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taintandviolent · 1 month ago

Text

Regular ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: You live in Gotham City and are a waitress at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Oz is a regular and you've developed quite the crush on him.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 6.4K | older man/younger woman, semi-established history, making out, cockwarming, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving, dirty talk, smut with a teensy bit of plot (but not really).

a/n: to the 99.9999% of my followers... I'm so sorry but I am begging you guys to hear me out about him!!!! I thoroughly expect this to flop, but I needed to write it for my own sanity. absolutely massive thank you to @redravenblogs for beta-reading! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Ah, Tuesday night.

In Gotham City, every night is a good night for an Italian restaurant. Especially one that’s been in business since 1964 and acquired a hefty lot of aging locals that know the food is good, and a possibly even longer list of trendy, younger foodies that have heard that food is good because of the aging locals.

There’s also the… criminal side of the patrons. Have a place with delicious food and wine, and Gotham’s elite underground is sure to follow. You’ve seen your fair share of men who look like they’re here to discuss a deal over a good meal, and a number of elected officials with them. You know better than to meddle, though. You just do your job, and hope for a good tip. Usually, you get one.

Tonight, it’s raining. Heavily. Surprise, surprise. People flock in from the street as an escape from the deluge outside and the restaurant is filling up quickly. Your section is about three quarters of the way full, and you’re busy. You hear the door open again, followed by the momentary rush of the sound of tires on wet pavement outside. You straighten up, throwing your glance in the way of the entrance.

There he is. A warm smile spreads across your face as you watch him amble in, shaking the rain from his leather coat. Though his appearances aren’t regular, his habits are. He always sits at the same table in your section, towards the back and next to the corner window. Once he figured out it was in an area you attended to, he never sat anywhere else.

You only know him as Oz, the big sweetheart of a man who comes in and always orders the chicken parmigiana. Says it’s the best in town. After seeing him a few times, and sneakily taking note of his last name, you took it upon yourself to do a little digging and found out that he’s known for running with Falcone’s gang and that he’s also the owner of the elite Iceberg Lounge. You never bring those things up to him in fear of starting a conversation he doesn’t want to finish. It’s really none of your business, anyway. You give him a moment to settle into the booth, but once he does – you’re immediately headed that way.

“There she is,” he starts with a smile, watching you as you make your way over to the table, pulling your order notebook from your apron pocket. “There’s my girl.”

A blush hits your cheek – it does every time. From day one, he flirted with you, harmlessly and has continued it ever since. You’re used to patrons being a little flirtatious, but something about the way Oz does it makes your stomach tighten.

“Buonasera, Oz…” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. In the year you’ve worked here, you’ve picked up a little Italian, but the appropriate greetings are mandated by management. “How you doin’?”

“Better now.”

You smile again and dip your chin to your chest shyly. He’s always so affectionate, so warm. For being a guy who meddles in Gotham’s seedy underbelly, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met.

“The usual?”

He nods. “The usual, sweetheart. But gimme’ a side of fettuccine tonight, huh?”

You scribble the order down, and snap your book shut. “You got it.”

“What time you off tonight, doll?”

“Same as every night, Oz. In about an hour.”

“They keepin’ you late every night, huh?”

“Yeah, but a girl’s gotta’ eat.”

He scoffs, shaking his head and shifts in the booth before looking up at you. “I keep tellin’ ya, I could take care uh ya, baby.”

The running joke, but sometimes you wonder if he’s serious. He always tips you generously, alarmingly so, and it’s always put directly in your hand, as though he doesn’t want anyone else knowing that he takes care of your groceries for the week.

“And I keep sayin’ I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Ahh–!” He jerks his head to the side, dismissing those words.

You reach forward to touch his broad shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Let me put your order in, honey. I’ll be right back with your wine.”

With that, you walk proudly off towards the back, swaying your hips. You can feel Oz’s eyes on you as you go and maybe the way you move is intentional, because you know he’s watching. So, what if it was? Can you really blame a girl for liking the attention?

As you round the corner to the kitchen, you clear your throat and call out to the cooks. Angelo is working tonight, and he’s one of the few guys who knows about your little affinity for Oz. As soon as you pin the ticket, Angelo spins the wheel around, looking at the order. He recognizes it, and gives you a knowing smile.

“Oh, look who’s back, eh?”

“Quiet,” you hush, looking back towards the table. You can’t see it from this angle, but you know he’s there, sitting, probably on his phone, or tapping his big knuckles on the wood of the table.

He looks at the sheet again, noticing the addition, and raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend’s hungry tonight.”

“Angelo, will you quit it? He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sugar daddy then, eh?”

You scoff, giving him the finger before reaching for one of the bottles of wine – Oz’s favorite.

You return to his table with a skip in your step. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen him, and you can’t help the giddiness in your gait. As you bump your plush hip into the corner of the table, Oz grins crookedly at you, his gold teeth glinting in the low lighting of the restaurant. You reach into your apron, pulling out a corkscrew.

“So, whatcha’ been up to, Oz?” You say, as you twist the prong into the cork. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Ah, y’know… business as usual.”

He usually gives you an answer like that – something that doesn’t reveal too much about what he does. You wonder if he knows that you’ve looked into him. You suddenly furrow your brow at the cork – it’s being stubborn – and quickly situate the bottle between your legs, squeezing it tight between your thighs. This action isn’t lost on Oz, who watches you with a deeply interested grin, watching how your skirt rides up just slightly at the front, not enough to reveal anything aside from some of your creamy soft thigh flesh. Everything you do is done with such innocence, but there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to him, he thinks. After a moment of yanking, the cork finally gives way with a hollow POP and you grip the bottle, bringing it up to the table. You mutter a quiet apology and fill the glass, pulling the bottle back to wipe the edge on your apron.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Always is.”

Someone calls your name from behind you, and it’s one of the other tables, looking for refills. You offer Oz an apologetic smile, and head in that direction. Sadly, you don’t return until his food is ready. He’s extra present tonight; your eyes meet every time you look in his direction, giving him a timid smile and going about your tasks, but your heart flutters with an adoration for the older man. You’re attentive too, and go over to his table a million and a half times to ask how the food is, if he needs anything else.

“Only you, doll.”

You swat playfully at his shoulder, though the little quip has heat pooling in your core. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about him taking you over the table a handful of times; lustfully imagining what his hips would feel like rutting against your ass as he sunk himself inside of you. You constantly wondered what his cock looked like. He was a big man, and you assumed that rang true for all parts of him – but the hunger to find out was terrible.

He’s one of the last ones to leave, lingering as long as he can before it’s considered rude. Tonight, something’s different about him, like something is on his mind, something he wants to say. Each time you’re at his table, he looks like he’s about to ask, but never does. Finally, as you return to clear his table, reaching for the empty plates on his table, he downs the rest of his wine and clears his throat.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says, pivoting slightly in the booth with some effort. “You uh, you busy after work?”

“N-no.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You straighten up, holding the stacked plates with one flattened palm.

“Why don’t you come down to the Iceberg Lounge? Unwind a little.”

“Oh, Oz, I’m not much of a clubbing girl.”

There’s a glimmer of disappointment in those dark eyes of his, but he sets his jaw, and gets to his feet. This puts him in your proximity, and you can feel the heat rolling off his large body. Your stomach aches to lean into him, press yourself into his gut, and lace your arms around his neck.

“Just think ‘bout it.” He reaches in his pocket.

The tip he gives you tonight almost makes your knees give way. It feels thicker than usual in your left hand and when your fingers close around the bills, you swallow down the protests. You don’t dare count it, not in front of him or anyone else. You’ve stopped telling him no, or that he doesn’t have to, because it’s almost like it offends him. He always hushes you, and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You tuck it in the pocket of your apron, and swallow hard again.

He smiles and steps around you. Your eyes are glued to the visual of him leaving, watching him through the windows as he limps down the sidewalk. God, you want him. It’s a lethal hunger, something that claws and rips at your insides.

Once the restaurant is empty, you and the rest of the crew make quick work of cleaning up and closing up shop. It’s about forty-five minutes later when you’re slipping your arms into the sleeves of your black, wool overcoat and heading through the door. The rain hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse. You heave a sigh. You’ve got a walk ahead of you, but it’s something you’re used to.

“Doll!”

You stop walking, poised just at the end of the sidewalk. You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and pull your jacket right around your neck, squinting into the rain.

“Oz? That you?” You take a step in that direction, knowing full well it is. Your casual act is embarrassing to you, but you persist, pretending you’re surprised to see him getting out of his car. It’s a nice one, too… a Maserati. Was he… waiting for you?

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “You ain’t walkin’ home in this, are ya?”

“Just to the station,” You defend.

“Nah. C’mon.” He limps around the front of his car, rain splattering against his leather coat. “Lemme’ give ya’ a ride.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Really. The rain is brutal and you’re cold, a chill settling into your bones. You hurry towards the plum-coloured car, your high heels clacking against the wet pavement as you do. Oz opens and holds the door for you, waiting patiently for you to make your way over. You get in the car gracefully, making sure not to flash him, though, you doubt he’d mind if you did. It’s warm inside, the heat is on, and the leather interior has absorbed some of that heat. You snuggle into the seat, watching in the rearview as Oz makes his way back around the car, and for a moment you’re surrounded by nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and the shlick of the wiper blades as they whisk the droplets off the windshield. The driver’s side door opens, and he tucks himself in. Droplets of rain decorate his shoulders, and he smears his hand over his hair.

“Where to, sweetheart?” He asks, a familiarity in his voice. He’s used to driving people around, but he’d drive you around the whole city if you asked.

“The complex on the corner of 7th and Onyx…” you say, almost sheepishly. Sure, it’s not the best part of town, but your little apartment is cozy, overlooking the city. You imagine he’s used to much nicer, and is probably silently judging the location.

“Oz,” you start, looking at the girth of his fingers as they wrap around the steering wheel. Your mind starts to wander, but you quickly reign it in with a hard blink and an inhalation of breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, doll. Anything you want.”

“Were you waiting for me to get off work?”

“Gotta’ look out for my favorite girl, y’know?”

It’s an indirect answer, but an answer all the same. You smile to yourself as he eases his foot into the gas pedal, the car moving forward. His right hand departs from the steering wheel to turn on the radio. Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice fills the inside, and for the rest of the drive, you’re silent, occasionally stealing looks at Oz as he drives. He handles the car beautifully, and you wonder if he handles a woman as well.

Oz is sweet. You know this. Despite his constant heavy flirting at the restaurant, he’s sweet, charming and at times, awkward. Endearingly so. But you aren’t taking pity on him. Your interest in him is purely selfish, driven by your lust for older, dangerous men. You inhale a deep breath and turn your attention to the road. You’re close to home. A few minutes later, he pulls up next to your building and puts the car in park.

You reposition yourself to face him, shifting your feet underneath you. He’s watching you, those smoldering, dark eyes following your every move. Carefully, you lean over the center console, enough to close in the distance between you two and press your lips against his warm, scarred cheek. His aftershave wafts into your nose, and you take a deep breath of it, remembering it. You think you hear his breath hitching.

“That’s for the ride, Oz.”

“Shit, I oughta’ drive you ‘round more often if that’s what it gets me, huh?”

You hesitate a moment, looking into his eyes. There’s that look again – like he wants to ask something. You fill the void with another question.

“Is our chicken parm really the best, or do you just come for me?”

Oz’s thick brows flick up on his forehead and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “Sweetheart...”

“Do you come for me?”

Now he’s really looking at you, squinting at you. Hearing that question repeated has him twitching in his goddamn slacks. He looks out to the rain, then back to you and you’re still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“If you only fuckin’ knew,” he chokes out.

“Well.. what if I wanna’ know?”

“Doll,” he grins and laughs, almost nervously. It’s loveable and you can’t help but smile, your gaze fixated on his scarred mouth as he speaks. You aren’t staring negatively, quite the contrary. Like everything else unusual about him, you find his scars sexy.

“You don’t gotta’... y’know, do that.”

You smile again, letting your lids close slightly. He thinks you’re doing this because you’re what? Paying him back for all the tips? Treating him like a charity case? Hysterical. If he only knew.

“Answer my question, Oz. What if I wanna’ know?”

He shifts in his seat. Uncomfortable? You can’t tell.

“Then uh… I ain’t gonna’ deny you that. Find out.”

You lean back over, and instead of kissing his cheek, you tilt your head and go for his mouth, your soft, plush lips pressing against his. He doesn’t respond… not right away, at least. He’s stunned, but also trying not to devour you like some goddamned hungry animal. Finally, his lips twitch to life, pressing back against yours.

He ain’t used to this. But, fuck, it feels good.

As his mouth opens, his large hand comes up to the side of your face, holding you where you’re at. The cool chill of the band of his ring is a stark contrast against the warmth of his digits. His fingertips graze the edge of your hairline, massaging gently. The taste of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating, the wine lingering on his breath mingles with his own personal notes. You let an open-mouthed moan fall from your throat, into his, and he reciprocates, moving his body slightly towards you. Your tongue slips along his bottom lip, pausing to nibble at it softly. He groans deep, his eyes rolling back in his head. You’re getting him stiff, worked up and all you’re fuckin’ doin’ is kissin’ him.

This is getting heavy. You feel your own arousal burning between your legs, a fiery, throbbing heartbeat that gets more incessant the longer his tongue is in your mouth, tasting you. Oz is practically taking you in mouthfuls, and your hand crawls over the center console, just far enough that your fingernails scrape against the fabric of his slacks, over his thigh. A desperate attempt to get closer to him without just straddling him in his front seat.

A deep rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning pulls you two from each other. You lurch away, panting, and look out through the front windshield. The rain comes down harder, and you can hardly make out the outlines of the buildings in front of you.

“I should… probably go inside before this gets any worse.”

You aren’t sure if you’re talking about the rain or the mutual arousal. Maybe both. He clears his throat in response; he wants to tell you that you’re a cruel woman, leaving him like this, but with the taste of you still on his tongue, he ain’t about to push his luck and get greedy. He unlocks the doors from the panel on his left. You open the door and get out, dragging your bag with you. You lean back inside, looking at him with dreamy, half-lidded eyes.

“I’ll see you, Oz. Thanks for the ride.”

But not the kiss? You cringe at your words. There’s that look again – but this time, you know he wants to ask you if you’re coming down to the Lounge later. You know it, and you’ve already made up your mind.

Instead, he shrugs with both of his shoulders. “Sure, sweetheart. Any time. I mean that.”

With butterflies in your stomach, you exit the car, and shut the door, careful not to slam it. You hold your purse above your head as you run to the front door and you hear the roar of Oz’s engine as he speeds off. The second you’re inside, you kick off your heels at the door and hurry to the back of the apartment. You flip the lightswitch, illuminating the modest bedroom. You pull the dress from the back of your closet, half expecting a cloud of dust to come with it.

Thank god it still fits.

You catch a cab downtown, which is much less luxurious than your previous ride. It drops you off in front, and the line to get in stretches down the length of the building. You knew it was a popular place, but you hadn’t expected this. The rain, nor the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening, deters these patrons – whatever’s inside must really be something. You pull your dress down your thighs, and walk carefully up onto the sidewalk. Deciding to try your luck with the bouncers, you bypass the line, trying not to look at anyone to your right. If you stand in line, you won’t be inside for hours.

Two men – identical twins – stand in front of the door.

“Can we help you?” One of them asks, sternly. You don’t take offense, they’re only doing their job.

“Um…” You blurt out your name, adding, “Oz asked me to come.”

One of the men speaks into a small mic attached to the lapel of his jacket, covering it with his hand. It’s only a moment before one of them opens the door and the music goes from muffled to booming, vibrating your bones. You mutter a quick thanks, and step inside, feeling like you’ve just cheated the system. The visual that meets you truly overwhelms you at first, and you hesitate.

It’s a staggeringly massive venue, filled with undulating bodies. The building itself is industrial in nature, all steel and flashing red lights. The dance floor stretches as far as your eyes can see, a literal sea of human beings, all grinding against each other, feeling the music in their veins. You stand, stunned at the start of the crowd, unsure of where to go.

After a moment, you lift your gaze and your eyes meet for the hundredth time that night. Oz stands on the second floor, on almost a catwalk above the crowds. He looks like he did at the restaurant, save for the leather jacket which was replaced by a white suit jacket; he’s wearing the same purple shirt and black slacks. Your shoulders relax, knowing that whatever happens next will be something you remember for the rest of your life.

He doesn’t make it a secret of how he’s checking you out, a devilish sneer on his face. He’s only ever seen you in your waitress outfit, which let it be known, is sexy enough on its own, but this plunging number that gives him a peek at your cleavage, and hugs your hips in ways he could only dream of… He deepens his grin and jerks his head to the side, urging you up. You follow his gaze and clock the staircase to your left. You make a beeline for it, holding the chain of your purse in a fist and climb the steel staircase carefully, until you get to the platform that Oz is standing on.

“Hi!” You shout over the pulsing music. You’re giddy, like a schoolgirl. It’s embarrassing, really.

“I gotta’ be honest, doll, I didn’t think I’d see you.” he confesses, leaning into your ear. His voice is rough, but enticing. He pulls back, gauging your reaction. You stare at him for a moment, saying nothing, prolonging the moment and torturing him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes flick down to watch. Something he does a lot, you notice.

“What?” you ask, leaning into him. “After what happened in the car?”

When you pull back to look at him, there’s a bemused smile on your face. Confident. Cocky. Like there was an unspoken contest of who would mention it first and you won. He shrugs lightly, huffing out a laugh. You reach for his cheek, palming it softly. Oz keeps his composure, even though inside, he wants to lean into it and whimper like a dog. He’s glad he doesn’t though.

“I’m the one who kissed you, remember? It’s not like you did anything to offend me, Oz.” you coo.

“I ‘spose not, huh?”

You nod, slowly, coyly.

“The chicken parm,” he says suddenly, shrugging with his hands. “It ain’t bad. But I guess you’ve figured out the real reason why I come there, huh?”

You laugh brightly, looking over the railing at the throngs of people below you, neon red lights washing over them in time with the music. You smile softly, feeling special. It’s not every day that you get private access to an elite club in Gotham City and get to schmooze with the owner.

“Come upstairs with me.” Feeling like your attention is drifting from him, Oz takes your hand, guiding you in the direction of yet another flight of stairs. Your eyes trail up the steps; they lead to a loft, glass windows on every side.

You’re stone cold sober, so you can’t blame the alcohol, but the second you’re in his office, above the crowds, above it all, you’re on him like a bear on honey. Your hands smear over his chest, fingers grazing through the hair that peeks out from his open shirt. He smells like cigars and an expensive cologne that you take lungfuls of.

“You're an eager girl, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, Oz… I am.” You reply breathlessly, kissing a path along his bottom lip and chin.

“How long have you felt this way, huh?”

You finally pull back, and lick your lips, watching him intently. You knew he was a talker from the restaurant, always chatting. But right now, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. “Uhm…” Your chest heaves visibly, and Oz has to fight to keep his eyes on yours. “The first or second time you came into Bellini…”

“Ah, c’moooon!” he says, incredulously.

“No, I’m serious!” You laugh a little, moving your head to try and keep Oz’s gaze. He looks off behind you for a moment, and when he returns his attention to you, his expression is serious.

“Chicks like you don’t go after guys like me –”

You bristle and take his face in your hands. “Chicks like me? What do you know about chicks like me, Oz? You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

He sidesteps that with another question. “What, you like older guys or somethin’?”

“They’re better…” You say in between tiny kisses. “They know better. They’re more experienced. Guys my age…” You pause to run a finger along his lip. “They don’t know how to take care of women.”

Oz smiles. It’s a dirty, devious smile, and it sends a pulse to your core. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and he brings his hand up to the curve of your shoulder. “You want me to take care of ya, baby? Is that what you’re sayin’?”

You nod. A little too enthusiastically, maybe.

“It’s a busy club, sweetheart.” He says, almost nonchalantly, as though his slacks aren’t tenting in between both of you.

But… he has a point. You hum quietly.

“Later, then? Give me a tour of the club and – “ Your voice trails off because Oz looks like he’s just gotten an idea. He smirks, and his hand grips your hip, pulling you close to his gut. “What?”

“How’s about you sit on it, huh?”

Your head turns, gaze heavily resting on the room across the way. You assume it’s for the dancers of the club. Whatever it is – it’s right there. You glance at it nervously, and your expression reads strong, apparently, because Oz chuckles next to you, and brings his hand to your jaw, forcing it back in his direction.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay. They ain’t gonna’ know a thing.”

His hand drops from your jaw to your waist, where his thumb swipes circles over your dress. His hand sweeps around to the back, where your skin is exposed, and begins stroking patterns over the skin, igniting tiny fires wherever he touches. You lean forward, pressing your mouth against his again, hungry for his taste again. After a few minutes, Oz pulls away, ending the foreplay. He turns and ambles to the leather sofa angled in front of the window and you follow, taking slow, careful steps. One foot in front of the other.

Once he’s seated, you lift your dress just enough to grip the delicately stretchy lace of your panties on either side, and carefully pull them down the curve of your ass. Oz is watching, his brown eyes locked on the tantalizing visual in front of him. You discard them on the sofa cushion, not thinking about where they land. Oz watches though, and his large hand snakes out, fisting them and discreetly tucking them into the pocket of his slacks. If you asked, he would’ve told you that he didn’t want anyone fuckin’ seein’ ‘em. The reality was that his perversions were too loud, and he was going to take a token of this dream he was experiencing.

Oz reaches down, unlatching his slacks, and pulling the zip down just enough to reach in and pull his aching cock free. As you lower yourself, he lines it up, watching intently. You whimper his name, feeling the cockhead nudge your entrance.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy. That’s it, nice n’ slow.” He licks his lips.

At first, you nestle yourself down onto his thick cock gradually. The fat, leaking head pops in first, sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitches in your throat, and instead of sliding yourself down his shaft slowly, with a huff, you slam your ass down hard. You’re sitting all the way down on Oz’s wide lap, stuffing the rest of him in. He’s thicker than he is long, but god, it’s everything you thought it would be. He vocalizes, surprised at your determination. You still, letting your walls accommodate the girth of the man beneath you.

“Hoo, baby...”

The tiniest little movements have him clenching his jaw, hissing through his teeth. And then… with his hand casually holding onto your hip, Oz starts to rut his hips up into you. It’s just enough to rock your body up and down and move his cock inside you.

He grunts underneath you, his grasp tightening on the satin of your dress. He craves skin, and his hand slides into the space between your dress and your back. You can’t help but let out the tiniest of whimpers at the feeling of being so full – you don’t remember the last time you were stretched like that. Your dress pools, hanging heavy between your legs and concealing your leaking core.

Abruptly, the collective sound of high heels approaches, and your eyes snap up to the glass windows. A group of girls crowds the room parallel, and the second one of them spots you two, they’re heading your way. Oz stops moving.

“Alright… quiet, doll.” He slaps your hip a few times. It’s a warning, and one you immediately heed, straightening up, tucking your hips into a more natural sitting position. His cock twitches inside you, and you swallow back the noise that bubbles up your throat.

“Ozzy,” the girls coo in unison. One of them has a martini in her hand and asks who you are. God, they’re all so beautiful, you think. Insecurity threatens, but the stretching between your legs calms it.

Leaning to the side to meet their gaze, he tells them your name, proudly – the bastard – and you wave, sheepishly, trying not to allude to the fact that Oz’s girthy cock is buried inside you. Maybe they know. Maybe he’s done this before. You swallow hard, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“We was just havin’ a meeting. She’s thinkin’ of workin’ here.” A bold faced lie, but it distracts the women from looking too hard at the scene in front of them. They all titter excitedly, delighted by the prospect of having another friend to play with.

“Oz takes real good care of us,” one of them chimes in, earnestly. “You’d love it here.”

You clench around his cock as hard as you can, your internal muscles squeezing him in a vice. You smile as naturally as you can at the girls as Oz continues speaking casually. The man’s poker face must be insane because he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t give away a single thing.

“Alright, alright. Girls, what am I payin’ ya for, huh? Get down there.”

In a flurry of nods and apologies, the women disperse, heading back down to the throbbing club below them. The sound of their high heels clicking down the stairs fades away, replaced by the dull, muffled thrumming of the music below. As soon as you two are alone again, Oz bucks his hips up into you hard, almost painfully, pulling a low groan from your throat.

“Tell me how good that feels, sweetheart. Tell me.” The roughness of his voice, the harshness of his accent makes everything sound intense, but the desperation in which he asks that isn’t lost on you. He’s practically begging you to tell him, revealing a deep-rooted hunger for praise. You wet your throat, and lean your head back onto his shoulder, bringing your hand up around to the back of his wide neck; the flesh is warm and damp with sweat.

“It feels so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah…” You close your eyes, wincing slightly at the way his cock bullies you and stretches you open. “So good, Oz. I’ve thought about this… so many times.”

His hips rut up into you, finding a hungry, incessant rhythm and your slick walls clench around him. The action brings a choking grunt from his mouth, and your ego swells with the control. An idea blossoms. You straighten up; setting your hips and grinding them back and forth on his lap. Beneath you, Oz moans, his grip on you tightening. You feel his large body shudder, and a cocky smile curls its way around your lips.

“You like that, Oz? You like me fucking you like that?”

He nods, breathlessly, reaching up to palm the sweat that drips into his brow.

“Tell me,” you whisper, arching your body against his.

“I l-like the way you’re fuckin’ me. It feels real fuckin’ good… ” He grumbles, pleased. “Feelin’ that tight pussy uh yours… like heaven, doll.”

You whine at that, loving the way it sounds coming from his mouth. Your hips gyrate, continuing their ruthless pattern on his cock. His hand strays from your hip and juts between your legs, finding your cunt. His thick fingers slip between your folds, stroking you just enough to drive your orgasm closer to the edge. You whimper, tossing your head back.

Oz’s gaze drops from your back to your ass, watching as the flesh swells when you push back against him. God damn. It’s a perfect fuckin’ view, and he sucks in a deep breath. Every muscle in his body tightens, even if he ain’t ready for that.

“Aw, fuck–” he grunts, low. Deep in his stomach, his muscles clench, trying hard to stave off the oncoming orgasm. His eyes open, focusing on the ceiling, the sound of the music, anything except for the way you’re ridin’ him. It ain’t workin’, because he feels his whole body tense up. Fuck.

His hand goes slack between your legs and you grit your teeth, bringing your brows together in a pained expression. The dual stimulation was nice, but the way his cock massages your walls, stretching them out and filling you in a way that has you gasping is enough to drive you mad. You’re thankful that the music is so loud beneath you, because your desperate mewls and whines are getting higher and higher in pitch. Oz mutters something, something filthy about filling you and you drive your hips back against him. And with that, he loses it. He thrusts his hips up into you a few times, with a frenzied sort of desperation. You feel the heat painting your insides, coating your walls in his ecstasy. Underneath you, Oz’s thrusts have turned languid and lazy. He’s silently justifying the too-quick orgasm with the fact that he had to; anyone could’ve walked in at any time. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s been like a slobbering dog for you for months.

Chest heaving, your hips continue rutting back and forth, and Oz shifts underneath you, still panting heavily. It’s tender, but he doesn’t complain. His thrusts continue to slow and you desperately reach between your legs, tapping his hand back to life. “D-don’t stop Oz, please… don’t stop…”

Behind you, Oz chuckles under his breath and straightens up, having sunk back into the sofa a little too far when he lost it. His thick index finger strokes your clit upwards, and a shiver rips through your body. The coil in your stomach winds tighter as you settle into the oncoming feeling. Still full of him, your slick walls shudder around his cock as the first wave hits. The coil snaps, your thighs clamp shut around his hand, and you look down, sighing loud as he continues flicking between your folds. One of your hands is situated on his thigh, and the other comes to grip his wrist, feeling the cuban link chain beneath your palm.

“That’s it, sweetheart… that’s it…” As you ride it out, bucking your hips against his groin, he coaxes you through your orgasm, both vocally and with the way he massages your clit, the pad of his index finger pressing into it. You can hear the pride in his voice, it’s absolutely dripping with it. “Atta’ girl. Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out. You furiously nod your head as your legs begin to tremble. He doesn’t stop, and your immediate reaction is to dig your nails into the flesh of his hand, silently begging.

“You good, doll?”

“Y-yeah. I’m… wow.”

Oz removes his hand from between your legs, and strokes the side of your thigh, gently. Tenderly. For a moment, you stay like that, just enjoying all of the post-coital sensations. Eventually, you get to your feet, curious about how the patrons downstairs are faring. Speaking of dripping… You swallow hard, and press your thighs together.

While still in front of Oz, you straighten yourself out, pulling your dress back down over your hips. Now, you’re suddenly aware of the throbbing beat beneath your feet and make your way over to the window.

“How about that tour?” You ask, running a nail along the glass that overlooks the dancefloor below you. After a few moments, you feel Oz’s presence behind you, his stomach pressing into the curve of your back.

“I thought you weren’t a clubbin’ girl…” he murmurs throatily, in between kisses to your neck. You tilt your head, allowing more space for him to smother.

“Well,” you confess, honesty tinging your voice. “I’m not. But it’s not every day you get invited to the most elite nightclub in Gotham City.” You shrug. “Might as well.”

#i am so hysterically down bad for this man.... he is terrible and i hate him for what he's done but i also wanna [redacted]#nobody fucking look at me #Oz Cobb x reader #Oswald Cobb x reader #The Penguin x reader #Oz Cobb #oswald cobblepot x reader #Oswald Cobb #Farrell Penguin #myfics #x reader #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #The Penguin HBO #The Penguin

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user211201 · 3 months ago

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Born to be a father

--- Originally posted on 2024-07-10 by breedertfs ---

--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

I'm a gay man in my early 20's. I know I'm young but I keep having these thoughts.....or this desperate need to be a father. I don't understand where it's coming from.

That's your body telling you how things are gonna be now, bro. This is your new normal.

It's in your muscle memory - even if you claim to have never wanted to be a breeder before now. This urge to spread your seed has been lying dormant in your DNA, just waiting for your desires to waken inside your throbbing cock and for the hunger for wet pussy to cloud your rational mind. Don't you love the way I talk about women and their bodies? The way the men in my stories just can't help but to suck on a pair of fat, bouncing tits? How their thick, slobby tongues want nothing more than to slide between some wet, slick pussy lips?

Imagine the squelch, the squirt, the sound of her high pitched moaning. The way her eyelids will flutter when you unleash your hot, thick load inside her.

You're rock hard, bro. Don't deny it. Your hips buck with pleasure, your package feels so fat and hot, your wide cock head rubbing the fabric of your underwear with each needy thrust you make. The young gay man who made his home inside your mind finds himself surrounded by a sudden harem of hot women, blondes and redheads and brunettes, all with their huge breasts exposed and their greedy fingers between their juicy thighs. This makes you moan in the outside world, your boner raging as you continue to gyrate, your work pants growing taut around your much stronger, hairier legs.

"Yeah, you like that, bitch?" an unfamiliar voice speaks from your lips, bristles of dark hair framing your strengthening jaw. Your hands grow larger and callused, reaching out in front of you and gripping around the waist of an imaginary slut. Your eyes turn dark and brooding, your once youthful face growing older and more grizzled. The strange voice continues to deepen and shift as you moan, your arms growing thick with muscle as your larger fingers pretend to reach towards a pair of jiggling tits. You swear you've never touched a set of breasts before, but your new body can conjure the feeling so easily, as if you were just squeezing a pair the very night before. Perky nipples under your fingertips, jiggling flesh in your palms. It's so natural. "Fuck. Tell Daddy what a needy whore you are."

Your once trendy hair pulls back into your scalp and darkens, becoming a close cropped masculine hairstyle. Your work clothes become more professional, colorful pastel shirt becoming a simple short sleeved blue button up, your khakis fading into simple denim. You're a straight man, after all. You don't feel the need to dress up or stand out. You just feel the need to push your cock into a wide open cunt, to feel the pussy juice accepting your shaft and allowing your nine inches to slide right in. Your nuts swell inside your underwear, full of virile seed that desperately wants to be fired into a waiting womb. You moan again, drool sliding down your stubbled chin, your expression taken over by primal lust.

The former you is still trapped inside his mind, staring at the group of women that have him cornered. To his horror, he watches as the moaning bimbos begin to cry out louder, reaching their soft hands up to grab their breasts as each of their tits begin to swell with milk. The old you watches in horror and amazement, all these big boobed beauties suddenly taking it to a new level, but your awe settles into shocked terror as suddenly all of the women begin to reach down to their stomachs, which begin to rapidly inflate as pussy juice squirts and runs down their trembling legs. In a matter of seconds, your fading former self is trapped with a harem of pregnant women. Everywhere you look is a wet cunt, a fat tit dribbling milk, a pair of kissable lips sighing a moan.

The old you doesn't stand a chance inside the mind of a breeder. He begins to shake, his image blurring and beginning to fade, all of his youth and former goals burning away to make room for the superior man who has made your body his home. Inside and out. This is you. The women in your mind are just memories of former and future conquests alike, an endless sea of women that will swell with your seed and raise your children. Nothing turns you on more than this. You have found your purpose in life.

And there's no shame in that. You want to be a father because you were quite literally born to be a father. And now, my dear friend, your new body is going to make sure you have no choice but to be fruitful and multiply.

Better clock in those hours at your new office job. You're gonna have a lot of hungry mouths to feed - and no shortage of women to impregnate.

#breedertfs #reality shift #mental tf #male tf #reality change #gay to straight

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hermajestyimher · 3 months ago

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I Put My Faith in God - Not People

There’s been a lot of criticism about hyper-independence in women, but I personally can’t relate to those critiques. As someone who left home and moved to another country at 18, I’ve always had a strong desire to be my own person and work hard to achieve my goals. Depending on others for my survival has never felt right to me.

For some of us, being a “girl boss” isn’t just a trendy aesthetic—it’s part of who we are. We grew up watching our mothers and grandmothers suffer at the hands of men in their lives. We saw the women in our communities tied down because they couldn’t live without being married or financially dependent on men. Many of us witnessed domestic abuse and other forms of oppression and made the conscious decision to break those cycles.

I’ve learned that the only one I can fully trust in is God. He is not a man who will lie, and His ways are not like ours. He has been beyond faithful to me. If He sends me helpers along the way, I’ll gladly accept their assistance because I know it’s divinely guided, but I will never put my trust in men—never. People are flawed, self-centered, and imperfect. You have to navigate this world with the understanding that someone can present themselves one way and then completely change later on. By putting my faith in God instead of people, I know that whatever provision I receive is good and without strings attached.

Being hyper-independent when it comes to people is crucial to me and I will never allow people with conservative agendas make me feel guilty about it, but I will always remain fully dependent on God.

#things ive learned #level up journey #growth mindset #faith journey

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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Stiff Competition | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: After visiting your bakery one time, Bob has a crush on you. The only problem is, so do all of the other guys.

Warnings: Fluff and some swears

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bob quietly followed his friends inside the trendy, new bakery that opened near base. He had become so accustomed to the bickering between Hangman and Rooster, he found it almost soothing, even early on a Monday morning.

"No way," Bradley said, shaking his head at Jake. "You're wrong, and now you're just being stubborn."

Jake sighed calmly. "I'm just saying, there's no way anyone, Fred included, would pick Velma over Daphne. It's unrealistic."

Bradley grunted in response. "Whatever. Smart girls are always hot."

Bob just cradled his forehead in his hand and let the rich smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wash over his senses. All three men in their khaki uniforms shuffled forward as the line moved.

"Holy shit," Bradley and Jake muttered softly and in perfect unison.

"Do you see what I see?" Bradley asked, staring entranced at the sight before him.

"Oh hell yes, I do," Jake confirmed with a nod.

Bob immediately looked in the direction they were staring, and his breath caught in his throat. All three of them were now eyeing you up where you stood behind the counter. You were smiling at one of the patrons and filling a pastry box with donuts.

"She's kinda hot," Bradley whispered.

"Better than that. She's fucking gorgeous," Jake replied.

Bob silently agreed with them, noting the adorable smudge of flour on your cheek. He had always been a little shy, a little timid around women. And he was not about to get into a dick measuring contest with Bradley and Jake. He would just let the two of them fight it out, because Bob was never the one to get the stunning girl.

When it was their turn to order, Bob watched the other two men trip over each other to get to the counter first. You smiled at each of them in turn, your gaze lingering on Bob and making him blush.

"Hi! What can I get for you fellas?" you asked the three of them, and Bob completely forgot what he was going to order.

"Hey, gorgeous. What would you recommend?" Bradley asked in a deep and raspy voice as he leaned against the counter and peered at you over his aviators.

You chuckled and shook your head. "I would recommend the citrus muffin with orange zest."

"Perfect, I'll get six of those," he said, his smile twitching below his mustache. "I'm Bradley, by the way."

"And I'm Jake! And I'll get a dozen muffins." Bob watched Jake flash you a megawatt smile, and he wished he could be half as charming.

"A dozen muffins?" you asked Jake. Your eyes skimmed back over Bob's face with an amused glint in your eye.

"Actually, I'll take two dozen," Bradley said, changing his order and glaring at Jake.

"So you want a total of three dozen muffins?" you asked before turning toward the bakery case. "Okay.... seems excessive," you muttered.

Bob watched you intently as you packed up bakery boxes of muffins and entered them into the register. You must have known what was going on here, but you just smiled at the three of them as you worked.

"Anything for you?" you asked, flashing Bob a smile that made him feel a little nervous. "You're awfully quiet back there."

"Uh, just a small coffee, please," he muttered, getting out his wallet and trying to stay cool.

"One hundred and twenty eight dollars is your total," you announced, and Jake and Bradley both tried to get you to take their credit cards at the same time.

"I've got it, I insist," Bradley said.

"Use my platinum card," Jake announced loudly.

"Use mine. His will definitely be declined," Bradley replied, trying to nudge Jake out of the way.

You carefully took one in each hand and said, "Um... I'm just going to split it between both cards. How does that sound?"

When the enormous quantity of muffins had been collected, and you handed Bob his coffee, he forced himself to meet your eyes. "Thank you, miss," he said softly, as your fingers grazed against his. "You have a lovely day."

Bob watched you bite your lip as he tucked five dollars into the tip jar and nodded his head at you.

"Thanks. See you soon, I hope," you called as he turned to leave. Bob glanced back one last time as he exited the bakery, and you were still looking at him.

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

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Bob was about to eat the sandwich he had packed, but Jake suggested going back to the bakery.

"I hope she's working again today," Bradley said, grabbing his car keys.

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "Hot little piece like that, she's gotta have a boyfriend."

Bradley snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've stolen a girl from another guy."

"What makes you think she'd pick you when I'm available?" Jake asked.

Bob just tuned them out until they all arrived at the bakery. He was hoping to see you again too, but he just wanted to listen to your voice and watch you smile. He'd let the other two do most of the talking. They were good at that sort of thing.

"Gorgeous," Bradley called you. "How've you been?"

"Fine," you replied, once again smiling at the three of them. "What can I get for you today? Another coffee for you?" you asked Bob, and he just nodded in reply. He didn't need more caffeine today, but he wanted you to hand him the cup again. He'd just give it to Phoenix when he got back on base.

Bob listened to the other two men once again order more pastries than anyone could ever need, and this time Jake pulled a massive wad of cash out of his wallet and insisted on paying for everything. Bradley had a sour look on his face that he tried to hide when you smiled at him and handed him two bags of food.

Then he stood to his full height, chest puffed out. "Thanks, gorgeous," Bradley said, sliding his aviators back into place. Bob watched Jake try to stand as tall as Bradley, failing and looking ridiculous in the process. Bob just closed in on himself a little more, trying to blend his tall frame into the background.

"And your coffee," you said, handing the disposable cup to Bob with another beautiful smile. His hand shook when he accepted the cup, and a little bit of the beverage sloshed down the sleeve of his flight suit and splashed onto the counter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bob muttered, setting down the cup and reaching for the napkins.

"No, it was my fault," you assured him. "I'll clean it up, you don't have to."

"Bob!" Jake called from the doorway. "What's the holdup, man? You coming?"

"Uh, I'll meet you at the car," he replied, mopping up the drink and drying his sleeve.

"Your name's Bob?" you asked him softly.

He glanced up to meet your warm gaze and nodded once. "Yes. I'm Lieutenant Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob," he said quietly.

You smiled and told him your name. "Here you go, Bob. These are on the house. Sorry I spilled your coffee."

Bob took a small paper bag from you and picked up his coffee cup once more. "Oh, that's not necessary. It was my fault."

"I insist," you told him. "See you again soon?"

He looked down at his feet and smiled. "Yes. See you again soon."

"I can't wait."

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

On Friday morning, Bob was a nervous wreck. He'd been thinking about you all week, but he knew the other guys had been, too. They had been talking about you a lot, but Bob was too shy to tell them he was also interested in you.

He'd given the coffee to Phoenix the other day, but he smiled when he opened the bag and found a croissant. His favorite. It seemed like you knew. And it was flaky and perfect, and he couldn't wait to see you again and get another one.

"Bakery time!" Bradley announced. "Time to visit the hottie. You coming, Bob?"

Bob fell into step behind him and Jake, but then Reuben and Javy were joining as well. "Everyone's coming today?" Bob asked, squeezing into Reuben's car along with the other four.

"Yeah, can't wait to see this girl," Javy said.

"Heard she's sexy," Reuben agreed.

Bob just stared out the window and sighed. He was just going to have to get over his crush on you. It was the only way to keep his heart from breaking. He wouldn't look at you, and he wouldn't talk to you. And he definitely wouldn't eat another croissant.

He shuffled into the bakery behind the others, and there you were. He tried to look at all of the baked goods in the case, but you greeted him by name. You greeted only him by name.

"Hi," he managed, and the other four guys turned to glare at him.

"Gorgeous, what would you recommend today?" Bradley asked you.

"Blueberry muffins are good today," you replied, and you started packing up a box full at Javy's request.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Reuben asked, leaning so far across the counter, he may as well have just jumped over.

"I'm the owner and primary baker," you told them, and Bob was so impressed.

"Wow, gorgeous. Your muffins are really famous around here. We can't stop coming back for more," Bradley said, smirking at you. But you were looking at Bob again as he inched forward.

"Did you make the croissant? It was very good," he told you, unable to look away.

You beamed at him. "I did. They're my specialty."

Bob swallowed hard, all four guys looking at him in surprise now. "Could... uh, could I have another one? I'll pay for it this time though, if you don't mind. It was delicious."

"Of course, Bob. Anything you want." You turned to get a bag ready, and Bob thought he might faint.

Jake turned and mouthed at him, "Anything you want?"

Bob just shrugged and made his way toward the register. He was pouring sweat in his flight suit, trying to stay as calm as possible. You met him at the other end of the counter and smiled as you slid a bag and a small coffee his way.

"Three dollars," you told him softly, as if you could tell he was nervous, but you didn't seem to mind.

"What about the coffee?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.

"On the house."

Bob quickly paid you for the croissant, as he could already hear Jake and the others getting restless.

Jake leaned across the counter as you ran his credit card. "You interested in pilots?" he asked with a smirk.

You just swiped the card and handed it back to him. "You're all pilots?" you asked, smiling at all of them.

"Nah, Bob here is just a backseater," Reuben said loudly, slapping Bob on the back and nearly spilling his coffee.

"Oh, so Bob's the brains of the operation? Sounds about right," you said, sending a subtle wink in his direction.

Bob's ears felt a little fuzzy and his collar felt a little too tight. Maybe he had imagined the wink. Yes, that must be it.

The guys all hooted, and Jake said, "Well sure, Bob's smart and organized, but that's not as exciting."

You just shrugged. "Still sounds exciting to me. Hope you guys all have a safe flight this afternoon. Enjoy your croissant, Bob."

He floated out onto the sidewalk with the others, still in a daze.

"What the fuck, guys? She likes Bob the best?" Javy said in disbelief as they all walked back to the car. "Hangman and Rooster, you two really dropped the ball."

"Does she?" Bob asked quietly. "She likes me?"

Reuben shoved half a muffin into his mouth and grinned. "You should ask her out, man."

Bob thought about asking you out the whole drive back to base and as he walked to meet up with Phoenix. When he finally opened the bag to eat his croissant, he saw that you had put three inside.

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

Late Saturday morning, Bob paced around outside of the bakery with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He'd peeked in through the window and saw that you and another girl were working, but he'd lost his nerve. He was on the verge of heading back to his car and calling it a day when the door opened, and he could smell the croissants.

"You can do it," he told himself and rushed inside before he could turn around.

"Bob!" you called with a bright smile. "Back for more croissants?"

He took a deep breath and headed toward you. He noticed you were looking at the flowers in his hand, but you didn't say anything or rush him to respond, which he appreciated. You just smiled and leaned on the counter.

"Yes, I would like another croissant," he muttered, and you pushed up from the counter to get it for him. "Actually, I would like two. But you need to let me pay for both of them today."

"Okay. Sure, Bob," you said with the tiniest smile as you put two into a bag. But now you didn't look as happy, and he wanted to kick himself. How had he messed this up already?

He met you at the register, and you asked him, "So, are the flowers for your wife? Or your girlfriend?"

"Oh, neither," he said, lifting them a little higher. "I don't have either of those."

You looked up at him and bit your lip. "Who's the extra croissant for?"

Bob watched your lips as you waited for him to answer. He was sweating, but he was in too deep to turn back now. "I, um... thought maybe we could eat them together. When you're done working. If you're not too busy."

Your smile lit up your face again. "I would like that."

Bob's smile matched your own. "You would?"

"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "You're so sweet. Much better than your friends. Are those flowers for me?"

Bob looked at the floor as he felt himself blushing. "Oh, yeah," he said, handing them to you. "Of course they are."

He watched you disappear into the kitchen for a minute, only to reappear without the flowers or your apron. Then you joined him on his side of the counter. Without any hesitation, you placed one hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Let's go for a walk," you told him, and Bob's heart was absolutely pounding for you. "I know a nice bench, perfect for eating croissants."

Bob felt you lace your fingers through his, and he held your hand in his larger one. "Lead the way."

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

This fic is for my Bobby loving friend Alex!!! @bradshawsbitch

Thanks to Alli @beyondthesefourwalls for giving this a read for me.

I hope I have done our Loverboy Bob justice!

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@mak-32

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@endofdays56

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@yanna-banana

#robert floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob top gun

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cecilysobsessions · 1 year ago

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STRIP THAT DOWN (m.) | gojo

↬ word count: 7k

↬ fem!reader, stripper!gojo, sub!gojo, inspiration comes from magic mike

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ summary: as the owner and operator of an all-male strip club, you cater to the women that prefer the pretty and feminine younger boys to give them lap dances. oddly enough, your most popular and most requested dancer is gojo satoru. he’s too muscular, too handsome, and entirely too annoying. and, of course, he doesn’t seem to be aware you find him irritating.

↬ warnings: gojo wearing lingerie, gojo begging, gojo got a finger fetish, gojo getting spanked, anal (m. receiving but unfortunately no pegging 😔), gojo bent over a desk, typos but pretend you don’t see them

↬ a/n: this is for everyone that love men who whimper (myself) also i just turned 21! 🎉

m.list

•••

“Your hands feel so soft,” he says more to himself than you. Then, “I wonder how they’d feel in my mouth.”

“What?” you stifle a laugh and smile.

“What?”

•••

As the owner and operator of an all-male strip club, it wasn’t exactly as fun as some might think.

You were constantly stuck helping your dancers adjust their g-strings between sweaty ass cheeks, constantly sewing back up ripped underwear, constantly throwing out people who got a little too touchy, and more gross things you’d rather not think about.

After being in the business yourself for several years, your boss had mentioned that you had an eye for running things, so you thought you’d give it a try yourself. You just didn’t think you’d end up running an all-male strip club.

You’re not sure how it happened—and you’d rather not focus on that right now because one of your dancers is waving a bra in your face, his voice frantic and panicked.

“BOSS! Hello?! I need help!” he aggressively waves the garment in front of your eyes.

“Why are you going to wear a bra for tonight’s show?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Suguru doesn’t even have enough chest to fit in that size!” you heard a voice from across the room. You were currently helping your dancers with a show tonight, stressed because your name was being called in a different direction every five seconds.

It was Gojo.

The brattiest, most entitled, self-centered, good for nothing employee of yours. Good God, every time he spoke you grew irritated, even if he wasn’t talking to you. Although he annoyed you to death with his overly talkative and cocky personality, he was the best dancer here.

Even though you catered to older women who preferred younger more feminine men, Gojo brought in the most money, brought more customers back, helped scout more dancers, and helped train the most. You hated to admit it, but he really was your most valuable employee.

“Don't body shame Suguru,” you half-heartedly scolded Gojo, watching him as you helped Geto.

Gojo was yanking up a pair of skinny jeans past his long legs, struggling to fit into them because his ass wasn’t exactly the flattest. Although skinny jeans might not be trendy right now, the long length and the plump curve of his ass suited it well. Somehow sensing your staring, Gojo turns to you, the corners of his mouth turning up into a sly smirk.

“What’re ya starin’ at?” he asks you with a seductive smile.

You gag. “Get pants that fit better next time.”

“Oh? Maybe I should just wear no pants then.” he teases and you respond with a roll of your eyes.

After helping the rest of your dancers with their various costumes, you gathered them for a quick before-shift pep talk.

“Alright boys, before we start tonight I want to let you know that one of our regulars, Mina, will be here tonight. Does anybody want to explain who she is to the newbies?”

“She’s an old rich lady who’s picky and has a shit ton of annoying ass requests that’ll make you want to rip your hair out and quit.” Gojo quickly chimes in.

Being the favorite of the club had its downsides. For private dances, Mina almost always exclusively chose Gojo. Although she tips him well, he always complains about her to you afterwards. Without fail. Every single time.

“And what kind of requests?” you ask Gojo so that he will explain to the newer boys.

“She’ll ask to touch a lot of things if you do a private dance for her. It’s up to you on what you’re comfortable with, but when we’re out on the floor, no one’s allowed to touch anything.” he explains.

Although Gojo himself could be annoying and a burden to deal with, he is good at what he does. Without him, your club would have shut down a long time ago.

“Alright, thank you, Gojo. Let’s have fun tonight, shake some ass and make some money!” you declare and your employees cheer with their fists up.

When you go to open the doors, the line outside begins to pile in. Nodding to your bouncer in acknowledgement, you watch the club goers by the entrance as you keep an eye out for your regulars or anyone who seems new. As you greet the women walking in, you feel someone bump shoulders with yours. Looking to your side, you look up to see Gojo standing by you in a silk robe and cowboy hat.

“Hey, boss.”

“Shouldn't you be getting ready?”

“I am ready. I got a cowboy bit tonight. The ladies will love it.” he tips his hat at you, playfully winking.

“I’m sure they will.” you spot Mina walk in, watching her take her usual seat towards the front of the stage.

“Will you watch me tonight?”

“No. I’ve got work to do in my office.”

You see Gojo look down and pout in the side of your eye. He’s disappointed. Well, he can stay disappointed. It’s not like this is the only time you can see him dance.

“But Mina is here. I’d feel more comfortable knowing you’re on the floor if she asks me for a dance. I don’t want her trying anything.”

“She won’t.”

“Still. Please?” Gojo’s eyes have a natural sparkle in them it’s hard to say no. The way he so effortlessly holds eye contact with you and begs you through his eyes pisses you off.

“We’ll see.”

•••

If there was one thing you didn’t want, it was any of your dancers feeling uncomfortable in the presence of any of your customers. Pushing aside all the paperwork that was piled up, you made your way to the floor when it was Gojo’s time slot.

You snaked your way through the back of the crowd, your eyes and ears struggling to adjust to the moving colorful lights and the wild screams and cheers from the women in the audience. You lean against a wall, watching Gojo as he gracefully circles a chair on the stage, sitting on it to hump the air aggressively as he rocks his hips to the slow slutty song he’s chosen for tonight. He seems visibly tense, but you don’t know why. When you look closely, you realize his eyes are searching for someone, perhaps Mina. You watch him feel himself up, hands moving to unbutton his shirt before he rips it off and throws it into the crowd of women.

His hands teasingly run over his nipples, squeezing his pecs as he teases his audience more by unbuckling his belt. He looks down at his belt before he takes it off, tossing that item into the audience too. His eyes look back up, continuing to look for someone.

Gojo makes eye contact with you.

Then, a smile of relief.

From then on to the end of the dance, you watch him visibly relax and loosen up a bit more. He’s feeling himself and having more fun, and you’re glad that you came out to watch him like he asked you to.

•••

You’re sitting at the bar massaging your temples with your fingers, a lousy attempt to soothe your worsening headache. You swear under your breath, regretting that you didn’t take painkillers the moment you began to feel your headache. Thankfully, the lights were dimmed and all your dancers had gone home so it was just you as you finished up your final paperwork for the night. You felt absolutely miserable doing it, though. Tonight was just one of those nights.

“Rough night?” you heard the entrance door being unlocked as a shadowed figure stepped in. Walking into the dimmed light, you watched Gojo approach you, a canned drink in his hand.

“Thirsty?” he offers, opening the soda can and handing it to you as he sits next to you, his knee brushing against your leg.

“I don’t even like soda,” your eyes linger on his leg that has brushed up against yours, ignoring the fact that he feels warm against you.

“Yeah, well, that’s the first thing I saw at the convenience store.” he chuckles obnoxiously, and you can’t help but continue to stare at his knee that is still brushed up against your leg.

“I thought you left,” you decide to ignore the warmth you feel from his long legs as you focus on doing your paperwork. You just want to go home. “I saw you leave.”

“I know you want to go home,” he answers, propping his chin on his hand and watching you write something down. “So I came back to help. You seemed a little off tonight.”

“I was not.”

“Was it because I came in late? Were you wondering why I was late when I’m never late?”

“You were late?!” you didn’t even notice.

“You didn’t even notice,” Gojo pouts, one of his hands coming down to rest on the surface, near the paperwork you’re doing. You can’t help but stare at his long fingers, your eyes tracing the prominent veins on his hand.

When you look up, his eyes are staring into yours through his sunglasses that sit crookedly on his nose. You don’t know if he was always sitting so close, but right now his face was leaning into yours, holding eye contact with you as his eyes gazed into yours. He blinks slowly, watching you for any sort of reaction to his stupid deep gaze.

“If you come in late again you’re fired.” you spit out in a panic and look back down to your paperwork. His stupid blue eyes were distracting you and you didn’t want him to know just how much it was affecting you. What was wrong with you?

He lights up, his smile reaching his eyes. He seems satisfied now that you’ve said something. “Yes, ma’am. Tell me what you need help with.”

“Just lock everything up.”

“That’s it?”

“And fix your glasses.”

“The crookedness adds to my sexiness. Anything else?”

“I don’t trust you to do anything else.”

“What about taking you home? Do you trust me doing that?” he playfully asks.

“I can get home just fine.”

“It’s not safe. And besides, can’t I spend time with my favorite person?” he teases, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“You really won’t leave me alone, huh?”

“I really don’t want to.”

“Gojo,” you begin. You didn’t have the time or energy to banter with him.

“Call me by my first name.” he asks, a slight pout on his pretty lips.

“That’s weird.”

“But you call Suguru by his first name. Why not me?”

You’re surprised he noticed a small detail like that. “No. And Gojo?” you say as you stand, wondering if he’ll pout about it again.

“Yes?” he’s standing up now, his eyes peering down into yours as he looks at you from up above. He’s more than a full head taller than you, and the fact that he’s staring down at you with an air of arrogance and his stupid smirk makes you want to put him in his place.

There is a moment of tension that rises. It hangs thick in the air and feels dependent on you. On what you will do. On what you will say. You’re not sure what makes it too weird compared to the other late nights you spent with Gojo closing.

Maybe it’s the dimmed lights or the late hours, but Gojo was looking at you with bedroom eyes so you forced yourself to look towards the door behind him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” you start packing up your stuff. Now that Gojo is bothering you, you decide that you’ll just finish everything at home.

“Wait,” his hand lands on the top of yours, his thumb slightly caressing your knuckles to stop you from gathering your things.

“I wanted to thank you for tonight. For watching me. For… for being there for me.” his voice fades, and you know it’s because he's feeling shy and embarrassed. He’s docile and quiet, something he often does when he gets vulnerable with you. You find it quite adorable.

“You’re welcome.” you go to ruffle his hair, but as you’re about to pull your hand away, he catches it one more, moving it so that you’re caressing his cheek. It’s soft, sculpted.

You watch him stare at you in awe. If anybody walked in at this moment, they would think it’s loving and intimate.

“I really thought you wouldn’t come out.” he confesses in a whisper, nuzzling against your palm as his eyes close in bliss.

“Clearly you thought wrong.” you don’t make a move to pull away, and neither does he.

When his eyes open, they are droopy. Gojo smiles softly, guiding your knuckles to his mouth as he presses a gentle kiss to them. When you give him a small smile, he kisses your hand again, this time it’s your ring finger. He kisses the back of your hand, then turns your arm so that he can kiss the inside of your wrist. And finally, his soft lips make their way to caress your palm as he kisses your hand one last time.

You’re not surprised Gojo is being physically affectionate with you. After all, he’s physically affectionate with almost everyone at the club, so it’s not weird to see him kissing people’s cheeks and giving bear hugs to every person he sees. But what he’s doing right now… it’s oddly intimate. Something you thought he’d never do. Especially since he isn’t saying anything playful or flirty. He’s completely serious right now, eyes unwavering as he watches for your reaction.

“Clearly I did.” He may not be kissing your hand anymore, but he’s holding it in his and studying it; watching it as if it’s fascinating. His thumb smooths over your skin, rubbing it gently with love. You feel your heartbeat speed up all of a sudden, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“Your hands feel so soft,” he says more to himself than you. Then, “I wonder how they’d feel in my mouth.”

“What?” you stifle a laugh and smile.

“What?”

•••

It was 10am. And Gojo was staring down at you, shades sitting on top of his nose, his eyes peeking out from underneath. You had given Gojo a spare key to your apartment in case of emergencies since he lives a little far from the club and you’re closer. He usually let you know in advance if he was coming over to crash at your place, and the times he did it was because it was too late and he was too tired to go to his own place. But today he decided not to and he knows you don’t get up until after noon so why the hell was he here now and what did he want?

“Get out.” you spat out, crankiness lacing your voice as you turned your body to the other side of the bed and covered your face with the blanket.

“It’s an emergency.”

“Call an ambulance.”

“But it’s a fashion emergencyyy,” he pleads, gently shaking your shoulder. “I forgot to buy lingerie for tonight’s show.”

Tonight was a Saturday night, which meant it was going to be busy. Lots of customers which meant lots of tips. On nights like these, Gojo always decided to dance to something more erotic, sexier than his usual dances. He had mentioned a couple nights ago that he wanted to try out lingerie for the weekend.

“Take Suguru. Leave me alone.” you shooed him away from under the covers.

“But you live closer to the mall. Pleaaaaase? I’ll buy you breakfast and your morning coffee.” he asked.

Your head peaked from beneath the blanket and you eyed his outfit. A black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. You looked away quickly, trying to ignore how well the shirt fit snug around his biceps and chest area, and how low his sweatpants hung on his hips you caught a glimpse of his v-line.

“Fine. But you come in early to help set up. Since you were late the other day.”

You tried to ignore the looks people were giving you at the mall, but you couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s stares lingered on Gojo, or how you saw women old enough to be your grandma giving googly eyes at Gojo everytime the two of you walked by. You knew he was attractive, so why did you feel a pang of jealousy anytime anyone stared at him in awe?

Gojo just had to wear the tightest and smallest clothes he could find. The way his pecs were so clearly defined from his stupid compression shirt and how tightly snug it was and how if you looked closely enough and for long enough, you’d notice the slight bump of his nipples through the thin fabric.

Not to mention his sweats. Fitted, but still loose. Fitted as in you could make out the shape of the curves of his ass as he walked, but loose around his hips that his sweatpants were barely hanging by a thread. It was distracting. Eyeing him again as he sifted through lingerie, you try to ignore the slight bulge through his pants.

“—don’t you think?” Gojo asks, turning to you and holding up the thinnest, sluttiest lingerie you’ve ever seen. It was black and thin and lacy and delicate looking. Gojo would definitely rip it while dancing.

“Too thin,” you shook your head, pretending to ignore whatever he said because you were too busy checking him out.

Turns out he noticed you staring. “You don’t even know what I said.” he tilts his head to look at you. Eyeing you up and down.

“I know what you said. I’m just ignoring you.” you brushed him off, suddenly self conscious and walking to another section of the store and searching through the different sets of lingerie.

“You were too busy looking at my tits to hear anything I said.” Gojo follows you, smirking down at you with his usual stupid arrogance that pisses you off.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Jealous because they’re bigger than yours?” his eyes slightly moved down to your chest, before gazing back up into your eyes.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Stop changing the subject. Here,” you picked up a bra and panty set that seemed more suitable for stripping. “You won’t rip this accidentally.” It was red and thicker and less lacy than the other set he picked up, but this one was definitely sexier and bolder.

“I’ll try it on.”

You assumed people thought you and Gojo were shopping for you because unless you’re being dramatic, you definitely felt stares of jealousy from random people who walked by. And when Gojo asked an associate to try on his clothes—hangers of solely lingerie, you ignored the stares again. You were sitting outside the dressing room when you felt your phone ringing and saw that it was Gojo.

“Come in and help me.” he immediately said when you picked up.

“What? Why?”

“It’s—it’s a little stuck. I can't take it off. Shit’s way too tight.” he whispers through the phone.

“Why did you put it on in the first place if it was too small?” you lectured.

“I thought I could take it off! I didn’t think it’d be this hard. Help me.” you could hear the desperation and panic in his voice through the phone.

You rolled your eyes, hanging up the phone and walking up to the employee by the dressing rooms.

“My friend needs help taking off their clothes. Mind if I go in?” she brushed you off with a wave and you walked into the dressing room area, trying to look near the floor to get a peek at which room Gojo was in.

“Gojo?” you whispered, hoping the other customers wouldn’t hear.

You instantly saw his hand come from beneath the dressing door, waving you towards him. When he opened the door and let you in, your eyes took in the sight in front of him.

He was right. The lingerie was way too tight around his body. The bra squished his chest together too tightly you saw a cleavage forming and it was for sure better than yours. Looking down at the panties had you staring at him in silence. It was too small you could see his dick slightly sticking out, his tip a soft pink.

“Stop staring and help me!” he stood there and whisper-yelled at you. His hands automatically covered his crotch and your eyes moved back up to his face. His face was flushed, almost looking like the afterglow after sex. His cheeks were a pretty pink and his eyes were looking everywhere but you. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry as he pleaded for your help.

“This is so embarrassing, please do something.”

You nodded, walking over to him and turning him around so his back was towards you and he was facing the mirror. You were going to start by trying to undo the bra clasp, but when you looked up, you saw Gojo watching you in the mirror. Ignoring him, you focused on the bra. Tugging at it, you finally got it open after fiddling with it and it snapped open immediately. Eyeing the marks it left on his back, your fingers lightly trace them in an attempt to soothe it.

“Turn around. Lemme see your front.” you demand, and he automatically turns to face you, his eyes watching your every move.

Your fingers move slightly over the red irritated skin on his chest. Almost like you were under some spell, you traced the red lines, gently rubbing them to soothe it. Gojo’s chest heaves and he lets out a breath he unknowingly was holding. When you look up, his cheeks are red and his lips are parted and he’s looking at you like he’s begging you to kiss him. You didn’t realize you were standing too close to him in this cramped dressing room.

“Gojo?”

“Yes?” His voice is breathy and light and barely a whisper. You could feel your heartbeat beating in your ears and the silence is way too loud and the only thing you can hear are the other customers outside changing.

You lay your hand flat down on his chest above his heart, wanting to see if he was feeling just as nervous as you. And he was. His heartbeat was a panicked rush and he was looking at you like he was waiting for you to make a move.

“Am I making you nervous?” you ask, leaning up towards him, your lips just inches from his.

“Yes.” his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat, and he looks at you, gaze focused on you and you only.

“Is that all?” you ask, wanting more from him. You could tell he was turned on; you didn’t need to look down at his crotch to confirm it. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was abnormal and he was looking at you like he was begging you to fuck him with his eyes.

“You make me more than just nervous.” he admits.

“Oh?” you waited, a silent beat hanging in the air.

“You make me hard too.” he confirmed, his voice a mere whisper.

Just as you were about to lean into him to kiss him, you heard a loud knock at the changing room door.

“Hey! We don’t allow more than one person in each stall!” the employee on the other side nagged.

“Oh, I’m just helping my friend take off their clothes!” you quickly step away from Gojo, turning around.

“You can take off the underwear by yourself, right? Hurry up!”

•••

Gojo is avoiding you.

Normally you’d be happy, relaxed, welcoming to that sort of behavior. But today it was weird. Ever since yesterday, he has been avoiding you like the plague. Even going so far as ignoring you completely when he walked in on time today and you tried to greet him.

Gojo almost never avoids; actually it’s always the opposite. When he’s not busy, he’s following you around like a puppy and carrying out any order you bark at him. Cleaning the tables, sweeping the floor, whatever it was, he was happy to do it for you. Only today he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Hasn’t even glanced at you.

So why did it bother you so much?

As you help set up the bar with Geto, your eyes follow Gojo’s movements as he moves across the floor, setting up the tables and chairs for tonight’s opening.

“Your eyes are drilling holes into him. Something happened between the two of you?” Geto asks by your side as you wipe a wine glass clean.

“He’s ignoring me.”

“That’s new. What’d he do?”

You think back to the last couple days. His lips on your hands. His soft, whispered tone as he stared into your eyes with those stupid bright blue ocean eyes of his. Then in the dressing room, how he became so obviously aroused by you just touching him slightly. How there was so much tension you would have fucked him right then and there if you weren’t interrupted.

“Who knows,” you shrugged it off, deciding to act like it wasn’t a big deal that Gojo was ignoring you. It totally wasn’t. Not at all. It wasn’t like you’ve been staring at him the moment he came in wondering why he won’t talk to you or anything like that. Not at all.

You’re not sure what happened tonight, but Mina stopped by to speak with you, concerned for Gojo.

“He wasn’t like his usual self tonight,” she told you. “It’s like his head was totally somewhere else. I didn’t even ask to touch his beautifully sculpted big rock hard cock like I usually do.”

“You didn’t need to tell me the last part, Mina.” you scrunch your nose in disgust at her words.

“I’m saying I’m worried. You should check up on the boy. Maybe you’re overworking him, eh?” she told you with a shake of her finger as she exited through the doors as the last customer.

You didn’t watch Gojo tonight and decided to stay in your office, so you wondered if that had anything to do with him not doing his best tonight. Wanting to find out, you started looking for Gojo throughout the establishment. The break room, the bathroom, the changing room, but he was nowhere to be found. Just when you walk back to your office to call him, you open the door to find him leaning against your desk, arms crossed across his chest.

“Who said you could come into my office?” you close the door, ignoring the fact that he’s leaning on your desk and wearing his stupid compression shirt and gray sweatpants.

He ignores you, instead, choosing to follow you behind your desk and stare at you some more. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ignore me.”

“What? I’m ignoring you? Do you hear yourself? I tried to say hi to you when you walked in, and you pretended to not know I was there. You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.” you told him.

“You ignored me first.” he sighs in frustration, looking away with a pout on his pretty lips.

“Gojo, what’re you talking about?”

“Yesterday! In the dressing room. You almost kissed me. You know I wanted to kiss you too. Then after that, you just pretended like nothing happened. And I hate that you don’t call me Satoru.” he almost rolls his eyes, whining and complaining like a child.

Oh. So that’s what he was hurt about. He wasn’t wrong; you did kind of just brush off whatever happened in the dressing room and pretended like nothing happened. But that’s because you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings and you assumed he didn’t want you like that.

You’re fucking stupid.

“I’m sorry,” you stand up quickly, moving so that you’re standing in front of him. His legs part slightly, letting you stand in his personal space as he manspreads all over your desk.

“I just assumed you didn’t think much of it, and I didn’t want to look stupid if I made a move or said anything about it.” you confessed, watching him for his reaction.

“You do look stupid,” he jests, eyes lighting back up, empty of his worries and concerns. “I’ll forgive you if you call me Satoru. No more Gojo this, Gojo that. I want you to call me Satoru.”

You throw him a thankful smile. “Mina was worried about you. She told me today before she left. Said you weren’t doing your best.”

“Mina can go kick the bucket.”

You gasp and hit him jokingly. “Hey! She practically pays your rent!”

He wrinkles his nose in annoyance. “I got a bigger size for the lingerie. It got me my best tips ever.”

“Even though you were out of it tonight?”

“Yeah…” he says quietly, taking a moment to think to himself. “But I think I ripped it.”

“You should just buy a new one then. Don’t sew it up.”

“Hmm. I think you can sew it. At least take a look at it.”

When you reluctantly agree, Gojo spreads his legs a little further, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you further into him. Your eyes automatically move down to his crotch as he presses you against it, the outline of his hardened dick against your legs. He swiftly takes off his shirt, the red bra sitting against his chest.

“You’re staring.” he observes aloud.

“No, I’m not.” you reply, your eyes trained on his hardened nipples that are practically peeking out through the lacy thin bra.

When you finally manage to tear your eyes away from his body and actually inspect the bra, you see that it’s actually in perfect condition and not ripped at all.

Then you realize what Gojo is doing.

“You idiot! You didn’t rip your stupid bra! You just wanted an excuse to take off your clothes.” you finally look up at his eyes with a glare. His stupid ocean eyes stare down at you arrogantly, a playful smirk painted on his pretty face as he sticks his tongue out at you.

“You’re totally right. I lied to you. How mean of me to lie directly to your face, huh?” he tells you sarcastically.

You raise an eyebrow at his sarcasm. Where was he going with this?

“I suppose I might need to be punished for that.” he says, his voice bored and waiting.

You take a moment to think about what he’s asking from you. It was obvious enough he wanted you the way you wanted him; his hardened cock was throbbing against your leg and his hips began to slightly move against your body, a subtle desperation for any sort of friction.

But what exactly did he want? Did he want you to suck him off, or bend you over the desk and fuck you? Gojo didn’t seem like the type to want to do that though; from his interactions with you, he was definitely one for harsh punishments that caused pain. Masochistic little bitch.

While you’re busy thinking, your eyes stay on his lips, perfectly soft and begging to be kissed. So you lean in, pressing a warm and pleasant kiss to his lips. Gojo almost immediately gives into your warmth, leaning in closer to you, his hands wrapping around your waist. He exhales a shaky breath against your cheek, kissing you back gently. When you pull back and look at him, he raises an eyebrow.

“That didn’t feel like a punishment.”

“What kind of punishment were you thinking of?” you ask, because you weren’t about to waste your time guessing.

“Oh, I don’t know… perhaps a couple of spanks might suffice. And maybe while I’m bent over your desk.” he wonders aloud to himself.

You laugh out loud. He’s definitely thought this scenario through. Without replying verbally, you grab Gojo by the front of his bra, aggressively yanking him towards you as you greet him with a kiss. This time it’s not as soft or gentle as the first one. You’re more aggressive this time, biting down on his bottom lip and licking the inside of his mouth. He moans into your mouth, his legs wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him. His moans are dripping with desire, so desperate for more as he kisses you harder, overly excited and clumsy.

“Pants off. Now.” you breathe into the kiss and pull away for a second.

But Gojo is still kissing you. Your cheek, the side of your mouth; any part of your skin he can reach with his mouth. His hands are shakily tugging at his jeans, impatiently trying to yank them down. His legs leave your waist and you yank him off the desk, roughly turning him around and bending him over your desk. Pushing your things aside, you finish stripping him of his pants and they pool at his ankles.

You look down at him, taking the sight of him in. The back of his neck is flushed red, one of his bra straps is falling down his shoulder, and his curved ass cheeks are rubbing against your legs, hungry for some sort of stimulation. He’s wearing a thong, the string between his ass cheeks thin and so easy to rip off.

Your hand caresses his ass, soothing his skin before you slap him lightly, curious as to how much he can take.

“Nghh,” he whimpers lowly. “Hit me harder.” he demands, arching his back and sticking his ass further up the air for you.

Cautiously, you smack his ass harder than the first time, and you watch his pale skin turn a bright red.

“More.”

You give in to Gojo’s demands once more, leaning over his back and smacking his ass. You lean close to his face as he lets out a high pitched whine.

“Quit telling me what to do, Satoru.” you harshly whisper in his ear, and he moans in return, excited to hear you call him by his first name for the first time. He rubs his ass against you again, whines of pleasure escaping his lips.

“Hnghh, spank me harder, please.” he asks you.

“You could beg a little more if you’re that needy.” you tell him with a slap to his ass, listening to the sweet sounds of his whines.

“Nghh, p-please… please…”

“Please what? What would you like me to do to you, Satoru?” you emphasize his name, enjoying his whimper of pleasure every time his name escapes your lips.

“I want more… more than your hands on my ass.” he’s quiet, almost shy and too embarrassed to admit what he really desires.

“What would that be, hm?” your hands place on his waist, your fingers rubbing in circles on his soft skin as you whisper into his ear. “Is it just more spanking you want? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

“Mmm, God, y-yes please. Please, please fuck me. I’m so hard and horny, please let me come.” he begs you, his voice high and whiny and desperate.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” your fingers make their way between his ass, ghosting over his hole as you kiss the back of his neck, sucking hard on his skin to mark him.

“Hnghh,” he whimpers, unable to reply.

“Answer me.” you demand, smacking his ass once more.

“F-fuck, ahh… your fingers. I-I want them in my ass. Stretch me out and fuck me until I cum, please.” Gojo finally voices, a breath of relief leaving his chest. “There’s lube in your left drawer.” he tells you, out of breath and impatiently waiting.

“Did you put that there without telling me?” you ask, taking it out from your desk.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for this exact moment for months.”

“What a slut you are,” you laugh, yanking down his panties and pouring the cold liquid between his ass. He moans as you lean over him again, your finger rubbing at his entrance. “How long have you been wanting me to fuck you?”

“Mmm, since I started working for you.”

You didn’t realize Gojo had a thing for you for that long. He’s one of the OG employees that have been with you since you opened the club a couple years back. You thought it was odd he never dated much, but it turns out it was because he was too busy pining over you to consider anyone else.

While you’re distracted thinking about how long Gojo has wanted you, his voice draws your attention back to his body.

“C-Can you touch my… me, please.” he asks shyly.

“Where?”

“My cock, please.”

You smile, glad he was clearly asking for what he wanted from you. You reach down to grab his dick, stroking it firmly as your other hand works on his ass. His tip is already wet with pre-cum, and his hips are thrusting in your hand as he moans with every stroke from you.

“You’re dripping wet,” you tell him. “Ready to cum already?”

“Haaaah, I want to cum from your fingers. I bet they’re gonna feel so good inside me.” he says. Then, “you can put one finger in. I’m ready.”

You happily oblige, slowly and steadily entering his hole with one finger, and he immediately tightens around you. Your lips stay on his neck, peppering him with small kisses to aid him through the process.

“Good job, Satoru. You’re taking it so well.”

“Haaah, I love it when you call me by my name.” he tightens around you after he hears you using his name, his hardened cock throbbing in your hand as you loosen him up.

You slowly work him open, kissing and sucking and licking his skin as he shudders and moans beneath you. But your walls are thin and Gojo is too loud. His moans are growing louder the more you fuck him with your fingers, and you’re getting worried someone might somehow hear even though it’s after hours.

“You’re too loud.” you tell him, roughly shoving your fingers into him as a small punishment.

You should’ve known he was going to enjoy it.

“Unghh,” he whimpers, louder than his other moans. His back arches once more, shoving his ass into your fingers and clenching around you, desperate for more. “C-can’t help it. Feels too good.” he moans out.

Your other hand leaves his front, covering his mouth with your palm. He moans as you continue fucking him, your office dead silent besides his moaning and the sound of your fingers fucking him. You feel his tongue against your hand, licking his leftover pre-cum off your hand.

“Filthy slut,” you tell him, and he tightens around you in response, sticking his tongue out so you can shove your fingers in his throat.

His mouth is warm and his tongue wraps around your digits, taking them into his mouth and sucking. His eyebrows draw together and he closes his eyes in pleasure, trembling with pleasure. He’s practically fucking himself on your fingers, hips moving on their own as he chases his high. You finger him roughly, leaning down to leave hickeys on his neck as he continues to thrust into you and suck and moan on your fingers. He practically screams in pleasure when you take him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spurts on your floor. He breathes heavily against you as you rub his ass, your other hand leaving his mouth.

“Good?” you ask after a couple minutes of letting him catch his breath.

“Call me by my first name.”

“Satoru?” you ask and he stands back up and turns around to look at you.

You laugh at the sight of him: pants pooled at his ankles, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and cheeks red, and his bra barely hanging on.

“Why are you laughing at me,” he pouts, pulling his sweats back up in embarrassment.

“I didn’t know you liked being fucked like that.” you point out, wiping your hands.

“Well, I am a filthy slut.” he winks, his hands coming up to your shoulders and guiding you to sit in your office chair. “My turn.”

“Clean your jizz up first.” you nod towards the spot on the floor where he finished.

His cheeks flush. “After I eat you out.”

•••

a/n: yall i was too lazy to write the second smut scene so use your imagination 😂 i’m too excited to write my enemies to lovers zuko story so stay tuned! (btw i totally named this fic after that one song by liam payne lmao)

m.list

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months ago

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Ciao amore, just finished writing down an idea for fake hating with sevika. Not fake dating- fake hating. Sevika and reader being all like enemies in public, but then behind closed doors 🤭🤭

Would love to see you do something with this as well bc I know your take is just gonna be 😚🤌🏽 chefs kiss good fr

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

'the last drop' and 'the eye of zaun' have been in a feud for years.

one is owned by vander, one is owned by silco. they've been trying to put each other out of business since their bitter divorce five years ago. the two bars sit across the street from one another, and the owners live in the apartments on top, their four children swapping homes every week.

a lot of locals take the feud really seriously-- there are frequent brawls in the middle of the street when patrons cross paths. vander's customers are all 'old farts', and silco's are all 'trendy punks,' so there's always some kind of issue that's got both bars up in arms and upset.

you try not to get involved. you just keep your head down, wipe down tables, and collect tips.

if you'd known that the man interviewing you was in some kind of lifelong psycho-sexual feud with his ex-husband, you wouldn't have taken the fucking job-- but here you are.

the door to the last drop slams open and you jump, turning around to watch vander storm into the bar. "i'm gonna fuckin' kill him!" he shouts.

at the bar where she's eating maraschino cherries by the handful, jinx scoffs. "you say that every day, pops."

"you tell your father that if he ever tries to steal my fucking cocktail napkins again i'll strangle him." vander huffs. then he turns, and points at you. "rookie." he grunts.

you roll your eyes. "yeah?"

"go across the street and steal all their toilet paper. jinx, go with her."

"i got homework, pops!" jinx groans, desperate for any reason to get out of her dads' constant scheming.

"fine, go alone. take it all!" he demands.

you just shrug and prop your broom up, happy to have a reason to take a break. you'll take a roll or two, but leave enough for the customers to wipe their asses. you're not a monster.

sneaking into the eye of the city is easy, thieram gives just as many fucks about the feud as you do-- which is none. you grab a trashbag from the janitor's closet, then head into the womens' room, ready to begin your thievery.

you get about three rolls in your trash bag before the door swings open, and sevika bursts into laughter.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

you smile from where you're breaking into the next toilet paper dispenser. "you guys stole our napkins? so we're taking your toilet paper. don't worry, i left the stash in the janitor's closet there for you." you say.

sevika snorts and flicks the bolt on the women's room, helping you off the ground and pulling her in your arms. "hey, baby." she greets.

you smile and kiss her lips. "hi, sev." you whisper.

"it's gonna be a long fucking night for us. it's their anniversary." she says.

you groan, burying your head against your girlfriend's shoulder.

you didn't mean to fall in love with your should-be nemisis, what with sevika being silco's bartender and you being vander's. but-- neither of you have any personal stakes in the beef, and your attraction was impossible to deny, and one night as the two of you were trying to impress your respective bosses by shit talking one another, you ended up charming each other, making one another laugh at the insults you threw either way-- and by the time your bosses were leaving to pick the kids up from their after school activities, you and sevika were exchanging numbers.

and now, you're in love, and you're trying your very best not to let anyone know.

"it's surprising that the kids are all so well-adjusted given how stupid their dads are." you mumble. sevika laughs.

"you crashing at mine after work tonight or should i go to yours?"

"depends on what you want for dinner. yours is closer to that chinese place, but we could get italian if we go to mine."

"ooh, fuck, pasta sounds so fucking good. let's go to yours." sevika says. you smile and kiss her lips.

"sounds like a date, baby." you giggle.

just as you're about to leave her arms and head to the men's room to complete your stealth mission, the handle starts to rattle.

"who is it?" sevika calls, panicked.

"i gotta pee!" jinx calls through the door.

"it's not your week here!" sevika screams. she looks at you with a wild expression, both of you trying to figure out an alibi to explain toe jinx why you're locked in a bathroom together.

"pops ran outta cherries so i came here for more. lemme in!" she squeals.

sevika huffs, shrugs helplessly, kisses your cheek, then throws you over her shoulder. you yelp, and start struggling in her grasp.

she throws the door open and glares down at jinx. "i caught this rat spying on the last drop! stealing all our toilet paper!" she growls, jostling you on her shoulder. you muffle your giggles with your hand.

"lemme go you asshole!" you whine, wiggling in her arms, pinching her ass a bit. she jumps, and you bite back your grin.

"ugh, i don't care!" jinx whines. "get outta my way, i gotta go!" she shoves sevika to the side, then runs into the bathroom.

sevika sets you back down in the center of the bar.

"quick thinking." you giggle. sevika's still blushing from the pinch you'd gotten in on her ass, and you kiss her pink cheek. "see you later, baby." you whisper just as silco pushes into the bar.

you jump away from sevika, sprinting out of the bar like you're making a great getaway, and she chases after you, screaming to silco about your horrible theft.

vander berates you for only managing to steal three rolls, but you smile for the rest of the night.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months ago

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women into f1 - how are we feeling at the moment?

(edit - at the end of the day they’re all millionaires who don’t actually give a shit about anything other than their money and their name. just opening out a discussion, is all. I know there are no angels in this situation.)

I think media day today has really changed the way we’re looking at certain people and certain things.

Daniel calling possible SA/harassment allegations “noise and distraction” and saying “he hope it all goes away soon”. Valterri and Lance saying “I’m just here to drive cars.” Nico saying “it really doesn’t affect me.”

These are people with wives, daughters, sisters and partners that are in the paddock all the time. All you’ve got to say is something along the lines of I hope the investigation is impartial and thorough, the paddock should be a safe place for all, we should be promoting diversity etc etc… I mean. They’ve been PR trained and they’re still saying the wrong thing.

Lewis is the only one giving any sensible answers, which makes sense. He’s the only one that’s ever really put his money where his mouth is in terms of talking about diversity, equality, etc, and taking actions to match it.

There are millions of women/young women into the sport. Some like myself who’ve been watching since they were kids, some who are new to it. And once again, a male dominated sport has proven itself to be solely male centric, a sport built by men protecting men. These are drivers who want to talk about equality when it’s trendy, but only really care about themselves and their paycheck.

I could probably talk about this for hours, but I just wanted to open it out to any of my f1 girls here, because I’d love for it to be a discussion, rather than me just ranting. <3

#murph talks f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #saudi arabia gp #daniel ricciardo #nico hulkenberg #lance stroll #valterri bottas #lewis hamilton #lh44 #dr3 #vb77 #ls18 #f1 media day #red bull #red bull racing

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mihwee · 2 years ago

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"I just wanna eat him up."

Siyun Baek x M! Reader

SYS: You were staying over at Baek siyuns house, — Due to some unfortunate circumstances. your shirt JUST had to get wet. And it just had to rain. Whats up with these coincidences?

Well..Your both men right? Theres no need to worry. A little nap would be fine...

TAGS: NSFW. Blowjob, handjob, Deepthroath, dirty talk, Slight-ish taboo. CNC, Cum play, Cock Play. (He sucks ur cock when ur slesping 🔥 summary)

Warning: CNC. Harsh/explicit language as said, He does naughty stuff to your balls when ur over there pretending to be snoring (LMAOO) if your uncomfortable with that, you can leave. again MALE READER. no one is strictly top here so.....

MINORS UNDER 14 DNI. MINORS UNDER 16 DO NOT REQUEST. DNI :(fujoshis, Fudans alligned.)

Setting: His bed

A.N: Hey guys~ ive been gone for so long.... sordy~ busy with shs

By the way, you can request anything! Ive been catching up to the trendy manhwas these days, and trust me. Im not that picky when it comes to fantasies lolll . My friend just reccomended me this manhwa, and i told her im not really interested in romance. Pfft, the look on her face if she ever sees my account would be astronomical...

Siyun quietly sat on the bed. Staring intently at your sleeping figure. "Asleep already?" He thought, He hasnt even been out for 10 minutes. He hums, his fingers brushing over your hair, Your soft skin visible.

He felt himself flinch, Your soft breathing, the way you looked so peacefull on his bed. In his clothes, With HIm. He smiled a little, oh what Could have he been if your not there? He felt his eyes darken. You dont need those pesky pests that makes you miserable all the time. Just stay with him. Just say the word and he'll....

He softly mutters under his breath, his silver strands slowly falling onto your skin as he leans in closer. Enough to feel his breath against the corner of your lips. "Fuck."

As you feel him shift away from the bed, and eventually walk his way to the kitchen— you slowly turned around, and shot your eyes wide open. 'What the fuck was that??' You bit your inner lip, trying to compose youreself as you felt some heat creep up your face. 'So he really does like me...' you blinked profusely, Trying not to bite your nails.

You felt his lips graze onto your neck just a minute earlier, does he act this way even when im not around? You thought. Its not like your repulsed by actually finding out he likes men. Its that... you never believed someone like him, Likes YOU.

Your face heated up more at the thought of siyun liking you intimately. 'And its not to self loathe but there are many variety of optio'-

You tried to muffle your yelp as you felt a pair of hands dig onto the fabric of the mattress. Siyun came back. And to the best of your efforts, You tried to put up a best act. gripping onto a pillow and grunting, Laying upstraight.

Siyun watches a little, his eyes slanting as he observed your every move. Has he found out you were awake from the beginning? Ah, shit. But what suprised you even more, is that his hands were slowly spreading your legs apart. You closed your eyes tightly, hes infront of me? What the hell is he doing? You sweatdropped.

You felt him scoff from above, his raspy breath evident. You feel youreself twitch as he leaned down to your crotch, you feel like you could die right now. What is he planning to do? You gripped onto the pillow tight. Trying to hide your flushed face.

Siyun smirks a little, Hes never done anything like this before. And he knows fully well your wide awake, trying to pretend. He felt himself heat up. Your not pushing him away, you wanted this. You needed this. You needed his mouth on your dick. And your not exactly offended by the thought either. Lets just see how far you can go without fucking into his mouth, begging for more.

He hums lowly, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he let himself get comfortable beteeen your legs. He lets out a soft "Aah" sound as he opened his mouth, placing his lips just right above your clothed tent.

He kissed your bulge softly, letting his sharp canine graze onto your waistband. Slowly dragging out stiffled reactions from your mouth. His hand onto your thighs, and his face burried deep. So you can feel his every breath on your most sensitive spot. He chuckles slightly, letting out sounds of soft lip kisses onto your cock, his hooded eyes staring right through you in the pillow.

"Fuck, i just wanna eat you up." Siyun muttered, grinning quite widely, before letting his broad tounge lick a strip up your bulge. Your reaction evident as you gripped onto the pillow tightly. Barely managing to keep the gasp inside of your mouth.

He hums in satisfaction, His boney fingers tracing your cock slowly. Circling the wet spot as he rested his head oh so casually just beside your erection.

You cant see whats going on, yet you feel so sensitive. You cant help it, Fuck. Shoudnt you be stopping him now? Why... ah..

You feel his finger snap around your waistband, and slowly dragging it down to your boxers. Humming all throughout the way. As your pants was on thigh level, he felt like it was appropriate enough to start sucking you off. He licked his lips a little, flicking your boner with the tip of his fingers.

"Desperate little thing huh?"

As he whispers, he lets out a blow onto your tip. Feeling annoyed that he cant see your face. But sure, Lets play this game Y/N.

You let out a involuntary moan as he wrapped his lips around your cockhead, Feeling a stripe of his tounge dart out and take a taste.

Occasionally, beads of tears well up against your eyes as he licked up long stripes against your shaft, his teeth grazing every once in awhile. His hand pumping against your base as he slicked up your dick with spit. When did he even learn this anyway? Did he observe from "those" dreams or something?

You held onto every ounce of pride you mustered, to not fuck into his mouth. Feeling his hands firmly press against the sides of your hips and finally take you whole into his mouth.

"Mmghh...mmmh." he moans happily, letting his tounge slide around your cock as he hollowed his cheeks, his eyes glancing at you through his eyelashes. Your arms still gripping on that fucking pillow.

He felt his eye twitch, determined to make you cum deep inside of his mouth. To forget about those two Insects for awhile, and focus on him entirely. He tries to let out every lewd sound to drag out your reactions one by one.

"Ngahh..." he moaned, licking a broad stripe under your shaft, He felt himself redden. Your cock was twitching and resting onto his face. his lips pursed to kiss every vein on your cock.

Shit, you were so cute. Your little whimpers drove him crazy. Every time your hips Bucked involuntarily, it got his own dick hard. He should control himself. He should... Ah, ah.... what should he even do with you?

He kissed the top of your cock, before enveloping it once more into his mouth. Trying to hide his excitement as his throath clenched around your lenght. He bobbed his head up and down, slowly tasting every part. Slicking it completley wet with his salivia. His nose hitting your pelvis as he let his mouth get penetrated.

You bit your lip, hiding your face under the pillow as you heard his mouth elicit wet squelches. I wonder whats the look on his face? You huffed out. Cut and erratic. The normal you woudve been slapping him on the face already. If not, you woudve been slapping youreself too.

You tilted your head discreetly, your eyes half lidded as you took a short peek. Yet you felt your heart race even more.

—He was directly staring into your eye. Your dick making a dent onto the side of his cheek. He smirked, Letting go with a slight 'pop' sound.

Siyun felt your cock twitch under his fingers, He bit his lip in excitement. He cursed under his breath, and pushed your pillow aside. Gripping it under his fingers as he threw it on the wall.

You huffed out, drool pooling onto the shirt you borrowed from him. Your eyes wide open and looking above him. "I...uh- ugh..." you muttered, before getting cut off immediatley. The lips that sucked your dick onto your own, tasting your own precum.

You moaned into his mouth, your tounges Inexperiencedly exploring eachother. Yet you coudnt care less. You placed your palm onto his nape, as he bit your lip. Rubbing it against his sharp teeth.

Your breath hitched once more as his palm went back onto your hard cock, fapping it more faster than before. "....y/n... your so cute. Your so so cute." He whispered, His thumb onto your tip. Is this a good time to confess? Well no fucks sake.

You bit your lip hard as he moved his mouth to bite and lick your earlobe. Whispering sweet nothings as his hand continued to pleasure your cock. " Ah... hah.. You love this. You fucking love it. So... so stay with me. Forever. Please..."

siyun felt himself get more and more turned on by your moans and whimpers, Without even touching himself. He wants to pleasure you for now... He doesnt want to push you too far. He should focus on you only. He can come later on.

You let out a broken moan that sent his eyes wide open. The grip on your cock tightening as white spurts of thick liquid shot out. Your hips bucked onto his hand, covering his fingers with sticky cum.

"Ah... ahhh.... u-uooh..."

he smirked widely, letting go of your softening cock as he lifted himself up. Sitting onto your thigh. As he looked at his hand, he coudnt help but feel a sudden rush of adredaline. His face flushed with his own sweat, not even noticing his own boner thats weighing down inside his pants.

He moaned onto his fingers as he licked your cum, Letting the salty taste spread onto his tounge. And looked at your breathy figure underneath him.

His fingers caressed your bruised lips, before letting two of his fingers enter your mouth. Your eyes half lidded,... before slowly sucking it.

His eyes widened, grinning even widely than before. You tilted your head down to take his fingers deeper inside your mouth, holding onto his wrist firmly.

"Ahh..."

"Fuck."

Oh my gosh, well... i was thinking of doing a part 2. So thats why there wasnt any aftercare as of now, Where its either he rides reader, or reader rides him...

Its up to me anyways~ u can comment. Maybe i can get convinced to continue this hehe

#dreaming freedom #manhwa #dreaming in freedom #siyun baek #siyun baek x reader #siyun baek x male reader #male reader #fanfiction #yandere x reader #dreaming freedom x you #dreaming freedom x reader #siyun baek x you #yandere x male reader

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