskey on your burn scars. Shut the fuck up."

"Just fucking ask the girl out. She gets all smiley around you anyways. Probably gooey, too."

"Knock it OFF!" Shigaraki rumbles. Though the hypothetical idea of that definitely made him feel pride. "I've like. Never had a friend, who was a girl, that I liked this way."

"You're a virgin, got it," Dabi joked, knowing full well he was risking his life.

"I fucking hate you." Shigaraki sighs and scratches his, neck. He turned his gaze over to you, noticing your fitting black dress with your classic fish nets. He noticed a boob window, too. That was gonna make this harder (ha). He actually appreciated your style a lot. He was always excited to see what you chose to wear whenever there was a meeting, or he knew he was gonna see you somehow. Always full of surprises.

Spinner was right, though. You looked lost. You hung around the bar, bored and stagnant. Shigaraki noticed some guys looking at you, making him feel protective and angry. You looked your head around and then you and his gaze met. He figured it was time to approach you.

He walked up to you at the bar with his whiskey in hand. He sat in the chair next to yours and looked at you with a restrained smirk.

"Hi."

"Hi," you giggled.

"Having a good time?"

"So far I've been bored."

"When did you get here?" Shigaraki says sneaky. He saw you come in twenty minutes ago.

"A bit ago."

"Why didn't you come look for me?"

"I saw you with Spinner and Dabi, actually. I didn't know if you wanted me to hang out with you."

"Are you kidding me?" Shigaraki furrows, but sees you genuine face of worry. "Of course, I want to hang out with you. More than Dabi, I can say that."

"I'm just not as cool as most of the others."

"Girlie, you're out of your mind if you think you're any less cool than these losers. You're uh. You're like the coolest girl I know," he begins to transition into a mumble, though you heard every word.

"You're uh," Tomura's head whipped around when you began speaking. "You're cooler."

"I'll agree with you there. I'm better at games. And murderous ways."

"Yea."

"You're a deviant little devil, though," He chuckles, semi-sarcastically.

"Okay, maybe I am cooler, actually."

"Fuck you," He laughs.

He really couldn't handle it anymore. Not being transparent about how he felt about you. He did the good thing, right? He didn't solicit himself onto you and try the nice guy shit. He also wanted to get to know you better, though. But he felt himself get excited to see you. He'd get sad when you didn't text him for a while. He found himself wanting to comfort you, as well as Shigaraki possibly could. He wanted to touch you, and not even sexually (well, yes sexually). He wanted to feel your hair and how you felt hugging him. Oh, yea. His quirk. He's gotten gloves from the Doctor before, though. He can make it work.

"I knew you were here when you got here," he admits.

"I know. You looked over at me a couple times."

"Oh."

"What took you so long?"

"I..uh-" his mind was screaming. "I was nervous."

"You were nervous? When do you get nervous?"

"Tonight. Right now. I-It's just, I-fuck!" He buried his face in his hands, itching the area on his face he could reach.

"What's wrong?"

"I like you," Tomura muffled in his hands.

You're eyes shot wide open and your heart beat faster than you thought possible.

"Really?" You began to smile wide, though Tomura still couldn't see.

"YeuUP! A lot. Like so much so that..FUUUck."

"Being shy is my job!" You giggled, voice shaking. Shigaraki could hear the tremble in your voice and looked at you, seeing your huge smile and bright eyes.

"Yea, well. You're cute. You did this to me!" He scoffs with a cackle.

"I brought the big boss to his knees, then?"

"Uh-huh. Ya got me."

"I, um.." Tomura turned his head to you while you began to speak. "I like you too."

"You do?"

"Yea. I've been scared to say it. I didn't think you did."

"For a data analyst I figured you'd pick up on it."

"Well. Maybe I did. But I doubted that it was true."

"Well," Tomura turned to face you directly this time. "It's pretty canon, as you'd say."

You chuckled at him and looked at his hands. You reached out and trailed your more delicate hands against his, rubbing the inside of his palm. He looked at you in awe, in slight disbelief of what you were doing.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Tomura asked, slightly shaking.

"Yes." You smiled, his hand now holding yours, with his pinky up. "Please?"

"Yea. I'm the one who asked, silly. And I'll get gloves, okay?"

"Okay. I trust you."

"Thanks. So...is it too early to ask for a kiss?"

You blushed and hid your face in your other hand.

"No. But there's all these people."

"True. Let's get out of here then. My room? I got a huuuuge bed."

"What're your intentions?" You blushed.

He shrugged and smirked. "Whatever you want. I also have like, six gaming consoles and a PC. Mario Kart? Or...Smash? ;)"

"Both?"

"Good choice."

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shiggy #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shiggy x reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Text

i work from nine to five; hey hell, i pay the price | Marcus Pike

Summary | You use the office halloween party as a way to prove you can push yourself out of your comfort zone. You didn't expect that to mean that the apple of your eye, Marcus Pike, would take an interest in you.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4K

Warnings | Explicit smut, workplace 'romance', negative talk about bodies, body issues, plus size reader, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, dirty talk, mention of food and alcohol, halloween vibes, costumes, pet names, but nothing else.

Authors Note | I told myself I wasn't going to do halloween writing, and then I had a very vivid image of Marcus Pike bending me over his desk at a work party.... So I did some halloween writing. As a woman who lives life in a bigger body, this one goes out to everyone else who has felt the way reader has felt. These are MY OWN experiences, attitudes I've had given to me, and given to myself, they aren't universal, we all feel differently about ourselves, but if you've ever been made to feel less than because of the way you look, just know I see you and that Marcus Pike would absolutely take you apart regardless of how thick your thighs are. If you liked this, please consider supporting me through my Ko-Fi.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You tug at your skirt a little, trying to pull it down over your thighs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to choose something skimpy for the office Halloween party. A way to challenge yourself, finally start to work through the years of bullying at school, and the off-hand comments from your almond-mom who had always told you things like, ‘you could stand to lose a few pounds’, or ‘surely a salad would be a better idea?’.

It had been such a relief when you’d gotten this job two years ago, finally earning enough on an FBI salary to move out of your family home and into your own space. A space where you weren’t judged for how many fries you had on your plate, or how the pair of trousers you’d chosen to wear made your belly look. It had been good for you, and ever since, you’d been trying your best to challenge yourself to do things you never thought you’d ever have the confidence to do.

Things like standing in the office, in a pair of fishnet tights, with a skirt so short that if you bent over, Dave from Finance would get a complete eyeful. Looking around though, you couldn’t help feel like it had been a terrible idea. Amy from HR looked absolutely phenomenal in her devil outfit – a red bodycon dress that looked like it had been painted on, showing not a single imperfection on her body – and Jessica, who worked reception, in a Catwoman jumpsuit that hugged her figure perfectly. You don’t think it would ever go away, the comparing yourself to everyone else, even though you knew that Amy and Jessica would totally have their own insecurities about things.

You were trying to make yourself at small as possible, crowding yourself into the corner of the room, hand clutched around a plastic cup full of ‘spooky punch’, that Hannah, the office manager had put together, which comprised of mostly vodka, some orange juice and what looked like a whole bottle of green food coloring, with some eyeball candy floating around in it. She’d put together a Halloween playlist, which was currently blasting The Monster Mash at a decibel you think should be illegal, and everyone had contributed to her spooky buffet, which was just normal food cut into shapes – like your addition of frozen pizza that you’d cut out with a ghost-shaped cookie cutter. You know you should go and mingle. Adam, on your team has already tried twice to get you to join their little group, so you relent, and walk over, giving everyone a warm smile. It’s all going well, until Alison, nods her head in your direction and stats speaking.

“Did you work late?” She asks, to which you shake your head.

“No, why?”

“Oh,” She grimaces, “I just didn’t think you’d dressed up, is all.”

And you know it’s mainly because she’s oblivious to mostly everything, but it smarts. Sure, the orange turtleneck is something you’d worn to work before, as are the black platform heels, but the skirt that ghosts the bottom of your ass and the fishnet tights that are still probably one size too small are not something you usually wear, nor are the fake glasses, with thick black frames, or the fucking magnifying glass you’re clutching. You sigh, make your excuses and walk over to the buffet table, picking up one of the slices of pizza you’d brought. Once you’ve eaten that, you reach for one of the cupcakes at the back of the table. It’s iced like a pumpkin and the cake looks to be chocolate, which is your favourite. You’re peeling off the wrapper and about to take a bite when someone interrupts you.

“They’re delicious.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Marcus Pike. Head of Department. Not your boss, but your boss’ boss, and the most beautiful man you think you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d sat in on meetings that he chaired, supposed to be taking notes but instead focused entirely on him and how he commanded the room. The way he talked with his hands, and how much you wish you could have him run those over your thighs. Or the way he would chew on his bottom lip when he was concentrating, wondering whether he’d like it if you did that if he were to ever kiss you.

“Oh.” You exhale softly, suddenly uber aware of the fact he’s probably just watched you eat the ghost-shaped pizza, and now, not a minute later, getting ready to bite into the cupcake, you go to set it down on the table, but he stops you, hand gently holding onto your wrist.

“Please,” He says softly, “I made them, so I need the ego boost.”

You smile a little, finally meeting his eyes, “You just said they were delicious, what do you need my opinion for?”

“I remember the raspberry muffins you made last week,” He smirks a little, “And the apple turnovers the week before those, and everything else you bring in, I need to know what the office star baker thinks about my effort.”

You’re going to refuse, say you’re already full, despite the pizza being the first thing you’d eaten that evening, that you’ll take it home with you and report back on Monday, but his beautiful brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, so you sigh, peel the rest of the wrapper off and take a bite. It’s actually delicious. He’s put some kind of orange flavouring in the icing, and the cake itself is really good.

“You were right,” You smile, “It is delicious.”

He smiles, like he’s won a prize and it makes you feel a bit fuzzy inside, that this man next to you has been affected by your praise.

“Great costume, by the way.” He compliments, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body.

“You mean you don’t think I ran out of time and came in my office clothes?” You tease.

“You’d wear that skirt to the office?” He’s smirking at you, and also offers you a wink, which has your hand dropping to the table, holding yourself up, why on earth was Marcus Pike flirting with you? “It’s good, Velma, right?” He motions to the magnifying glass abandoned on the table.

You chuckle a little, “First prize, got it first time,” You then take a moment to take in his costume, he’s wearing a brown jacket over one of his usual shirts, a brown satchel is draped across his body and he’s got a hat on, but it’s the whip that really gives him away, “Indiana Jones?” You say quietly.

“The one and only.” He smiles, opening his arms a little.

You think it must be the amount of vodka that Hannah put in the punch, but even so, your next question shocks you, “Do I ask where you got the whip from?”

He looks around dramatically, “Just checking Amy from HR is out of earshot,” Then he leans in a little closer, “It’s from my own personal collection.”

You reach your hand out, letting your fingers run over the material where the handle is holstered in his pocket. It feels expensive, although it’s not like you have much experience with them to pass judgement on what’s expensive and what isn’t.

“Feels expensive,” You hum, “Guess that head of department salary has to get spent on something.”

He reaches down and takes your hand in his gently, running soft circles over the skin on the back of your hand, “You really do look lovely tonight,” He speaks softly, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

And then as quickly as he was stood in front of you, he’s gone. You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding in, focusing on the way your chest is heaving and you can feel your pulse in your head. You pick up your plastic cup and down the liquid that’s left in the bottom, wincing at the strength of the vodka, then deciding you need a top up.

You mill about for a little bit longer, but still feel like a bit of a spare part. You’ve shown your face, spoken to everyone you should have, and now there’s a glass of wine and a bubble bath with your name on it back home. You pick up your coat from the back of a random office chair, grab your bag from your own desk, and sneak out as quietly as you can. You’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator, when you hear a voice from behind you.

“Running away?”

You turn around, Marcus Pike is leaning against the doorframe to his office. He’s taken the satchel off, and the whip is no longer in his pocket. He’s crossed one ankle over the other, arms crossed over his chest.

“Feeling a little like a spare part,” You shrug, “And there’s a glass of wine calling my name at home.”

He nods in understanding, “You drink whiskey?” He asks.

“If I have to.” You answer back.

“Well, how about you stay and have one with me,” He offers, “Leave that wine for another day.”

You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, because why on earth would Marcus Pike want to have a drink with you? It feels like someone somewhere is having a good old laugh at your expense, but you feel your feet leading you towards him, brushing past him and into his office.

You’ve been in here a handful of times before, mainly to drop of reports and papers, and only once whilst he’s been there. It’s been a very professional relationship up until now, no flirting, nothing inappropriate. You drape your coat over the arm of the small couch he’s got there – you imagine he sleeps on it when he hasn’t got time to go home during crunch time of investigations. Your bag sits on the floor next to it.

He leaves the door open, giving you an out if you want it. He points to the couch, tells you to sit down, which you do, pulling once again at the tiny skirt, trying to cover the way the skin of your thighs bulge through the holes of the fishnet tights, ultimately failing, as Marcus reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them both equally, handing one to you, but he doesn’t sit next to you, he just leans against the edge of his desk.

“I always thought it was a myth,” You muse, “Agents with whiskey in their desks.”

He smiles at you, “It’s in there for big wins,” He explains, “Cracking cases and that kind of stuff.”

You nod your head, taking a small sip of your drink, wincing as it drags down your throat, “What’s tonight’s big win?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and then cringing a little at yourself.

“You looking that sinful.”

You’re taking a sip when he says it, so you end up spluttering quite unattractively at his words. Is he serious? You dab at the corners on your mouth, setting your glass down on the floor, “Sorry,” You mutter, “But are you for real?”

He smirks, “As real as you and I.”

He pushes himself off the desk, puts his drink down on it as he moves. He takes three wide strides until he’s stood in front of you. You look up from where you’re sat, hands folded in your lap. He reaches out, drags the fake glasses from your face, throws them absentmindedly onto the couch next to you. You’re breathing heavily as reaches out with one of his hands. The flat of his palm cupping your jaw, whilst his thumb traces along your bottom lip.

“Do you want me to close the door?” He asks, voice lower than you’ve ever known it.

You have no words, your tongue refusing to work, so you nod instead, because as much as you’re still thinking someone is going to come in and tell you you’re being pranked, you also want to know what he’s going to do next. He’s back to you in moments once he’s closed the door and turned the lock. The light above is harsh, but it’s needed, because the blinds are closed.

He's standing in front of you again, this time both his palms are cupping your cheeks, and he’s leaning down, ever so slowly, until his lips are a hairs breath from yours. God, you want him to push the last few millimeters and kiss you, but he’s stopped. Waiting. And you don’t want to break first. You’ve done it before, gone to kiss someone, and then felt them laugh just before you can, because why would they want to?

“You gonna kiss me, pretty lady?”

“I want you to kiss me first.” You admit on a shaky breath.

You’ve got your eyes closed, so you can’t read his eyes, look for the sense of regret in them, so it’s a shock when you feel his lips on yours. It’s so soft, barely there, before he’s pulling away, still close enough to feel his hot breath over your skin though.

“There,” His thumbs are moving across the skin of your cheeks, “Now you.”

So, you do. You reach your hand around to the back of his neck, pull him into you and really press your lips to his. His bottom lip slots between yours and you suck it gently into your mouth. You smile a little at the sound that comes from his throat, then he’s opening his mouth against yours and you’re following, doing exactly the same, letting his tongue behind your teeth as it melds with your own. His hands are dropping from your face, trailing down your shoulders. He leans forward into you a little, his hands under your arms to tug you up.

You drag your mouth from him to stand up, his hands dropping to your hips to guide you behind his desk. There are nerves bubbling under your skin because you know what he wants as he pressed your ass into the wood. He wants you to sit on it. To be fair to the department, it’s a sturdy looking desk, but the thought of the way it’s going to creak under your weight makes you want to crawl into a hole. Marcus doesn’t push though, just brings his mouth back to yours, letting his hands wander a little, dragging them back up your body to palm your tits through the layers you’re wearing.

“I think you did this on purpose,” He speaks against your mouth, “Like you knew this woman had always driven me wild.”

You don’t mean to, but it makes you laugh, “Don’t tell me Velma from Scooby-Doo was your sexual awakening?”

He laughs back, doesn’t confirm it, but doesn’t deny it either. He’s looking down your body, having pulled back a bit, “Fuck,” He mutters, “Every time I look at you, it gets better.”

“The magic of a slutty Halloween costume.” You shrug.

He nods his head, but speaks again, “It’s not just that though,” He’s speaking softly now, “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, wandering around the office all the time, driving me mad.”

This would normally be the time that you’d try and fight against the compliments being thrown your way. Tell them they must be lying, or joke that they need to get their eyes tested. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like you should do that here. There’s something about Marcus that makes you think he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t string you along this far just to have a laugh at your expense, so you don’t do it, for the first time in your life.

You reach up to his shirt, undo two of the buttons, “You know,” You hum, “I think exactly the same as you, with your whip or not.”

He breathes out, taking hold of your wrists to stop your movements, “Let me make you feel good?” He asks.

You meet his eyes, feeling heat rise across your face, but you nod anyway, because you’ve come this far, and you can already feel wetness pooling in your panties. He drags his hands down your body, grips your hips and forces you to sit on the edge of the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, as he pushes the material of your skirt to gather at your waist. Your legs open further, and Marcus groans when your movement reveals the see-through black lace of your panties. It hadn’t felt right to dress as a sexy Velma and wear your normal underwear, is how you justify it.

You’re expecting him to tell you to lift up so he can drag your tights off you, but instead, he hooks a finger through the material at your groin and fucking rips them apart. It makes you gasp. You’d chide him for ruining them, but at this point you don’t care. They were cheap, and if it means you’re going to have his mouth on you quicker, then you’re not going to complain.

Marcus leans forwards, you can feel the heat of his breath splaying across the lace material, and then he drags his tongue across the length of your folds over the lace of your panties. Even with the material barrier between your skin and his mouth, you’re tipping your head back in pleasure, letting out a breath as he repeats his movements, dragging his fingers just behind his tongue on his last pass of movements. It’s not enough.

“Please, Marcus.” You beg quietly.

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks, looking up at you with angelic eyes, as if he couldn’t possibly think what it is you want from him.

“Your mouth.”

“You already have it.” He points out, proving his point by licking another stripe up your panties.

“Marcus,” You sigh, “Move the… fuck… move the damn material out of the way.”

He lets out a huff of amusement, “See,” He says, doing exactly as you ask, hooking his fingers under the material and moving it to the side, “All you had to do was ask.”

He doesn’t waste any more time now. Letting his tongue dip between your slick folds, dragging the wetness that’s pooled at your entrance up to your clit, where he flicks softly with the tip of his tongue. You feel his thumbs spreading the lips of your cunt, baring you to him so he can really start to work you up. He presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, working it gently as your hand settles into the curls on his head, anchoring him there. He’s doing all the things you love, moving between wide stripes of the flat of his tongue, and quick flicks with the tip, until your hips are grinding against his face and you’re biting down onto your bottom lip to keep quiet.

“You taste so fucking sweet, pretty lady,” He speaks against your skin, surprising you a little as he pushes not one, but two of his fingers into your soaked cunt, “Feel good?”

“Oh God,” You breathe out as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed inside of you, “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.”

He doesn’t, the obedient man that he is. He starts dragging his fingers in and out of you, whilst his lips wrap around your clit, pulling it into his mouth, laving it with attention from his tongue, which sends you over the edge.

Your thighs are clenching around his head as your body convulses. All you want is to cry out, call his name into the room, but even though you can hear the music from the party down here, anyone could be walking past, and it would be just your luck that it would be Amy from HR. His mouth is working you through those aftershocks as your thighs ease the pressure around his head.

He's breathing as heavy as you are when he stands, slotting himself between your open legs. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your silken center, as he dips his head to kiss you again, your taste intoxicating on his tongue.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, almost desperately, “You gonna let me?”

“Please.” Is all you can get out, as he drags you off the desk, flipping you around so your front is pressed against the wood of the desk.

He’s got his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing you down. You can hear him undoing his belt, dragging the zipper of his jeans down. You shuffle a little, widening your stance as he takes his place behind you. You can feel him dragging his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he’s pulled from you, before he’s plunging into you in one go. It takes everything you have not to scream. He’s big. Stretching you like no-one has before and it feels so fucking good.

Marcus is still gripping the back of your neck as he starts moving, his other hand gripping the plush cheek of your ass, spreading you open even more as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He’s going slowly, and you think that the way his breath is hitching in his throat means he’s struggling to keep his composure, so you decide to have a little fun.

When he’s pulled almost all the way out of you, you turn your head as much as you can with his hand resting there, looking over your shoulder at him as you wiggle your ass, slowly backing into him, letting your cunt suck him right back into you again.

“Baby, you can’t do that,” He pleads, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, “Carry on like that and this will be over before it’s begun.”

“Don’t care,” You mutter, “Harder, please.”

He starts pounding into you now, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene. You’re both trying as hard as possible to keep the moans and groans as quiet as possible, and you can’t help but wish he wants more, that he’ll take you home sometime, unwrap you and let you scream for him, but you decide to focus on the here and now.

“Touch yourself.” You hear demanded from behind you, “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

You snake your hand underneath you, pushing the discomfort of how your arm is trapped between your body and the desk, and start tracing quick circles over your clit. You’re already sensitive, hanging on the edge from his mouth, so you press harder, move your wrist faster.

“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Marcus groans behind you, “Close, ain’tcha?” He asks, “Go on baby, let go for me, let me feel you.”

And it’s his voice that does it, that finally tips you over the edge, has your cunt clenching around him, walls fluttering and teeth biting into your bottom lip as your knees give way. Thankfully, Marcus is gripping at your hips, which helps to keep you upright.

“Where, baby?” He asks, voice strained, and you don’t catch what he means, “Quick baby, where do you want me?”

“Anywhere.” You groan out, “I don’t care Marcus, just come for me.”

You think for a moment he might stay inside you, which would be fine, you thank the implant under the skin of your arm, but at the last minute he’s pulling out of you, feeling the hot slick of his cum on the skin of your ass as he lets out a low groan out of his mouth. He’s breathing heavily behind you, pulling his jeans back up. You try and move, to push yourself up, but you’re worried if you move further you might collapse.

“Stay there.” He says gently, leaning over you to pluck a few tissues from the box on his desk, gently wiping away the mess he’s caused, pulling your panties back into place and letting your skirt cover as much of your ass as it can in your position.

“You okay?” He asks softly, helping you to stand, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear.

You nod, because you are, you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly, never been made to come so hard in your life, but there’s an anxiety settling in your stomach. What always happens now is they’ll tell you they had a great time, but don’t think they want to see you again, which is going to be even more embarrassing because you have to work with this man.

It's almost as if he can sense your anxiety, because he’s cupping your cheek again, leaning to give you a soft kiss on the lips, “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” He asks, “I know we’ve done things out of order, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

You smile, because it does make you happy, that the man you’ve fancied for the best part of a year actually wants to take you out, “As long as you promise to take me back to yours after and let me see you naked?”

He blows out air from his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling, “You drive a hard bargain,” He muses, “But you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He’s moving from you now, over to the couch, picking up your coat and your back, motioning you over so he can help you into your jacket, hooking your bag onto your elbow, then moving to gather his own things, “Wait, right now?” You ask, sounding surprised, as he shrugs his jacket on.

“I know a great diner just down the road.” He shrugs, picking up his satchel.

He’s walking back to you, but you put a hand on his chest, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, watching a confused look fall over his face, you dart your eyes to his desk, where the whip from earlier is lying abandoned, “I’m only coming back to yours if you bring that.”

You watch as a smirk splays across his lips. He snatches the whip from his desk, shoving it into the satchel, “Well, pretty lady, lead the way.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #The mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #plus size reader

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lemonade4wanda · 9 months ago

Text

Anyone other than you

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary- You and your supposed "enemy" get stuck in a cupboard while on a duo mission

Warnings- violence, gunshots, emo Wanda, mean Wanda, forced proximity, claustrophobia, confusion, not proofread!!

A/n - I dont know whether I hate this tbhhh idk whether it's because it took me sm breaks to write it but it feels off idkk

You entered the quinjet while sighing to yourself. How did you let this happen? You thought as you buckled on your seatbelt. Getting put on a duo mission with the one woman on the team who hates your guts. Wanda Maximoff.

You never had any idea what you'd done to make her despise you so much but nothing you ever did seemed to make up for it. Everytime you spoke in a meeting you could feel her stare digging into your soul. The way she'd scowl when she entered what she'd presume to be an empty room only to find you inside. She'd always mumble something in a language you didn't understand before flouncing out the room. Things weren't any better when you were part of a group with her either. She'd barely respond if you asked her something or flat out ignore you.

It wasn't like you hadn't tried to get along with her either, trying to be as friendly with her as you were with everyone else. Offering to make her food, help her with household chores or help out with her mission reports but nothing you did ever seemed to stop her from glaring at you. She wasn't known to be the most outgoing person but you never saw her act this way with anyone else so eventually you gave up deciding it best to ignore her the way she did you.

Now, unfortunately you didn't have that luxury anymore. You'd begged and begged Tony not to put you on this duo mission even contemplating getting ill to avoid it. He had insisted you had to go on this mission apparently you and Wanda had the 'specific' skills skillset for this mission, whatever that meant you knew he was just bullshitting to get you to shut up.

So now here you were getting ready to set off on your two day long stealth mission with the girl who could barely stand to look at you let alone talk and work with you.

☆

You'd arrived at the hotel room you'd be sharing with Wanda and thanked God that you'd got their first and the fact there was two beds. Quickly you threw down your bag on the bed closest to the window and began to check out the rest of the hotel room.

You were smelling the soaps in the bathroom when in clomped Wanda, her doc Martins still managing to make some kind of noise over the soft carpeted floor. She was dressed in a long baggy grey sweater and black skirt with patterned fishnets. Her hands adorned with rings and her short bitten at nails painted black.

"It smells of smoke." She thinks out loud without noticing your precense in the room.

"Yeah sorry about that it's my new signature perfume." You try to joke hoping she might happen to be over her constant anger with you. You study her face through the bathroom mirror as you speak watching out for her reaction. At first you see the possibility of a smile forming on her face and a rosy colour on her cheeks but quickly it's replaced by her signature scowl and a disgusted noise sneaking past her lips.

"Oh. You're here." She talks as if she'd expected someone else to be here despite the many debriefs you'd had together about this mission.

You for one had had enough of her attitude around you acting as if you were something below her. "Yes I'm here like it or not. Can we at least just be civil for the sake of this mission." You groan while walking over to where she's stood, raking your hands through your hair. In response she grumbled out some kind of agreement and that was it.

So far things had been going fine, you'd both kept to your own routine with minimal communication between the two of you. For the most part you'd spent your time exploring the hotel you were staying in. It was cheap and smelt damp. You for sure would be complaining at how you got booked in this dingy one star place once this mission was over. You'd been excited originally as the hotel advertised having a twenty five metre indoor swimming pool which was plenty to keep you occupied however when you inquired at the desk the receptionist, who'd been ignoring you stood there for ten minutes while she read her magazine, told it was shut indefinitely.

Eventually you had to return to the room and when you did Wanda was already fast asleep on her bed, small snores sounding occasionally. You took note of how pretty she was when she wasn't scowling before sliding into your own bed for the night.

☆

You'd done the first half of the mission with relative ease, you and Wanda putting a side your differences for the greater good. Now it seemed as if things were taking a turn for the worse. Upon arrival you'd both scouted the building for any kind of agents or security around the building but found none however now it seemed the building was filling up with them. Two men following behind who you were attempting to fire at and run away from, which is much harder than Natasha makes it look in training.

From the whimper of pain which sounded sounded out and echoed down the corridor you assumed you shot one. This was your chance to lose them and Wanda realised that too as you both picked up the pace of your running.

Out of nowhere she grabbed your arm and dragged you inside a small dark box? No it can't be a box you thought as you looked above you and saw an empty clothing rail. It was a cupboard. Your eyes scanned around the little space you had while trying to avoid eyecontact with Wanda who was leaning over top of you with one hand next to your head against the wall of the cupboard to keep her upright.

Quickly the cramped and uncomfortable space became all too much for you. The lack of oxygen in there made you take shallow breaths and sweat pooled from your forhead. It felt like the walls were closing in. You should get out. No you had to. Trying to move to force yourself out startled Wanda who gripped onto your shoulder to avoid you both tumbling out and compromising your hiding place.

"What are you doing? Just stay still." She whispered angrily. Had her voice always sounding that good up close? At that thought a frown crossed your face and you briefly forgot how badly you needed to get out of this space you were entrapped in. It didn't make you completely forget though as you came to your senses and stopped thinking about how nice Wanda's voice was and remembered how your heart was thundering in your chest and you whole body ached to get out of this cupboard.

"Have to.. to get out." You breathe out, expecting some kind of rude response from her as your breathing further quickens and vision fogs up. Her actual response is nothing you'd ever thought you'd hear her say.

"Look at me y/n." She waits to make sure your making eyecontact with her before continuing. "Its going to be okay, this is all okay and this is nothing you can't do. Just focus on me not the four walls.." her voice was soothing and not completely unlike a lullaby. You still felt unsettled but nothing like before when you were desperate to get out. "Your gonna be fine." She says again as she takes your hand in her own gently squeezing it. The cool feeling of her silver rings against your sweaty palms helping further calm you down as your breathing once again becomes steady.

After a few minutes of silence where you just focus on your breathing and the feeling of Wanda's thumb rubbing against the back of your hand you begin to speak. "Thanks.. I know you don't really like me or anything but I appreciated that a lot."

"Its nothing really... also your stood on my foot." She tells you returning to her usual cold snappy voice. Quickly you moved your foot away muttering apologies as you did, unsure how long you'd been stood on her foot. "I don't hate you either. Well not really."

Your about to question her on why she acts this way around you if she really doesn't hate you but before you can she opens the cupboard door and you both stumble out thankful for the airy space around you. "Don't bring this up y/n." She says before leading the way out leaving you trailing behind a little confused. Was she mean? Did she hate you? Was that all for the mission?

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yikimiki · 2 years ago

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Okay so like I have this request like is there any way you can make a smut with Eren x reader with the concept of this. Definitely Eren being the Ghost face from Scream or something 😜🥵 you can make up the story however you want boo

this message was like being struck by lighting… when I tell you I gasped when I saw this picture and I just knew I had to write it

⚠️ warnings: dark content, mentions of gore and murder, smut, very heavy dub-con, crying, creampie, reader doesn’t get to finish, ghostface!eren x fem!reader (though his identity isn’t revealed so), eren is literally a psychotic killer so you know what you’re in for

—

“You know what’s funny?” He asks, then laughs — a resounding, muffled laugh like it’s actually funny. Like you’re not crying for your life right now, thinking about everyone you’ve lost so quickly, so harshly. “That I’ve always wanted them dead… pictured it every single day…” Your panties are thrown to the side like they mean nothing, shoved through the hole he had torn in your fishnets earlier. “But you… I’ve never wanted you dead. I’ve always wanted you like this.”

The ground is merciless and cold beneath your body, and there’s not an ounce of fight left in you. Your lungs have stopped working fully now, driven by exhaustion, and the adrenaline is doing little to make your heart work properly. There are cuts all over your arms and one dangerously close to your carotid, though not deep enough to threaten you life. That man, that… demon had caused them earlier. Right before he slaughtered your friends and brought you to the cellar of this disgusting house.

“You were always better than them, I think you know that,” the voice speaks on — though the timbre seems familiar, that stupid ghost mask is too thick for you to recognize it. Could be anyone. The man’s gloved hands spread your thighs apart and you let him — maybe if you comply he will be merciful in his killing. “That’s why I wanted to have you all for myself. I saved the best for last… my little reward, if you will.

“Why…” you hiccup. The stench of blood is all over you, there is still wet blood — your friend’s wet blood — on your white blouse, and it sticks to your chest as the man tears it open. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air and he palms one, humming at the feeling. “Why are you doing this?”

His head tilts to the side. “I did it all for you, obviously.”

That answer manages to shock you more than the entire night had been able to. You had seen your friends, people you have met since primary school, being cut and shot like it meant nothing — throats slit, guts stabbed, so much blood that you couldn’t even imagine someone could bleed that much. You had heard their screams, their pleads, and, yet, that simple revelation that it had all been for you makes you freeze.

No one has ever done so much for you. He must really care.

You speak up again when he’s pushing the head of his cock inside your pussy. You’re wet — and you hate yourself for finding that situation a little enticing. “You did it for me?” You ask. The man groans like he hates having to talk about it right then.

“I’d do anything for you— fuck…” he gasps when he slips in fully, his heavy member filling you up so perfectly that you can’t help but whine — you feel so loved, so full. You must be special, you must be his muse. “Fuck, it’s even better than I imagined… shit.”

He starts shoving his thick cock inside you like it’s the last pussy he’ll ever have, and you can only melt under his harsh touches as he claims you bloody body like no one has ever done before. This is different — you just know it is. That stupid mask is staring at you, and you don’t even know what to think, but you know that he cares about you. You are alive, even though all your friends are dead. You are alive and their killer is fucking you… and you’re enjoying it. You must be just as sick as he is. You must’ve lost your mind somewhere between the sea of intestines and limbs, because there is no way you’re actually clenching around him, moaning like it’s your first time. There is no way.

He laughs again — and this time, you’re delirious enough to follow. “What a fucking whore you are, you’re loving this. Love being full of cock.”

“You did it for me,” you repeat, mind floating miles above the world. Maybe you’ve lost it, really. Maybe this is it. Maybe you’re bleeding out and you don’t even know it. “You did it for me…”

You roll your eyes back and you try to reach for him, but he’s quicker. He pulls your legs up by the ankles and presses his weight forward, folding you in half as his cock drills so deep inside you that you can’t even think straight. The sounds of wetness are so lewd, so overbearing, and the groaning and cursing coming from beyond the mask is driving you crazy. It becomes higher, more intense, growing into a feverish pace until it resounds into a loud grunt, and he’s spilling himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck, that’s a good little slut,” he says, breathlessly. You wince as he keeps fucking his cock inside you, pushing his cum out as you moan for more. “I might keep you around a little longer, fuck, I don’t think I can get rid of this pussy so soon.”

“W-Who are you?” You ask, dazed. You feel loved, used, everything at once. “Why did you do this for me?”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear the smile in his voice as he answers. “Well, that just ruins the fun, doesn’t it?”

#eren smut #aot smut #eren x reader #attack on titan smut #eren x you #snk smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x you #ghostface!eren

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 2 months ago

Text

you get what you give | franco colapinto

💾 synopsis: It’s 1997, and you’re in your last year of high school, working at Hot Topic, living in a one-sided feud with the boyish, too-charming Gap employee across the hall. Then the universe decides to ruin your life by making him your coworker. tags: kind-of-enemies-to-lovers, teen drama, 90s aesthetic, fluff (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 3.7k words) | (nobody fact-check this, please, i was born in 2003, and i'm not american)

The first time you saw Franco, he was across the food court, leaning against the Gap counter like he was in a catalog. Some preppy kid with khakis that probably cost more than your entire paycheck, laughing at something a coworker said. Meanwhile, you were stuck behind the register at Hot Topic, trying to explain to a middle schooler that no, they couldn’t return their Metallica shirt just because their mom found it “too satanic.”

It wasn’t hate at first sight. Not exactly. It was more like… an allergy. Like every time you looked over at the Gap, there he was: Mr. Perfect Hair, smiling at customers like he actually liked them, folding sweaters like he loved his job. And every time he noticed you looking, he’d wave. Wave. Like you were best friends or something.

Alex, your coworker, thought it was hilarious. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“Or maybe he’s just annoying.”

“Both can be true.”

You ignored him, because whatever Franco’s deal was, you didn’t care. It’s not like Hot Topic and Gap were at war or anything, but they might as well have been. You sold fishnet tights and Slipknot hoodies. He sold pastel cardigans and golf hats. Oil and water. Cats and dogs. People who get the vibe and people who definitely don’t.

It became a thing, though. The waving. The smirking. The way he’d send clueless Gap customers to your store “because they seemed more… alternative.” You started sending preppy moms his way just to balance the universe.

But it all came to a head one Friday, right after you’d clocked in, when your manager pulled you into the back room.

“Got some news,” she said, all chipper like it wasn’t going to ruin your day.

“What?”

“We’re short-staffed, so I hired someone. He’s got retail experience, great attitude –”

And then, like the universe had it out for you, Franco walked in.

“Hey!” he said, all teeth and dimples, like this was some meet-cute and not a complete disaster.

You just stared.

It’s not every day your entire worldview gets flipped upside down, but here you are, staring at Franco in the Hot Topic break room like he’s some alien who crash-landed in the wrong parking lot. He’s got that same stupid perfect smile on his face, like this is totally normal. Like he belongs here. Spoiler: he absolutely does not.

“Hey,” he says, like it’s a regular Friday and not the start of your personal hell. “Guess we’re coworkers now.”

Coworkers.

Coworkers?!

You whip around to face your manager, who’s calmly flipping through a clipboard, completely oblivious to the emotional collapse happening two feet away.

“Is this a joke?” you ask, pointing at Franco. Like maybe someone’s about to jump out with a camera and yell: Gotcha!

“No joke,” your manager chirps. “Franco has retail experience, and he really impressed me in the interview.”

You look back at him. He’s still smiling. Why is he still smiling?

“You interviewed him?”

“Of course! We’re short-staffed, and Franco’s going to be a great addition to the team.”

You don’t even know where to start. The khakis. The tucked-in polo. The fact that he probably doesn’t know the difference between Nirvana and Nine Inch Nails. This guy is going to sell chokers?

“You’re kidding,” you mutter, but no one’s listening.

Franco finally speaks up, still with that ridiculous, infuriating charm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fit right in. I mean, how hard can it be?”

Oh, he’ll fit right in, all right. About as well as a cat fits in a mosh pit.

It starts with the name tag.

Franco’s first obstacle as a Hot Topic employee isn’t even a customer – it’s the little plastic rectangle that refuses to clip onto his perfectly pressed shirt. After a solid minute of fumbling, he finally slaps it onto his chest, crooked, looking way too proud of himself for such a small win.

You, meanwhile, are trying to decide if it’s worth quitting your job just to avoid this nightmare.

“Maybe untuck your shirt,” you suggest, glaring at him. “You look like you’re about to sell Bibles.”

He looks down, confused. “But isn’t this the uniform?”

“No. The uniform is not looking like you have a trust fund.”

He untucks the shirt, but it doesn’t help much. He still stands out like a Gap model in a Halloween store.

And then the customers start rolling in.

The first one is easy: a kid looking for a Blink-182 tee. You grab it from the shelf, hand it over, and move on. Franco watches like he’s taking notes for a science experiment.

The second one? Not so easy.

It’s a girl with jet-black lipstick, multiple nose rings, and an attitude. She narrows her eyes at Franco, who’s manning the register for the first time.

“Do you have this in an extra small?” she asks, holding up a spiked belt.

Franco looks at the belt like it’s a snake. “Uh… let me check in the back?”

“There is no back,” you hiss from across the counter.

“Oh. Right. Um…” He flashes the customer his best smile. “We don’t have it in extra small, but maybe a small could work?”

The girl rolls her eyes so hard you’re worried they might get stuck. “Forget it,” she snaps, storming out.

Franco turns to you, bewildered. “Was it something I said?”

“It was everything you said.”

But it doesn’t stop there.

Later, he mispronounces Misfits as The Misfits. Then he spends five minutes explaining the return policy to a guy who clearly just wanted to buy a patch and leave. By the time someone asks him about gauges, he’s looking at you like he’s about to beg for help.

“Are you sure there’s no training manual?” he asks.

“This is the training,” you shoot back. “Sink or swim.”

But the thing is, he doesn’t sink. Not completely, anyway. Somehow, between the awkward stumbles and clueless questions, he manages to charm almost every customer. Even the goth kids seem to tolerate him, if only because he’s so obviously out of his depth.

And when your manager comes by to check on him, he’s suddenly the picture of professionalism, rattling off sales numbers like he’s been working there for years.

You glare at him as she leaves, impressed.

“What?” he says, grinning. “I’m a fast learner.”

You groan.

It’s halfway through Franco’s second shift when the universe decides to really test your patience. You’re at the register, ringing up a pair of fishnet gloves for a kid who can’t be older than twelve, when you hear the sound of trouble brewing near the band tees.

“Oh, my God,” someone laughs, loud and mean. “Do you even know who that is?”

You look up and see them: a group of older teens, all decked out in leather jackets and studded belts, surrounding Franco like a pack of hyenas. He’s holding up a Black Sabbath shirt, looking a little like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh…” Franco starts, clearly scrambling. “Yeah, of course I do. It’s… uh… classic rock, right?”

The tallest guy in the group snorts. “Classic rock? Bro, this is Sabbath. Tell me you’re joking.”

You can see Franco’s face turn red from across the store. You should probably step in, but there’s a part of you that kind of wants to see him squirm. He’s always so confident, so perfect. It’s nice to see him stumble for once.

But then one of the girls pipes up, flipping her bright purple hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know why they even hired you. You don’t belong here.”

That hits a nerve. You shove the cash drawer closed and storm over before you can think twice.

“He belongs here more than you do,” you snap, stepping between Franco and the group. “Unless you’re planning on buying something, get out.”

The tall guy raises an eyebrow. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you harassing my coworker. Go be a jerk somewhere else.”

There’s a tense pause, but eventually, they back off, muttering insults as they leave the store.

When they’re gone, you turn to Franco. He’s staring at you like you just pulled him out of a burning building.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrug, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Can’t let them scare off the new guy.”

He grins, that same easy, infuriating grin. “So you don’t hate me?”

“Don’t push it.”

You turn to walk back to the register, but you can feel him watching you, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel annoying.

It’s after the dinner rush, which is mostly just bored teenagers roaming the mall with nothing better to do than browse graphic tees they can’t afford, when Franco starts humming. It’s faint at first, just a couple of notes, but it’s enough to get under your skin.

You lean over the counter, glaring at him while he pretends to be absorbed in folding a pile of shirts he definitely refolded twice already. “Are you seriously humming The Cure right now?”

He looks up, wide-eyed, like you caught him committing a crime. “Uh, maybe?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why?” He shrugs, all innocent. “What’s wrong with The Cure?”

“Nothing.” You grab a stack of bandanas and toss them onto the shelf. “Just didn’t peg you as a fan.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” He grins, that boyish, can’t-you-just-love-me grin that’s probably charmed a hundred Gap moms into buying extra polos. It makes you want to throw a mannequin at him.

But then he says, “You know, my mom hated this kind of music. She used to blast Hanson in the car and call it ‘family bonding.’”

You freeze mid-fold, staring at him. “No. Not Hanson.”

“Yep.” He leans against the counter, totally unashamed. “Full-on MMMBop era. It was brutal.”

You snort before you can stop yourself. “That’s horrifying.”

“Tell me about it.” He shakes his head like he’s reliving some great tragedy.

And now you’re laughing, actually laughing, and you hate how easy it feels. It’s not supposed to be easy with Franco. He’s supposed to be the enemy, the preppy intruder in your kingdom of chains and leather.

The store quiets down again, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence between customers. You’re at the counter, sorting through returns, when Franco asks, “So, how long have you been working here?”

You don’t even look up. “Too long.”

“Like… since it opened?”

“Not that long.”

He chuckles. “You just seem like you’re good at it. Like, you know exactly where everything goes, how to deal with customers, all of it.”

You pause, caught off guard by the compliment. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“I’m serious.” He leans against the counter, closer than he needs to be. “It’s cool. You make it look easy.”

For a second, you don’t know what to say. You’re not used to this version of him – the one who’s not joking or smirking or trying to win people over.

“Well,” you mutter, focusing way too hard on a stray thread on your sleeve, “someone has to hold this place together.”

“Guess that makes you the boss, huh?”

You look up, and he’s smiling again, but it’s softer this time, less Gap-commercial and more… real.

“Yeah,” you say, meeting his eyes for a second longer than you mean to. “Guess it does.”

And just like that, you’re back to folding shirts, pretending your face isn’t warm, pretending you’re not replaying the way he said it in your head.

“Hey,” Franco says after a minute, breaking the silence. “Thanks for not letting me completely crash and burn today.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

But he just laughs

A few days later, you’re mid-shift, reorganizing the clearance rack and silently judging whoever thought mixing Korn and Nirvana shirts was a good idea, when you hear Franco call your name.

“Hey!” He’s jogging over, holding a black eyeliner pencil in one hand and a spiked cuff in the other. “Okay, hear me out.”

You look up, already regretting your decision to give him the time of day. “What.”

“I was thinking.” He plops the cuff down on the counter like it’s Exhibit A in a trial. “Maybe I need a vibe adjustment. You know, to fit in better.”

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, you burst out laughing. “You? Adjust your vibe? You are the Gap vibe.”

“Exactly,” he says, unbothered by your mockery. “Which is why I need to commit if I’m going to survive here.”

You shake your head, going back to your rack. “You’re insane.”

“I’m serious!” He grabs your arm, dragging you toward the accessories wall. “Help me out here. What do I need? Eyeliner? A chain wallet? Should I dye my hair black? What screams ‘Hot Topic employee’ to you?”

You yank your arm back, glaring. “First of all, no one dyes their hair black on a whim. Second of all, even if you doused yourself in black nail polish and combat boots, you’d still look like a golden retriever.”

He blinks at you, confused. “A… golden retriever?”

“You know what I mean.” You gesture at him like he’s Exhibit A now. “You’re too happy. Too friendly. Even if you dressed the part, you’d still give off this, like, boy-next-door energy.”

“Wow.” He folds his arms, smirking. “Didn’t realize you’d been analyzing my vibe so much.”

You groan, shoving past him to grab a random shirt off the rack. “Fine. You want help? Put this on.”

He takes the shirt, holding it up with a frown. It’s oversized, black, and has some vaguely satanic-looking band logo on it. “This is… a lot.”

“Exactly.” You throw a studded belt at him for good measure. “Now go try it on.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t argue. He just shrugs and disappears into the fitting room, leaving you to wonder if you’ve actually broken him.

When he finally comes out, you almost choke. The shirt hangs loose over his frame, the belt is slung low around his waist, and he’s added the spiked cuff for good measure. He looks ridiculous.

“Well?” he says, holding his arms out like he’s presenting a masterpiece. “What do you think?”

You tilt your head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You look like a lost theater kid trying to go goth for Halloween.”

He grins, completely unoffended. “So… nailed it?”

“Sure.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Except for the part where no one here is going to believe you’ve ever listened to anything darker than Matchbox Twenty.”

“Ouch.” He puts a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “You’re brutal.”

“And you’re hopeless.”

But as he stands there, grinning like he’s actually proud of himself, you realize something weird. He looks kind of cute.

“Alright, fine,” you say, tossing a pack of black nail polish at him. “You want the full experience? You’re painting your nails next.”

He catches it easily, still smiling. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It’s the end of the night, and the mall feels like a ghost town. The food court’s shut down, the arcade’s lights are dimmed, and you’re counting down the minutes until you can lock up and go home. Franco’s behind the counter, you’re halfheartedly restocking chokers when he says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You look over your shoulder. He looks serious, which is rare for him. Too rare. “What? You need me to explain the difference between Slipknot and Korn again?”

“Ha-ha.” He leans on the counter, “I’m being serious.”

You roll your eyes but put down the chokers. “Fine. Ask away.”

There’s a pause. He’s tapping his fingers on the counter, like he’s working up the nerve. Finally, he says, “Why do you hate me so much?”

You blink at him, trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke, but his face is all earnest curiosity.

“I don’t –” You stop, because of course you do, or at least you did. But now? You’re not so sure.

He’s still looking at you, waiting, and for once, you don’t have a snarky comeback. You just shrug. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, but there’s no edge to it. “When I first started here, you looked like you wanted to set me on fire.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of deserved it.”

He laughs, and the sound fills the empty store in a way that makes your chest feel weird. “Fair. But… why?”

You chew on your lip, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. But something about the way he’s looking at you – like he actually cares about your answer – makes you cave.

“Because you’re you.”

“Wow.” He raises an eyebrow. “Great explanation. Totally clears it up.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “Fine. Because you walked in here all… perfect. Perfect smile, perfect attitude, perfect everything. And this place? It’s not supposed to be perfect. It’s messy, and weird, and full of people who don’t fit in anywhere else. You showing up felt like…”

“Like I didn’t belong.”

“Yeah.” You exhale, relieved he said it so you didn’t have to. “Exactly.”

He’s quiet for a second, and you’re about to make a joke to fill the silence when he says, “You know, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere.”

That shuts you up.

“Not at Gap, not at school, not even at home half the time,” he continues, voice softer now. “But here? I don’t know. It’s different. And it’s not just because of the music or the clothes or whatever. It’s… you.”

Your heart skips, and you hate how easily he can do that to you. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He looks up, meeting your eyes, and suddenly it feels like there’s no space left in the room. “You make it feel like it’s okay to not be perfect. Like it’s okay to just… be.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Words are stuck somewhere in your throat, and all you can do is stare at him like he’s said something impossible.

“I probably sound like an idiot,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I mean it. And if I have to spend every shift here proving that I belong, I will. Because, honestly? This is the first place that I've ever felt comfortable in.”

Your chest feels tight, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s standing. Too close. Not close enough.

“Franco…” You’re not even sure what you’re about to say, but he cuts you off.

“I know. I’ll shut up now.” He steps back, flashing that same boyish grin that used to drive you insane. “Just thought you should know.”

And before you can respond, the store phone rings, breaking the moment.

You grab it, mumbling something about it probably being the mall office, but your hands are shaking as you pick up.

When you hang up, Franco’s already by the door, keys in hand, waiting to lock up. “Ready to call it a night?”

You nod, swallowing hard.

“Cool. See you tomorrow, boss.” He winks, pushing open the door and stepping out into the empty mall.

You watch him go, your heart still racing.

It’s been a few weeks since The Conversation. You and Franco have been in this weird limbo ever since – like you’re both too scared to bring it up again but also too aware of each other to act normal. He still grins at you like he knows a secret, and you still pretend it doesn’t make your heart race.

But tonight, something feels different. The shift was slow, the music quieter than usual, and now the two of you are the last ones left, locking up the store.

Franco leans against the gate, twirling the keys around his finger like he’s in a teen movie. “So,” he says, breaking the silence, “what’s your excuse for staying late tonight? Organizing the chokers by shade again?”

You shove the gate into place and glare at him, though there’s no real anger behind it. “What’s your excuse? Waiting for me to do all the work as usual?”

“Obviously.” He flashes that stupid grin, but this time there’s a bit of anxiety behind it.

You should brush it off, make some sarcastic comment and walk away, but instead, you lean against the counter and cross your arms. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“Me?” He feigns innocence, pointing at himself. “I’m not the one who’s been dodging eye contact for three weeks.”

“Yeah, because you’ve been staring at me like a creep,” you shoot back, but your voice is softer than you mean it to be.

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you in that way that makes you feel like you’re under a spotlight. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” You know exactly what he means, but you’re not making this easy for him.

“About this.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever this is.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “What’s there to talk about? You’re annoying, I tolerate you, the end.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps closer, his grin turning softer, almost shy. “And that’s why you blush every time I call you boss?”

“I do not blush.”

“You so do.”

You groan, turning to fiddle with the register just to give your hands something to do. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you like it.”

Your head snaps up, ready to argue, but suddenly you’re tired of pretending.

“Okay, fine,” you say, throwing up your hands. “Maybe I don’t hate you. Maybe I even… like you a little. Happy now?”

He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually admit it. “Wait, really?”

“Oh my god.” You bury your face in your hands. “Don’t make me say it again.”

He laughs, soft and disbelieving, and when you peek through your fingers, he’s standing right in front of you.

“For the record,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like you too. More than a little.”

Your heart does this stupid flip, and before you can chicken out, you grab the lanyard around his neck and pull him into a kiss. It’s quick, clumsy, and absolutely perfect.

“Wow,” he says, breathless.

“Shut up.”

But you’re smiling, and so is he.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, grinning like an idiot. “But just so you know, I’m totally telling everyone you kissed me first.”

You groan, shoving him playfully. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughs, grabbing your hand before you can pull away completely. “Too late."

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #flashing #flashing lights #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #brightlightwrites

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