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bunnysbrainrot · 5 months

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A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

#fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #bunny writes #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

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fraugwinska · 6 months

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Going with the times was amazing! Thank you so much. If I may can I get another Alastor x Reader who is a very affectionate person like always going in for hugs if she's close to them and she gets drunk and starts trying her hardest to give Husk a hug because he looks so grumpy, so he summons Alastor to come get his girlfriend. Who then gets incredibly happy to see him and just clings to him after he picks her up. Id also like to see Angels reaction to all of this.

You are awesome!

No, YOU are awsome! :> I do love Husk and Angel together, throw drunken Reader into the mix and we have ourselfes some chaos :D I sincerely hope you like it! <3

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Take the edge off

It had started so innocently.

For the first time since you met him, Husk had actually, actively invited you for an after-dinner-sendoff-drink at the bar, along with Angel.

Coming from him, the one that had been the most on the fence with you, you didn't dare to pass this opportunity. It was understandable though. Husk had a deep distrust in Alastor, and, by proxy, in you when he had introduced you to the surprised residents as his ‘courtship’.

You had visited the hotel often after that, staying for activities or dinners, bringing over some baked goods or homemade treats if your work schedule allowed time for it, lending listening ears and comforting hugs in spades to anyone who needed it and earned the admiration - or at least acceptance of your presence - from almost everyone over time. Almost.

Husk, ever the skeptic, had made it clear to you he wouldn't want to have any relations to demons who chose to stay at Alastor's side, let alone his ‘partner’.

But you stubbornly persisted, even though it had hurt, even though Alastor would pat your head and tell you it was wasted labor - you still tried, bringing an extra bottle of the herb sirup you knew Husk liked to spice his drinks with, or you tried to engage him in conversations about things you learned he was interested in. Now, your earnest efforts had seemed to finally been fruitful - instead of invading, you were finally invited to sit at his bar.

In all the nervousness of not fucking this up, you drank too much, way too fast. You were a lightweight on good days, but now, after five not-so-kid-friendly drinks in the span of less than an hour, you were… unhinged.

“I told ‘ya the last Gin Tonic was too much for her!”

Angel snorted with laughter, two hands holding you back from climbing over the bar to an aggravated Husk, arms outstretched and whining loudly.

“Huuuuuuusk, come on, just oooone!”, you struggled against Angels grip on your waist, eager to reach the furry demon and put your arms around him, “I give the bestest, bestestest hugs ever, you cannot not smile, I promise!”

Husk ducked with a mumbled curse, dodging your gripping hands when Angel temporarily lost grip on you because he laughed too hard at the chaotic mess that you were - normally his job, with Charlie as the babysitter - oh, how tables turned.

“Fuckin-... how the hell was I supposed to know that she'd turn into a goddamn demonic care bear?!” Husk grunted, pulling the feathery end of his tail out of your hands - you had caught it with delighted giggles and glee, and pouted when it slipped out of your fingers.

“Niffty! YO, NIFFTY!”, he bellowed, looking down to find her already at his side behind the bar.

“Shit, you're fast. Oy, go and get Alastor, pronto, tell him his friggin’ girlfriend is…” Husk was pulled back by his neck, a sudden weight on his back making him swallow the end of his sentence. You had managed to escape Angels restrictive hands, and slung your arms around the cat demons neck, nuzzling your cheeks into the fur on his back.

“Theeeere ya go! Feel the frown turn upside down!”, you sang, words muffled by his pelt, grip as strong as iron. Husk groaned, prying at your hands, but - to no avail and Angels absolute amusement - you tightened your hold on him the more he struggled.

Niffty tilted her head, clearly not fazed by what was happening. Angel heaved, clutching his chest as he tried to calm down enough to speak.

“Niff, just… pfff, stop that, leave his whiskers alone babe, holy shit, huh-huh, okay, okay… just run an’ tell Smiles to get his doll before she strangles Husky, okay?”

The little bug nodded eagerly and scurried away.

Angel turned to Husk, still a highly bemused grin on his face. “‘Ya know, having the radio demons lover hanging around ‘ya neck might earn ‘ya some major street cred.”

“Oh, you fuck off if yo’ can’t help.”Husk growled, trying to ignore your figure, still clutched onto him like a living backpack. “Get off me kid, come on, dammit.”

“But you're not happy yet.”, you said innocently, refusing to let go.

Angel gave Husk a meaningful look. “‘Ya know, she really does give great hugs, when she's sober and not batshit crazy drunk like this.”

“I don't need hugs, I need a fucking drink is what I need.”

“Huuuuusk…”, you whined again, quieter now, sadder. “Why do you hate me?”

Husk stood still, exchanging a look with Angel, who seemed pitiful now. He nudged his head to the two of you as a silent command: Say something nice. Husk sighed, patting your arm around his neck awkwardly.

“I don't hate yo’, kid.”

“Yeah you do… I just want to be friends, see your happy face, smiling… but you hate me…”

Angel narrowed his eyes at him, mouthing ‘Do better’, and he huffed.

“Jesus fuckin…, listen, I don’t like yo’ choices of men, but ...you're alright. Way better than yo’ bitch ass of a boyfriend at least.”

Angel opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of Alastor's signature jazz background music approached and he quickly decided to just sit back, out of the immediate danger zone but near enough to have a first class seat to whatever would happen now.

Alastor walked up with an amused smile and curious expression.

“Evening, my fellow friends. Niffty came to me with a cryptic message, about my darling doe strangling our beloved bartender?”

Husk scoffed, turning around so the radio demon could see you hanging on him like a koala on a tree trunk, pointing at you. “This yours?”

Alastor laughed, his face lighting up in a softness Husk had seldom seen before.

“Indeed, it seems to be.” He chuckled, stepping up to you. “Darling?”

You rose your head at the sound of his voice, smiling happily when you recognized him.

“Al!” He caught you with ease when you jumped from Husk’s back straight into his arms, patting your back as you locked your arms around his waist. “My, those two did their diligent work, you are quite inebriated.”

You giggled into his coat. “Yup, I am hammered like a rusty nail!” You lifted your head, beaming up with tired eyes at his bemused grin. “And Al, guess what! Husk said I'm not an ass like you, so he doesn't hate me anymore! I’m alright!”

Husk, who rubbed his sore neck, froze at your words, quickly shooting the radio demon a glance. Static crackled and for a second, he shivered from the licks of electricity running over his spine, making his fur stand up. But nothing further happened. Alastor just smiled at you, ignoring the cat demon completely, and ruffled your hair. “How good for you love, you did it afterall! But it’s late now, why don’t you stay here tonight?” “That’d be nice…”, you sighed, sleepy and exhausted.

You let his waist go, only to wrap your arms around his neck as he scooped you up to carry you. Angel and Husk gawked at the scene before them, questioning reality as Alastor, of all people, pressed his lips to the crown of your head, which made you humm and turned to leave, leaving the bar without so much as a cheerful "Good night, chums.".

Angel leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands in his hands, watching the pair disappear in the dark with an amazed expression. "Man, she really takes his villain-y edge off, doesn't she? Kinda scary how she gets Smiles to almost behave human." Husk poured himself another drink. "Scary doesn't even cut it." He took a huge swig, but he still had to grin.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic

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bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 10 months

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We can have Andrew and Ashley (separately) dating reader who is a singer/guitarist in a Punk rock band, who has a somewhat cynical, indifferent personality but is quite kind when you get to know her.

But there is a problem, she is possessed by a demon and needs to kill or drink human blood to survive (just like that movie Jennifer Body feat. Megan Fox)

Friggin love Jennifer’s Body- hell yeah anon!

Ashley and Andrew Graves x Possessed Punk Rock!Reader

Andrew Graves

You met Andrew after he went to watch your band play. He came up to you after the show and started up a conversation with you.

You were the best part of the band in his personal opinion

You’d heard this all before, and like always you went along to get on his good graces

Honestly- you had full intention of eating him until he started some playful banter with you

You both just bounced off of each other so well

“Alright, so- it’s the zombie apocalypse and you have to team up with 2 other people at this bar.” Andrew was leaning against the bar, he phrased it like such a serious question, “Who you picking?”

“Hmmmm…” you hummed, turning your attention to the cluster of people, “Probably that guy-“ you nod towards one muscly frat dude chatting with his equally muscular friends, “He looks like he could punch some zombies. Dumb and fearless, ya know?”

Andrew chuckled, “Ahhh, so you’re into beefy dudes, huh?”

You gave him a deadpan stare before rolling your eyes and smirking a little, “Nah, if anything he’d be a sacrifice to the undead horde. I’m more into sickly looking emo dudes.”

A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, he turned to look at the crowd, “Soooo- does that mean I’m on your apocalypse team?”

“Not in the slightest,” you leant back on the bar stool, “It’s about survival, and no offense hun- but you’re usually the first to die in those kinds of movies.”

Andrew dramatically clutched his chest, giving a faux harmed expression. You playfully shove him to wipe the look off his face. He laughed a little as he sat back up in his stool.

“Alright, alright-“ you wave your hand towards him, “You can join my apocalypse team. We’ll team up to sacrifice the big dude.”

“You’re too kind.”

He was fun to talk to, what can ya say?

You ended up feasting on that frat bro after Andrew left- but not without giving you his number

You two hung out a bit after that- and Andrew became a regular at your shows

You even started inviting him to rehearsals to sit and watch

You make him a shirt with the band’s name on it as a joke- but he wears it constantly.

He’s a dork, but soon enough…he becomes your dork <3

Which is why you were nervous to tell him the truth about you

“….I’m sorry you’re what?”

You winced at his words. There- was no easy way of telling him this, but- you don’t know. It feels like the right thing to inform your partner you’re actually possessed by a demon and crave human flesh and blood.

“I’m possessed by a demon,” You turn away from his, rubbing your arm anxiously, “It- happened when I was 17. Some fucks tried to offer me as a sacrifice to a demon to make them famous and- well, now we know the reason virgins are sacrificed for demon deals.”

Andrew blinked, and a silence fell between you two. He turned away from you, his eyes fixed on the ground,

“….you know my sister is friends with a demon.”

You scrunched up your nose in confusion, turning to give him a look of “What the fuck?”

He held his hands up defensively, “Hey I don’t know! What else was I supposed to say?!”

“I don’t know!” You threw a throw pillow at him, “You’re the first person I’ve told!”

Andrew caught the pillow, placing it gingerly on his lap, “Well- I’m not a stranger to this whole…demon stuff. Can’t say I’ve dated one though…”

Your eyes widened. You looked at him in disbelief, “You- still want to date me?”

“Well- yeah.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t obvious, “You’re not gonna eat me- I’d assume at least.”

“Nah,” you gave him a small smirk, “Not enough meat on ya.”

You received a pillow to the face in response to that. You broke out into soft laughter, Andrew shortly joining in. This…went better than you thought it would.

From then on Andrew helped you with finding food. He’d scan for potential meals at your shows and direct you to them after.

He seems way too experienced in this sort of thing

Ashley Graves

That relatable moment when you’re about to feast on this guy, but this cute goth chick was about to sacrifice him to a whole other demon <3

After a show you had planned on following this couple and devouring them both- you were really hungry

Low and behold- the girl led her date into the woods and summoned a whole ass demon to take his soul

She noticed your presence as she was getting ready to move the body and-

“….sup.”

She said that as if trying to move the soulless body of a grown ass man in the middle of the woods was the most normal thing in the world. You were- dumbfounded honestly. Apparently you were staring for too long, as the woman dropped the corpse’s arms and crossed her own,

“You gonna scream- or are we going to be chill about this?” She tapped her foot as she glared at you, “Don’t make me offer another soul to my friend.”

“Ha! Good luck with that-“ you stepped out of the bushes, shaking off any leaves that stuck to your pants, “Your friend would just be confused why you’re offering them their own kind.”

She looked you up and down, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yeah- look. I’m possessed- and I was following you and that boy toy of yours to have some dinner.” You pointed to the corpse between you two, “So I’ll do you a favor and get rid of this body for you.”

The woman rubbed her chin, looking down at the body. She then grinned deviously, “Hmmm…you mind if I join you?”

Your eyes widened. Was- she being serious? Did she want to chow down on this guy with you?

Apparently she could notice your confusion and shrugged, “Well I was going to eat him anyway. Was thinking of grilling him- some salt, oregano, paprika as seasoning. Help me carry him and you’ve got yourself a 5 star meal.”

This has to be the most insane woman you’ve ever met. Is this what love feels like?

“Sure thing-“ you reach down, hoisting the man’s arm around your shoulder, “Names Y/N.”

“Ashley Graves.” Ashley made no effort to help you carry the body, just leading you along as your struggled.

And thus started a beautiful friendship!

Ashley sacrifices a soul, you two eat the soulless body. Win-Win!

As you hang out more outside of your hunts, Ashley learns about your band

She’s not happy that you have friends outside of her, but she goes to your show anyway

She claimed that everyone sucked except for you

“We should just eat them,” Ashley suggested, her chin rested on your shoulder.

You glance at her before speaking, “No can do- I’m not eating my band mates.”

“Fine-“ she huffed, shoving you away from her, “Then I will!”

“Ashley- No-“ you groan, turning around to look at the currently pouting woman, “Look, I have a life outside of you ya know- don’t like it, don’t come to the shows. Nothing wrong with keeping things professional between us.”

Ashley went quiet at that. She hugged herself, turning away from you.

“…what if I don’t want to be professional?” She muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

You blinked down at her, “You- what?”

“We get each other! I want to keep doing this, and I don’t want those ‘bandmates’ getting in the way.” She glared up at you, “You…You like me too, right?”

You did. You’d be lying if you didn’t find her general unhinged-ness hot, but you couldn’t kill your band.

“Hey, look-“ your voice went soft as you took Ashley’s hands into your own, “I…like you too Ashley, but we’re not eating my band. If I’ve been ignoring you for them, I’ll- cancel rehearsal tomorrow so we can go do something. Just us. Sound good?”

A small smile formed on Ashley’s face as she nodded, “Yeah…that’d be great.”

You may be the possessed one here, but Ashley Graves is a whole other level

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #ashley graves x reader #x reader

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obeymematches · 5 months

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Cheer up MC!

You were disappointed. You almost failed your ancient spell exam and you were disappointed as hell. Of course your day is now ruined.

Lucifer:

• Although he understands how you feel and thinks you need to feel the disappointment you feel now to be better in the future (what a dick), he can’t let you hang your nose the entire day, can he?

• He does the classic thing; takes a piece of stick-it note and writes on it.

• As he is sure you are in your room, he knocks on your door and slides the note under it.

• You sigh as you get up from your bed.

• „Thinking of you. Take all the time you need, I’ll be waiting for you in the garden.”

• There he waits for you under the garden lights with a table and only two chairs. He prepared some fine wine for you.

• You spend the evening talking and expressing your feelings of disappointment.

• He is quick to reassure you; ask him to help you next time, or even better, he can give you a private lesson or two, so your success is guaranteed next time.

Mammon:

• AH. Can’t have you be sad for 1 minute!!!!

• Doesn’t know why you are sad, doesn’t even care, he only cares about cheering you up ASAP.

• His best bet is making you go out!

• However you don’t really feel like dancing or drinking tonight.

• Well anyway he must disappear now!

• When he comes back he has chocolate, balloons, some crisps with him! He even got you a flower!

• No it is not too much he is on a mission here!

• You smile a lot and maybe even tear up a bit depends on how you handle these kind of stuff-

• He is more than ready to cuddle you by the way!!!

Leviathan:

• Okay so do you know that game you always play together but you are friggin stuck??

• Well he does ALMOST beat the boss but he absolutely needs your support now!!! What is his worth without his partner-

• If getting past that part doesn’t interest you now he would just cuddle and put on your comfort anime for you! Perfect time for a marathon afterall!

• It always works for him so maybe you’ll feel better too!

Satan:

• Of course you must be blue right now, he know exactly how much you prepared as he was right there with you the whole time.

• But if you don’t cheer up soon he might threaten the teacher to give you another chance to write this test-

• He is there to do whatever you want, he might even do the stuff he always turns down.

• If you don’t feel like doing anything then it must be more serious than he thought originally.

• So he decides to write you a love letter, that could probably work, right? (If you are already in a relationship!)

• He tells you all the reasons he loves you and how much he appreciates everything you do and how YOU make his days better than ANY book ever could!

• If you are not dating he’d make you solve some kind of mystery, he came up with the idea in about 10 minutes.... but it does make you think and forget what made you upset in the first place.

Asmodeus:

If you are sad he is sad! That is the rule!

Comforts you with cuddles but doesn't let you stay melancholic for more than half an hour.

He would start putting on some nice music, maybe you'll get to go out tonight and forget about it all!

If you decide to go out he makes sure you'll be the centre of attention at the party; you get all your favourite drinks, the DJ only plays songs you like, you end up having a good time out!

However if you don't feel like dancing he'd make you a romantic bath with candle light, lots of foam and rose petals! It's what you deserve babe! It's what you deserve!

Beelzebub:

• Oh damn the last thing he wants is to see you sad and mad at yourself.

• The test didn’t go too well for him either so he really gets you-

• He offers you to join him on a bike ride through town!

• It makes you move and makes you feel much better right away.

• On the way of course you must stop and eat dinner somewhere.

Belphegor:

• Honestly if you want to relax and chill he is your best bet!

• Ready to take a nap and maybe you’ll feel better after!

• But he also doesn’t mind cuddling until you feel loved.

• He is caressing your hair, your back, your face

• Can tell you all the sweet nothings in the world, doesn’t mind talking a lot if his voice calms you!

#obey me #obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me hc #om hcs #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #obey me x y/n #obey me x reader

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ivymarquis · 1 year

Text

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #x single mom reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #my writing #now I gotta name this bitch because I totally plan on a whole series and the other characters can’t be calling her love all the time lmao #i wrote and coded this whole thing on my phone because my laptop has once again quit on me

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libraford · 10 months

Text

I like the collection of hippie weirdos that I end up meeting at the shows I do, but...

... yall have got to stop pushing 'medicinal teas' on people. I'm pretty sure it's illegal.

I was having a mild asthma attack because we were in a very dry farmers market and the vendor across the way said-

"Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you, I have water. It's just asthma."

Doesnt take my 'no.' "Its medicinal, cures what ails. Clear that cough right up."

"My asthma? Really, I just need to wait it out."

She pours me a cup anyway from a huge jug. Its yellow. "Im a healer. Just try it. Its herbal, will clear all that right out of you."

The only way for me to get out of this trap is to do it. So I try it. Its green tea with what feels like rosemary and mint.

And then.

"It will also treat your anxiety, make you feel good for the rest of the day."

"You mean its psychoactive?" She gave me a psychoactive for my friggin asthma?

"When I take it I can spend all day just swaying to the music."

Ok but what the fuck???? You dont just administer 'feel good teas' to your neighbors and not tell them that they do that. I wasnt having an anxiety attack, I was having an asthma attack, they're two VERY DIFFERENT AILMENTS. I did not require a mild sedative, I required a throat lozenge.

And she spent the rest of the day eyeballing me to prove that it was working, nodding when she saw me dancing- when I was hired for this show TO DANCE.

Your drink didnt do that. That's my normal.

And you should inform people when you're doing that holy shit.

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urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites · 5 months

Note

Hey hey! I was wondering if you could do the greasers with a hyperfeminine reader? 🫶🏽

Sureeeeeee pookie

The Gang x Hyperfem! Reader

(Tried to find accurate pics but there’s like none on friggin google- ps I could only find pink but hyperfem doesn’t necessarily mean always pink! And Hyperfem can be an umbrella term for many aesthetics (Lolita, coquette, old money, etc. that help you embrace a youthful look and femininity!)

Ponyboy Curtis

-he sees you sitting under a tree, studying one day

-and he’s like Whoa

-the background is fitting, it’s just begun spring and all the flowers are blooming around you

-quite fitting indeed for your flowy dress with light pastel heels

-he really loves your style

-and loves that you embrace your femininity

-he would try to get you things that he thinks you would like

-he smiles when he sees a pretty fabric that reminds him of you 😊

-he compares you to a lot of similar women he sees on screen with similar style (Marylin Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, etc. maybe not time period accurate but whateverrr)

-“Hey uh Y/n! I saw one of those girls that dressed like you in the movie the other day!”

-absolutely draws you

Johnny Cade

-he thinks you’re stunning

-he really loves your style and how it stands out from most people

-I think fashion wise you two contrast pretty well with you wearing more lacy things and him wearing a jean jacket

-just an aesthetically pleasing couple tbh

-he calls you things like “lovely” “love” “princess”

Sodapop Curtis

-he also adores your style

-you two fit like a key and lock

-I think for even his time period sodapop is the most embracing of his own femininity

-and he loves that you can appreciate yours

-he would let you doll him up for fun

-like putting lace or bows in his jeans and hair

-he shrugs it off whenever the other greasers give him shit for it

-he’s simply above their opinions

Darry Curtis

-he’s stunned when he sees you

-you look as graceful as a swan

-his illusion is quickly destroyed whenever you fall on a rock, right in front of him

-and before you fall he quickly catches you

-and you awkwardly get up, uttering a small thank you with an embarrassed smile

-which he thinks is adorable

-I love you guys yall are such perfect husband and wife vibes

-he loves your outfits and you both are such opposites fashion wise

-💀he throws on whatever is clean

-while you spend thirty minutes deciding what to wear

Dallas Winston

-oh, he hasn’t seen a broad like you since New York

-he thinks you’re amazing

-all dolled up

-you two definitely met when he was catcalling you on the street (why is it always Dallas 💀😭)

-and you know walked up to him, in pretty neat strides despite your heels

-and gave him a hard slap (poor dal I always make y/n slap him)

-(cuz he needs it)

-but anyway he’s kinda like whoa… you’re feisty. Don’t worry, I like that. (bc he would say that 😭)

-and you would roll your eyes at him, giving him a polite hand gesture

-before storming away in your heels

-I don’t even know how he’d manage to date you it would take months of effort

-but once you both are dating you’re pretty cute together, and you try to make him less of an asshole

-(which idk what voodoo you pulled out to make that happen but it eventually works a little)

Two Bit Mathews

-when he sees you his jaw drops to the ground

-he really loves your style

-he touches the lace and various things a lot in admiration

-he shoplifts things for you that he thinks you’ll like

-“Aw, Two! This is so nice! But, where’d ya get it?”

-“Y’know…. Don’t worry ‘bout it, y/n.”

-he makes jokes but their kinda more just about admiring your outfits

-he’s really proud of you

- drinks less when you both are a couple

Steve Randle

-he pretends to not be super impressed and amazed at your style whenever you walk into the gas station

-but he totally is and talks to Sodapop about you way too much

-“Hey, but, did you see that one chick, y/n? With all the pretty clothes and stuff?”

-sodapop makes him talk to you next time you’re at the DX

-you actually think he’s pretty cool and you two hit it off really well

-even if you both have different styles and hobbies you both love learning about eachother

-he remembers all the small things, what perfume you like, what lipgloss is your favorite brand, etc.

#urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders headcanons #two bit mathews #johnny cade #the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis

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shallowseeker · 13 days

Text

Oh, the hilarious thought that Ellen and Jo both had the hots for Cas.

(((It tickles me ever since I thought it.)))

As we start the scene in 5x10, Ellen is playing music, a Spanish song, Oye Como Va by Santana.

It's a party!

(Rrr, flavor!) ¡Rrr, sabor! (Hey how it goes) Oye cómo va (my rhythm) Mi ritmo

They're playing a well-known party game, sure. They're bartenders at a roadhouse, so this is an everyday thing for them, maybe, but oh oh oh.

The interest.

Ellen is maybe like, "We'll do shots and see how drunk he gets. Who knows? Maybe it'll make him handsy."

ELLEN: All right, Big Boy. Let's go.

Now, it's true. Ellen is flirty and, like many of the prickly, defensive characters, deals professionally with innuendo.

But something tells me this isn't a game Ellen would play with Dean or Sam.

But a guy she wants to <OMITTED>? Ahem. Well. Yeah.

And Cas mimics Ellen, holding his pinky out, upending the glasses, and holding intense, challenging eye contact.

And Ellen...

This is the face of "Holy crap." But if you squint, it can also be read as "Wow." Or even "Hubba, hubba."

Yeah. No kiddin,' Cas.

So is Ellen, right in the <OMITTED>.

///

And Hell. Maybe Jo feels something, too. That's a slow, spreading, breathless-ey sort of smile that reminds me a little bit of Mick Davies.

"Whooooa."

///

ANYHOO.

The music (Santana) continues in the background while Dean and Sam talk strategy, and it's clear the music is coming FROM the kitchen, from Ellen's and Cas's little impromptu party.

We hear laughter, and Dean looks up at the sound. And yes, Jo looks scrumptious, but there's also... everyone's fawning over friggin' Cas? He's not even trying!

Cas isn't cool!

Right?

In the background, snippets of dialogue come through>>> ELLEN: "Damn, he can drink." JO: "Haha, Mom, but you need to stop." ELLEN: "Drink up!" JO: "I'm gonna get another beer."

///

Dean shoots his shot so so awkwardly that it's endearing.

(((Watch this, Cas. I'm the cool one. Women fall all over me, too.)))

///

Heehee. I love him.

///

And after all that, it book-ends with Cas giving the last-night on earth speech, but in a depressing, earnest, way.

(((Dean voice: Well, Jo. Not that anyone's asking,but it would probably-definitely work on me. Wish it'd work on one of you, though.)))

///

BONUS: The next day, Jo immediately starts pigtail-pulling Cas.

*fiddles with her hair, dons a slight smirk*

*smiley smile* Then, teasing: "Ever heard of a door handle?"

When she sees that Cas has gone into *SERIOUS MODE* she's rattled. She looks to her mom pleadingly, because...

If someone like CAS is unsettled, maybe they should be scared, too.

#what if ellen wanted to <BLEEP> cas actually #the idea hasn't left me alone since i thought it and now i'm laughing so much #like ellen has feelings for bobby #jo has feelings for dean #but some implications from jo's side materials are that she hero-worshipped cool guys like gordon #she's definitely intrigued by cas #oh no my ellen wants to fuck cas meta turned sad #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #dean: hey you need to learn you to cloudy-seed and be cool #cas is on earth for five seconds: gets symbolized as a married man with kid #cas: i am not someone you should put your trust in kelly #i am not father material #ellen: ok sure but you can ride in my car <3 #and you can ride (omitted)

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abitohoney · 2 years

Note

Have I already sent you an ask about Sevika having a vibrate setting/function in her mech arm?

...

On the chance I haven't, here's an ask requesting your thoughts about Sevika having a vibrate setting/function in her mech arm lol.

Merry Crimmus!!!

No ma'am, I don't believe you have. So thank you for double checking as I have thoughts. 😈

My filthy thoughts below the cut... (NSFW, MDNI) Not sure I need to say this, but this is F!Reader

OFC her augmented arm has a friggin vibration function! What kind of sex goddess would she be without it?! (I mean, honestly, even if she didn't have one, she'd still be the BEST at leaving your mind blown, your thighs soaked and your mouth foaming.)

You think her strap game is brag worthy? Well, the shit she can do with that scary ass arm of hers will leave you fucked stupid for DAYS. No need to thank her either. Your dripping cunt and face of pure euphoria is thanks enough.

"C'mere, Sugar," Sevika calls to you, curling one of her dangerously sharp metal fingers in a come hither motion.

Obediently, you make your way to the booth Sevika currently occupies. Her booth. The same one she sits in every night off while she smokes, drinks and gambles the night away. She's just finished her last game of the night and is starting to count her earnings, of which you note are considerably higher than usual.

"Sit on Daddy's lap." She pats one of those deliciously thick thighs of hers while her lips curl into a smirk around her cigarillo. "Keep me warm while I count my winnings."

Smiling sweetly down at her, you set the drink you'd just fetched for her on the table beside her empty glass before taking a seat on her left thigh. Her prosthetic arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to her warm, solid body before resting her hand on top of your thigh. You recline back against her, the side of your head nestled in the space between her metal shoulder and her neck. Through her cloak, you can hear the muffled soft whirring of the fan housed near her shoulder. It's such a familiar sound, one you could only associate with her, and it's almost... soothing.

Removing her cigarillo, Sevika whispers a sweet, "Thanks for the drink," before pressing a kiss to your temple. Cigarillo held between her fingers, she takes a sip of her drink before taking a slow drag.

Watching the tendrils of smoke curl into the air, you sigh contentedly then turn your attention to Sevika counting the silver and gold coins piled on the table. You can't help but wonder what she spends all that coin on.

As if hearing your thoughts, Sevika brings her mouth closer to your ear to whisper, "Bought a nice upgrade for the arm a few days ago."

Assuming it's another weapon related feature, you reply with feigned interest, "Oh yeah? What is it?"

"Been itching to try it out," she replies, not really answering your question.

"Why haven't you yet?" You ask, knowing she's fishing for attention. Wants you to show how fascinated you are with her mech arm, or her in general really. Your eyes roam The Last Drop, searching for something to entertain yourself with while Sevika brags about whatever the hell she added. Unfortunately the bar is nearing closing time, and only a few patrons remain, mostly more of Silco's goons. Even the music is boring. Something soft, slow and quiet. Meant to drive the stragglers away.

"Waiting for the right opportunity," she replies, and it doesn't go unnoticed how her metal hand slips beneath the hem of your mini skirt to rest on the inside of your thigh. Not that those teasing touches are anything out of the ordinary from her, but you welcome that distraction right now.

Your mind starts to drift to... dirty thoughts as you just barely listen to her prattle on.

"Now seems like a good time," she husks, but the words don't fully register and you simply offer her a hum in response. "Think you can be quiet for Daddy?" She asks, and you feel her sleek metal fingers travel higher up your skirt until they rest against your clothed heat.

Fully tuning her out now, you're too busy watching those thick, callused fingers of hers move coins into neat stacks, imagining them buried deep inside your-

"Fuck!" You gasp, body lurching upright when you feel unexpected vibrations between your legs.

"You said you'd be quiet," Sevika hisses in your ear, her mech arm tightening around your waist and pulling you back against her.

"Sevika!" You whine softly. Her metal hand is currently pressed fully against your cunt and... and fucking vibrating! You squirm in her tight hold, trying desperately to get away before you start making inappropriate sounds, but she's not letting you go anywhere. Wide eyed, you frantically search the room to make sure nobody is watching the two of you. Even though it seems your little outburst has gone unnoticed, you still feel a rise in panic as those delightful vibrations threaten to break any control you have over your own damn mouth.

"Seems that was a good investment," she teases.

"S-Sevika," you stammer, "Not here!"

Sevika chuckles, sinfully low and cocky. "Nobody can see anything, Sugar. Now why don't you just lie still like a good girl and let's see how many times I can get you to cum while I finish up, hmm?"

"Y-Yes Daddy," you whimper.

Turns out she equipped her arm with numerous vibration settings. With each orgasm she draws from your trembling body, she finds a new setting that allows her to make that next one come quicker, harder. By the time she's finished counting her earnings, not only have you lost count of your own earnings, you're left so fucked out she has to carry your ass all the way back to her place.

But she doesn't stop at the vibrator function. This woman has a whole collection of attachments for her arm.

She'll use each one to play you like an instrument, have you hitting all the high notes (and even the low).

Making your way to Sevika's bed, you notice a large wooden box sitting on the nightstand. Having never noticed it during any of your previous stays, you peer down at it in curiosity. Running your fingers across the hinged lid, you realize something has been etched into the soft wood.

Pleasure Chest

Pleasure Chest?

"Sevika, what the hell is this?" You ask as you eye her suspiciously from over your shoulder.

She comes to stand beside you, lips curled into a smirk. "Can't you read, Sugar?"

"I can... but what the hell is 'Pleasure Chest' supposed to mean?"

When she simply arches a brow, it becomes apparent that you're just going to have to determine that yourself. One hand on either side of the lid, you slowly flip it open.

Oh for fucks sake.

"Seriously?" You ask as your eyes roam over a series of what are obviously attachments for her augmented arm. And not just any type of attachment. Nothing functional like blades. Nope. They are all designed for pleasure. Your pleasure, if the unmistakable cock shape is anything to go by. Hence that awful label she carved into the lid. And as if that wasn't absurd enough, she went so far as to have the case within velvet-lined and shadow-boxed to fit each unique piece.

Noticing a handle in the center, you lift it to reveal even more attachments in the bottom of the box. Setting the top tier back in place, you turn to Sevika, barely able to contain your laughter. "Is this what you've been spending all your gambling money on?"

"Go ahead and laugh, Sugar. Get it out of your system now, because tonight we're going to test each and every one of these, and you're going to thank Daddy for such a generous gift." She watches your expression closely, a wicked grin painting her face when your smile falters.

With a precise twist, push and pull off her metal hand, she disconnects it from what would be considered her wrist. A shimmer tube and several colored wires dangle between the sections, which she deftly disconnects before setting her metal hand on the nightstand. "Now be a good girl for Daddy. Strip and get your ass on that bed."

Your gaze flits from what is now a socket where her hand once was, to the attachment she's pulling from the chest. It's considerably more... soft and stretchy looking than some of the others. Like it's wrapped in loose skin. Realizing it has mating connectors for both the wire and the tube, your eyes blow wide.

Oh shit.

What the hell could she possibly need those for?

Your eyes shoot to her smug face, silently pleading for an explanation. When she doesn't supply one, simply just raises an expectant brow, you realize you haven't obeyed her orders.

"S-Sorry Daddy," you stammer quietly and immediately crawl onto the bed to start undressing, your eyes looking anywhere but at her while you hear her connect that... device to her arm.

Completely nude, you lie on your back, shifting and rubbing your thighs tightly together. You don't know if you should be terrified or excited for what she has in store. In all honesty, you're experiencing quite a bit of both when you feel the bed shift beneath you as she slowly crawls over you.

Her face hovers over yours for a moment. She just grins maliciously at your nervous expression, clearly enjoying watching you squirm with anticipation. And that's just as nerve-wracking as the possibilities running through your mind.

"Spread your legs," she demands, and you can feel her probing the apex of your thighs with the bulbous head of the attachment. You do, but almost immediately try to close them again when she suddenly, and unexpectedly, activates the shimmer in her arm. That was definitely not one of the possibilities you'd considered.

"Sevika," you cry out, startled and terrified at the prospect of her being hopped up on shimmer for any part of this. Her purple orbs glint with sadistic mirth as she forces your legs open with her thighs. Her human hand snatches both your wrists and pins them above your head, leaving you helpless beneath her.

And then, as that initial surge of fluid and electricity dies down, you hear what sounds like... a piston... or something pumping? Your eyes, still blown wide with surprise, slowly drop to the source of the sound. Between your legs is her augmented arm, glowing and pulsing with the power of shimmer. And that fucking attachment of hers is... thrusting.

"Now let's see if we can beat our previous record. How many times did you cum for me in the bar? 5? 6? Oh that's right, you don't remember, do you, Sugar? Fucked you too stupid, didn't I?" She sneers.

Judging by how many devices she has in that box- at least a dozen more- records were certainly going to be broken tonight. Right along with your vocal cords and your ability to walk for the next week. Not that you're complaining.

AN: I blame @master-sass-blast for giving me the Daddy kink. I didn't know I needed to call Sevika Daddy until I read her latest Sevika fic. (Go check it out if you haven't already. It's delicious!) Hope you're proud of yourself, Sass! 😆

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika imagine #arcane sevika x reader #honey writes

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 1 year

Note

Hi hi can i ask for some GFL girls with a S/O that repairs them after missions thanks anyway

(GFL) M4A1, M16A1, AN-94, AK-12, AK-15, and G36's S/O repairing them

This'll be kinda short, but I hope you still enjoy their characterization!

M4 moved her arms around, hearing the servos work as they should.

She turned to S/O with a grateful smile.

(M4A1) "Thank you, I hope I wasn't too much trouble today."

(S/O) "As long as you come back at all to apologize, I'll take it."

They put away their wrench as they handed back her equipment.

(S/O) "Besides, you do a good job on not getting all banged up. Not like SOPMOD, anyway-"

(SOPMOD's Voice) "You sure don't complain when M4 is! I bet you'd like to see all her internal systems, you-"

Both S/O and M4's faces contorted at the crude statement, turning them both into blushing messes.

ST AR-15 walked by and hit SOPMOD on the head, rolling her eyes.

(M16A1) "Ow, ow ow! Hey, take it easy, you're pulling a bullet outta me!"

(S/O) "M1, your pain sensors are disabled. You shouldn't be feeling anything."

Her fake hurt expression vanished quickly.

(M16A1) "Yeah I know, I just wanted to see how you'd react."

They simply sighed, failing to resist a smile from forming.

(S/O) "Then quit squirming. Sooner I get this done, the sooner you can go to rest."

(M16A1) "Yeah, we gotta hit the bar after thi-"

(S/O) "And no drinking. I don't want anything getting all messed up before I get to run diagnostics tomorrow morning."

She pouted, crossing her arms.

(M16A1) "Psh, buzzkill. Sounding like a doctor."

(S/O) "Technically, I am your doctor."

(M16A1) "You're a friggin' engineer!"

(S/O) "Same difference."

M16A1 continued to pout, making S/O's smile grow even more.

(AN-94) "Thank you as always, S/O."

94 always remained completely still during her repairs, which S/O was grateful for.

The other T-dolls on base were not always cooperative, but then again they weren't as advanced as DEFY.

S/O nodded and had 94 stand up, which she quickly gave them a salute.

(S/O) "It is just us right now, 94. No need to be so formal."

94 opened her mouth, realizing what she was doing and quickly averted her gaze.

(AN-94) "Ah. I apologize, it's a force of habit."

(S/O) "I know, I know. Now, how about we relax for a bit? You must be tired after the mission."

(AN-94) "I do not become exh-...Er, yes. I'd like that."

12 simply hums as S/O tunes her legs back into working order. Given how advanced she was, they didn't need to perform too much maintenance.

She never got that damaged during a mission anyway.

(S/O) "There we go. Give your legs a shake.

12 put her legs over S/O's shoulders, smiling even more once she heard them yelp.

(S/O) "H-HEY!"

(AK-12) "Seems like they're working to me.~"

Gently putting her legs back, S/O makes an exacerbated sigh.

(S/O) "So they are."

(AK-12) "Hm, I think there's one more spot not seeming right on my che-"

(S/O) "It's working just fine."

(AK-12) "My, are you staring at them?"

(S/O) "Good lord, woman..."

(AK-15) "...I'm detecting heat rising to your face. Are you alright?"

S/O was making sure 15's arms were looking right with their hands.

But the more they thought about it, it just seemed like they were feeling her muscles up.

Even though she was just a T-Doll, boy did she have muscles.

(S/O) "N-Nothing. Just...your arms are nice."

(AK-15) "..."

(S/O) "I-I mean they're working nice!"

(AK-15) "You do not need to be so flustered. This is not the first time you have felt them."

(S/O) "Well no, but still. I don't want to seem like I'm just a perve-"

15 grabbed their hands to make them stop talking before holding it more gently.

(AK-15) "I do not trust many people to work on me, S/O. Remember that I ask you because I trust you."

(S/O) "...Right."

(AK-15) "...You do seem to like touching the biceps however-"

(S/O) "Oh, come on!"

G36 nodded in satisfaction once S/O was complete.

Before they could even give her the thumbs up, she immediately walked off, but not before thanking S/O.

(G36) "My thanks as usual, S/O. I will make you dinner before I attend to my other duties."

(S/O) "H-Hang on, I haven't even finished diagnostics!"

(G36) "By the time I will have completed my chores, you will have finished your meal and it will be time for me to enter the repair bay again. Rest assured you are in good hands. As I am in yours."

Bowing, and giving a light peck to S/O's cheek, she vanishes.

(S/O) "Psh, I'm supposed to be the one helping you out...Good hands, huh?"

#girls' frontline imagines #girls' frontline headcanons #girls' frontline x reader #m4a1 x reader #m16a1 x reader #ak 12 x reader #an 94 x reader #ak 15 x reader #g36 x reader #m4a1 gfl #m16a1 gfl #ak 12 gfl #an 94 gfl #ak 15 gfl #g36 gfl

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herejusttosufferalong · 2 months

Note

Hello, SEX anon again.

Been a while. Gonna try this sober. God bless my soul.

Soooooo.... what's been happening? Not much, you say? Everything's going swimmingly? Not much to report. Like a big pizza pie? That's amore, you say? Hah cringe, death. OH GOOD! I had this weird feeling like things were getting messy? Like impending doom. Like walls crashing in on me. Suffocating me. DROWNING IN A SEA OF MY OWN GODDAMN TEARS. Killing me softly with his song. No, all good, yes? We good? We fine? Oh, for the love of Lukola, what a relief.

It would be incredibly embarrassing if I lost myself... became too dramatic, too obsessive, too unhinged. Getting messy, talking about 'it was all PR, god damn it'. Sobbing uncontrollably into my 'Polin 4eva' t-shirt. Can you imagine? NO, ffs. You ain't getting that from me. I'm stability personified. Try to shake me, make me shook... uhm, nah... not happening. I'm a goddamn beacon in the darkness. Hard af. And you are too, Suffer. I like you. You are a nice boulder. That sweet spot of self-aware delulu that fills me up, just right.

I dunno, anyone else got a sadistic smile plastered on their face, or that just me? I never knew part 3 (or is it 4? 5? fked if I know) could be so fkn good. It has everything. Sun, sea, self-annihilation. Everything. Some critiques though. Just one or two. Just... a few notes. Look, like everyone else I'm a sucker for the mirroring of themes, but I dunno, it's getting a little repetitive, no? Seen one orgy, seen them all, right? And the new cast? Uhm, like, I see that they're trying... I really can. But Shonda? Jess? Tom? You might want to have a word to casting. I dunno, like. What are they going for? Friend, foe, fkbudy? It's really hard to tell. It's giving... mummy paid for my acting classes and slept with the producer. Sorry that was unfair... mummy didn't pay for acting classes coz you self-taught, baby. You a star, look at you, friggin' twinkling. Big smile, baby... twirl... fkn death. On an unrelated note, anyone got some Tums? Nicotine? Heroin? Big goddamn sledge hammer with my name on it? No... ok. Shame.

But you know what, that main character, w/e his name is, fk he's good. Portraying emotionally disconnected, hanging by a thread, cognitive dissonance like a fkn pro. I'm impressed. Oh wait, that's Ol' Col', you say? Mr Fingerton? Really? Oh yeah, I shoulda known. Shoulders so broad them eclipse the sun. Thighs so thic them part the seas. How much you bench, bro? Answer: Me. You: What? Me: Yes. Fk, I remember him. But hasn't he played this sequence before? I thought we resolved these demons? No, oh, something about a siren song? Something about Pinocchio? Real bohy, invisible strings, suede clogs? Speaking of, where his Queen? She know he's on vay-cay teaching swim school on screen? She gonna be there too? Dressed for the occasion, tatas on show? Run sequence? Glistening, heaving... Sorry, uhm, where was I? Oh yeah... how come when I close my eyes all I see is his finger in her mouth? Oral fixation by proxy, isn't it? Mhmm. Nice.

Eh... you know what, I changed my mind. This part is all A-grade material. I can't tell where fiction starts and reality ends, and you know what, that's the place I like to inhabit. Coz you tell me tomorrow that Lady Tata and Ol' Col' been together 4 years, expecting their 5th child, maybe first grandchild? I'll drink it, I'll snort it, I'll bathe in it. And you know what, I just know you would too... slutty smirk.

The main character needs to come on home

💜🥃

#this is all opinion #sex anon #feeding my delulu daily #i will die in my delulu

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arcanarix · 2 months

Text

The Right Way Ch. 2 // Toji Fushiguro X Reader

AO3 (+ previous chapter)

What a goddamn menace.

A man of his stature showed manners in dining but not in charming a woman’s panties off.

Well, you had to admit everyone had their vices—some more than others. You only met the man, and you were able to gauge a number of things about him. He liked to carelessly spend his cash as if his wealth were the equivalent of breathing, and he even got you a private booth in the restaurant he chose for you to fine dine. You were taken aback by the lavishness of the place. Especially since at first glance, Toji seemed like your everyday bum. All the guy wore was a compression shirt and a pair of friggin’ sweatpants, for crying out loud!

But his choice of dining stated otherwise. Every element of this restaurant whispered time-honored luxury, exuding sophistication. With a unique blend of rustic imperfections and a dash of opulence, each careful detail retelling a tale of historical grandeur.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he grunted, opening the menu, and scanning down the endless list of entrees.

As a waiter came by to pour them their glasses of water, he also greeted them with the typical: “Would you like anything else to drink?”

“No, just the water’s fine, thank you,” you replied, lips curving upward. While you didn’t think of yourself highly, you always remembered to treat wait staff with the highest regard. They deserved recognition the most—dealing with the trashiest of customers was no easy feat and you didn’t want to make their lives any harder for them. “We do need more time to order, though”

“I’ll get my typical,” answered Toji, as he handed his menu already.

“Coming right up, Toji! I’ll let the lady take her time,” he winked while patting Toji’s shoulder and sauntering off.

“Didn’t think you were all fancy,” you commented, wraggling your eyebrows.

“I’m not, but a friend of mine owns this place. I get everything half off.”

You tilted your head, interest a little piqued. “Ah. So you’re a bit more frugal than I expected.”

Toji’s lips curled into that wolfish grin of his like when you first saw him take down that band of bad guys. “Sure.”

In an attempt to hide your oncoming flush, you glanced down at the menu, met with a vast array of options. You were more than overwhelmed and being as indecisive as you were, how the hell were you going to decide what to get at some fancy dining place?

Noticing your mild distress at the prospect of too many choices, he chuckled, pointing at a segment of a menu to snag your attention.

“Their dumplings are fantastic,” he suggested, and you ignored the fact that his fingers lightly brushed against yours.

“Oh!” you blinked, following his finger. “Um. I guess I’ll get the veggie and soup dumplings then.”

“Excellent choice.”

The waiter returned with Toji’s typical order—which were the meat dumplings. A variety of them. That seemed very expected for some reason. Smiling, you told the waiter your order and handed him your menu as he refilled your glass of water.

“Why did you run away that time?” Toji asked out of the blue, moments after the waiter had taken your order and you had been idly sipping on your drink.

“You can’t blame me for being scared. I was ganged up on by different men, and then you took them down like they were nothing. I thought you were going after me next. I had to bolt.”

“I just wanted to take you back home,” he replied in an earnest tone. Your eyes widen, more in disbelief, and you laughed.

“Sheesh. Sorry. Again, you can’t blame me for getting spooked. What else did you expect to happen when a girl was about to get jumped by a bunch of big scary men?”

Toji grinned as he bit down on a pork dumpling. “Fair enough.”

“So, what was up with those guys, anyway?”

“…Probably just territorial,” he replied, but his tone seemed like it was wavering a little, like he was hiding something from you, something you were better off not finding out. “They looked like a gang.”

“Yeah. I mean, a weird one. One of them had hearts on his nipples. That was kind of hilarious.”

Toji snorted as he sipped on his drink. “Hilarious and yet that is one of the most dangerous men out there.”

“Maybe that’s a way to throw off his competition or something.”

“Who knows?” he laughed, “I’m sorry. I know tracking your address probably isn’t the best way to go about things, but something drew me to you.”

“How were you able to do that without any details, anyway?”

He didn’t answer. You stared pointedly at him, hoping he’d break his resolve because you knew you had a death stare from the depths of Hell.

When that failed, you took the loss with class.

“You know what, it’s probably best that you don’t answer that question.”

“Yes. I’ll spare you the details.”

He ran his tongue past his lips as he helped himself to another dumpling. Chewing through it, he pondered over what else to say.

Cliches be damned, your senses zeroed in on the squelching as he chewed on the dumpling and him gulping it down. Some of the oil from the dumpling dribbled a bit down the corners of his mouth and rather than dabbing with a napkin he caught the droplets with his tongue instead.

You almost wished you were that dumpling.

You diverted your attention, twiddling your thumbs. During that time, your order arrived, served piping hot and ready for you to chow down, and you couldn’t remember the last time you had soup dumplings. Clapping with vigor, you grabbed your chopsticks and tossed one soup dumpling in your mouth, chewing down, keening as the liquid hit your tastebuds.

All this time you were oblivious to Toji observing your excitement over food.

“Wow, those really are good,” you complimented as you took another one, smiling so big that your face was cracking. You paused, meeting his eyes, and you flushed at his expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just got… hold on.” He brought his hand to your face, took his thumb to brush off some leftover soup droplets on the corner of your mouth.

You blinked once. Then twice. You took note of how large and calloused his hand felt on your face, but you didn’t mind it. You almost leaned into the warmth, like it felt right. Secure. Fitting like the final puzzle piece.

“Sorry. Am I overstepping?” he asked.

“No!” you squeaked. “Speaking as if you didn’t already overstep when you stalked me.”

“Touché,” he smiled, taking his hand back. “Maybe I do have a chance.”

“I never said you didn’t,” you chuckled, “Just that there are less… forward ways to charm a woman.”

“You’re definitely right about that,” he conceded, glancing down at his now emptied plate but far from satisfied stomach. “Might have room for seconds. Would you like dessert?”

You glanced at your own plate, which was nearly empty as well. “Sure. What do you like to get? We can share.”

“Hmmm. Can never go wrong with Daiyaki.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

. . . . . . . .

Toji offered to take you for a stroll around Shibuya, and not minding the thought in the slightest--especially considering that bloat baby you needed to walk off anyway—you clung onto his overly swollen, muscular forearm as he led you out of the restaurant. Apparently all of that food was on the house. He didn’t have to pay a cent which he was over the moon about, and so were you.

The bustling district of Shibuya lived up to its rumors. It came alive in the night just as the media described it would—dotted with pubs, bars, and clubs, lined with glowing neon blues, reds, greens, and yellows. Giant illuminated billboards and massive screens flash animated advertisements. The people just below were lost in their own worlds, reflected in their unique street styles. Some screamed spunky, some screamed classy, and some just for a casual night out.

“Wow,” you breathed.

You didn’t realize the entire time you were observing your environment, Toji observed you, admiring the way your eyes twinkled, awe-struck by the life surrounding you.

He pulled you in inhumanely closer to him, so much so you could inhale the faint scent of his cologne—some musky, earthy, citrusy notes…

“And what a breathtaking view you are,” he murmured, as his nose brushed against the crown of your head.

If he kept talking like that…

Flushing a deep scarlet, you stammered: “You trying to charm my panties off like you planned from the start, hmmm Mister Fushiguro?”

“Mister?” his jaw dropped, then he laughed. “I’m not that old.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Maybe not, but maybe I’m into older men,” you quipped with a huff.

He laughed again. “Why? Does my plan have a shot at working now?”

“You have a better shot than you did initially,” you admitted, nuzzling closer into his chest as you continue to stroll down the sidewalk with him. A few blocks down, an animated advertisement of a boba commercial began to play.

It helps that you’re also so fucking hot I could die, you mused to yourself, but you didn’t think to inflate his already overinflated sense of importance. This guy definitely had quite the ego on him already.

“I’ll take whatever I can get, even if they’re practically breadcrumbs.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that notion. It’d been a while since you’d had a date with someone who actually cared enough about impressing you for real, instead of boasting about being a finance bro and his latest investments in crypto or in real estate or something.

As… impressive as those feats were, you were interested in something a little more intimidate and a little more connected. Call yourself old-fashioned, but you wanted traditional romance and a traditional marriage. Maybe you wanted to ‘just be a housewife.’ You were tired of working your damned ass off at five different jobs only to barely get by. You were happy to have your man, whoever that man was going to be, provide for you and take care of you, because you took care of him, however he wanted you to (within reason, of course). You were a team. That was what marriage was supposed to be like.

Too bad in these modern times all these people were interested in was a quick fuck and go.

You weren’t that simple. Well, actually, you were. Just not like that.

You didn’t like the idea of just being some quick fuck or someone’s “person who got away.”

You had no time for it. You refused to accept such treatment. You wanted real. You didn’t expect it with someone like Toji who for sure was waaay out of your league and so deliciously your type, but if by some strange miracle the odds were in your favor and the stars aligned for once in your damn life and this worked out? Hell! You wouldn’t complain one bit.

“Something on your mind?” Toji snapped you back to reality and you glanced up to see him smirking down at you. “Seemed a little lost there.”

“Sorry,” you replied, “Just enjoying the walk.”

An eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “Really? Not tired of me yet?”

You whacked his hip before you loosely wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Oh stop. I’m having a great time. This is the most relaxed I felt in a long time. So… thank you.”

“No need, the night’s still young. Do you mind if I take you back to my place?”

That snagged your attention. “Sure! I, uhm, that’s not taking things too fast, is it?”

“If you don’t feel comfortable, we don’t have to.”

“Toji, I feel more than comfortable after spending time with you already.” Maybe you didn’t have the best judge of character, but who were you to know anything at all? Thus far this guy just seemed to be full of (pleasant) surprises, and you were open to more.

“Good. That makes me glad. In that case, we’re already almost there.”

“Is that where you’ve been leading me this entire time?” you teased, “You’re not that slick, huh?”

“Not consciously,” he admitted, but you could easily sniff out a white lie. You were going to spare him the embarrassment by not calling him out on it, though. He could have this one. He scooped you up by your bottom and carried you the rest of the way princess style.

“Maybe I just want to hoard you to myself. Don’t want the night to be over.”

For some reason, that was the most flattering compliment you had ever received. The warmth around your heart was foreign but welcome, so welcome. It wasn’t warning bells or red flags, for once.

“Enjoy my company that much?” you giggled, sticking your tongue out.

“More than I care to admit.”

As he carried you to his home, one of his hands rested on your inner thigh, tracing patterns on it. You gasped, half-lidded eyes rolling up to gauge any emotion out of him but he was pokerfaced. Completely composed like he wasn’t committing something scandalous in the middle of the streets. His streets sure, but so fucking what? He inched his hand closer to your intimates, but you didn’t protest. You didn’t understand why exactly, either. Suddenly any and all caution you had before ceased to exist.

The skin close to your intimates was so damn sensitive and your breath caught in your throat again.

“Toji…” you whispered, hand reaching to rest on his pecs, admiring how sculpted and firm they were to your touch. He did work so hard. He was so fucking delicious in every sense of the word, and you wanted to get to know him too.

He breathed your name in response, glancing down at you with those dragon-like green eyes with such intensity that it knocked your soul out of your body.

“Can I?” he murmured, voice heady, and suddenly the air between the two of you grew staticy and electrifying yet you still felt safe around him.

You nodded, eyes remaining locked on his.

Hearing him groan, you braced yourself as he quickly led you into his home. You didn’t even get a moment to process anything because from the moment Toji shut the door behind him, he pressed you to the wall and plunged his lips to yours, desperate and wanting like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

He pulled away once your once plump lips were red and raw from contact and he took a moment to admire his handiwork before nipping your lower lip.

“God, you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“Moi?” you replied, your tone incredulous as your knee pushed up between his legs to rub against his growing erection, matching his classic wolfish grin as he choked on another lewd groan.

“You little brat.” One large hand of his encircled hour neck, finger pads digging into your soft, supple flesh. “Maybe I ought to fuck that pretty mouth.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you purred, wondering where all of that caution had gone already. Tossed into the wind, maybe, because Toji was making you want to be a little more adventurous, a little more reckless, a little more free, even.

Something unnameable flashed in his mesmerizing eyes. Nothing dark, nothing lustful. Something else.

“Maybe you deserve something a bit better than that.”

You were impressed with the sudden affection in his tone, the shift in his demeanor. From aggressive to caring in nanoseconds.

His thumb traced your now dry, cracked, red lips. All thanks to him, you reminded yourself.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Toji continued to shock you with how tender he seemed in that moment, like this really mattered to him. “Because, gorgeous, I like you. And I respect you a great deal. I just want you to know that before we continue. Do you understand?”

You blinked, but nodded nevertheless.

“Good. So you’re sure?”

You nodded again. A little shyly.

“Good.” His other hand’s grip on your neck tightened just a smidge, his thumb pressing into your throat. “Because believe me, gorgeous, what I’m about to do to you might negate what I just reassured you just now. I just want to make it absolutely clear to you.”

Desire pooled in your groin at those words, and you stifled a whine. Toji chuckled, prying you off of the wall and leading you to the living area and resting you on the plush couch instead.

He captured your lips in another heated kiss and forced his tongue inside, smirking against your mouth as you gasped from contact. He pulled away just a bit to trail his tongue along your lips before going for another kiss again, devouring you whole.

You felt overwhelmed with a man his size on top of you, practically melting into the cushions beneath the two of you. He trailed sloppy, filthy, open-mouth kisses down your neck, hands flying to squeeze your ass.

“Toji…” you murmured, hands moving up to cling to his shaggy hair. You wanted him closer somehow, yet he was already as close as humanely possible.

He marked your milky, supple skin up, symbols meaning you were his one way or another. You honestly liked the idea of being exclusive.

You wanted a serious relationship, right?

“Such a fucking menace,” he growled, mouth trailing dangerously close to your intimates, nose hovering just over your shorts. “Got to teach you a fucking lesson. Someone so beautiful shouldn’t be such a goddamn brat…”

Beautiful?

You hadn’t heard that one before.

Not from someone who meant it.

“Please… I want, I want…”

“Patience,” he replied, pulling down your shorts and tossing them unceremoniously to the ground before nosing your clothed pussy. Instinctively, your legs constricted around his shoulders and knocked him in closer, nose pressing into your clothed clit.

“Patience,” he repeated, sound vibrating against the fabric and you whined again.

“Please…” you pouted this time, praying this would make him give in, but his resolve didn’t crack.

“I’m going to take my time taking you apart, gorgeous. And I’m going to milk every second of it.”

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