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ghoulphile · 5 months

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janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears.

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood.

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog.

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

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thehauntedetheral · 2 months

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hi, how are you doing? If is not a bother can you make a yandere ex fuckboy x insecure reader, she is insecure of his past and the girls he used to stay with before they start dating and is terrified of him cheating on her, that bothers the yandere a lot and he goes to the extreme to prove to her that he doesn't want anyone else.

Hello I am doing well and hope you are doing well too. I hope you like this work.

Yandere Ex Fuckboy X Insecure Reader

Requests are open!

• You were always on edge thinking that your boyfriend is with some other girl cheating on you when he is not with you.

• You love your boyfriend a lot. And he has been an amazing boyfriend to you all the time being caring, protective, sweet, understanding towards you. But his past. His past always haunts you and makes you feel insecure.

• In the past before you two got into the relationship yan was the Fuckboy of your college. Girls always surrounding him and being attracted to him like a moth to a flame as he was tall, good looking, rich and extremely good in bed with his smooth as butter flirting skills and charming personality.

• Some even say that he slept with more than half of the girls in campus.

• But after meeting you this man gets changed for forever. He has never felt something so strong like this for anyone ever.

• He tries his best to court you. Begging to you on his knees to make him your boyfriend. This man becomes a simp when it comes to you.

• But you ignored him knowing his infamous Fuckboy image.

• To get your attention he follows you around like a lost puppy, Spoiling you with flowers, meals, coffee anything you want just please let him be your boyfriend and let him love you.

• Frustrated by his constant chaos you finally give him a chance and say yes.

• He tries his best to be the best boyfriend for you not wanting to disappoint you on the chance you have given him. And true to his words he is a really good boyfriend to you.

• You don't know that this is the first relationship yan ever had. Yes he slept around a lot but never dated anyone. You are the first.

• When he gets to know his love, his darling is feeling insecure due to his past he does all the possible ways to show you that he belongs only to you and no one.

• Wearing tshirts which have things like this written all over it " My girlfriend is hotter than you" or "I love my girlfriend" while walking around the campus showing everyone. If his tshirt doesn't have this written on it then it definitely will be a photo of you printed all over his tshirt.

• Wears the handmade bracelet you made for him 24/7 not taking it off ever.

• Always wears your hair ties on his wrist in case you need it and to show people he is already taken by his beautiful girlfriend.

• Is one of the best player of the college's football team and whenever he earns a goal during the matches he dedicates his goals to you pointing at you and screaming "I love you y/n" infront of the whole crowd.

• By the way he changes his jersey number to your birthday date number showing his jersey back to everyone.

• When a girl from his past approaches him he straight up says "I have a beautiful girlfriend whom I love to death so please leave"

• This man is so in love, committed and loyal to you that it's sickly disgusting for others to watch.

• Everyone thinks you have done some kind of witchcraft on him because he has suddenly became the most loving boyfriend for you from the college's Fuckboy.

• This man would do anything for you to never be insecure again that he would even say this "We can get engaged or even better married if it puts your mind to an ease y/n."

Meanwhile reader : "........"

• This man would kill himself before even thinking about cheating on you and hurting you. The thought of some another girl other than you now makes him nauseous let alone even think about touching them.

• Yan is utterly whipped and in love with you. He would even bring the fucking world infront of your knees if you want.

Let me know what you think about this fic.

Requests are open !

For more yandere reading

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tojisun · 11 months

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…yea sure why not?

baker!simon who’s known for the bit he’s got going on – something you wished your friends would’ve told you because the first time you walked into the niche bakery (at six am to boot) and saw simon, big and tall and inked and masked simon, you screamed bloody murder.

“jesus-!” he yelled back in surprise, almost dropping a tray of freshly baked shortbreads before whipping his head up to see what was going on only to feel like he’s been punched in the gut because there you stood by the entrance, bundled up with thick jackets like you’re preparing for winter even though fall was just settling in, your hair a haggard mess and your face gaunt from exhaustion, and looking like all parts of simon’s dream woman.

“um,” you stammered, staring at him with wide eyes and trembling hands, your heart hammering in your chest as you began to panic. “i, uh. i’m…?”

simon watched as you continued to stammer before finally taking pity on you. he placed the tray on the counter and turned to fully present himself to you, spreading his arms out in hopes that it would show you that he’s not dangerous. that you would see his flour-covered apron and see that all he’s got going on in life is baking, and then instantly be enamoured with him.

“you here for breakfast?” he asked, clearing his throat upon hearing the awkward croak of his voice. thank god for his mask because he was able to hide the flush of his cheeks, allowing him to continue to play it cool in front of you.

“yes?” you replied, still confused as to why the… baker? was wearing a homemade skull mask.

“sure,” he said and you watched as he wiped his hands on his apron. “come over here then. what’d you want to order?”

baker!simon who isn’t really a big sweets enthusiast but whose desserts are the best in the block. you asked him what made him pursue this career and you watched as he stilled, his face falling slack like he can see something you couldn’t – like he is reliving a memory – before shaking himself with a deep inhale and finally whispering, “for my brother.”

you did not probe any further, your heart heavy with guilt, but simon just turned to you with a small smile and asked, “wanna hear about ‘im?”

he gathered you in his arms as he recounted the few fond memories he has of his childhood, and you breathed him in, smelling the faint smell of macaroons and toasted butter on his skin.

baker!simon who begins dedicating his daily special treats to you. “for the apple of my eye,” when it’s apple fritters day. “for my beloved cheri,” on cherry pie day. “for my precious sugar,” on sugar cookies day.

baker!simon who proudly prances around in his frilly pink apron that has “husband material” embroidered on the chest. you gave it to him as a gag gift but simon loves it so much that he began to wear it to work, showing it off to his friends with a deep chuckle.

“my girl got it f’r me,” he says to johnny. “pretty, isn’t it?”

johnny nods amidst laughter, his body folded into himself as he clutches the counter for support.

fuck. baker!simon might even be better than biker!simon

#suns.hc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #suns #IM ACTUALLY GOING INSANE WHY DO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH #ghost x female reader

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incorrectbatfam · 1 month

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Here's a fun one: what ruins a sandwich for them?

Alfred: Soggy bread.

Barbara: Wilted lettuce.

Duke: Tomatoes.

Harper: Onions.

Cullen: The wrong cheese.

Helena: Peanut butter.

Selina: Pickles.

Carrie: Mustard.

Tim: Miracle Whip.

Bette: Seagulls.

Cass: Hair.

Jason: Cement.

Damian: Asbestos.

Luke: A bug landing on it.

Dick: Dropping it on the floor. :(

Kate: Finding out someone died.

Bruce: My kids eating it.

Steph: Someone yelling, "HEY, THAT'S MY SANDWICH!"

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kimstills · 6 months

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i can see you

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?” content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader. word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao) notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333

aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.

he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.

and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.

but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.

no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.

it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.

you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn��t returned to your seat.

it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.

the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.

the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.

while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.

aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.

he cleared his throat, “what?”

aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.

“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.

he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”

aaron’s brows furrowed.

“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”

aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—

his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.

from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.

he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”

you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.

michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”

although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.

before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”

ew.

this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.

aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.

you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.

the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.

“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.

a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.

“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.

aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.

you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.

“use your words, honey,”

the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.

you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”

aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.

not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.

aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.

“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.

he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”

“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.

he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”

his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”

“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”

aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.

he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.

you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.

aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.

you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.

his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.

he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.

aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.

as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.

a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.

“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.

you whimpered, “just for you,”

“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”

you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”

his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”

with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.

oh shit.

your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.

he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.

you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.

“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”

you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.

he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.

you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.

you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.

“still good, honey?”

you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.

smack!

aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”

you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”

“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.

humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.

“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”

he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.

you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”

he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.

you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.

the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.

“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”

you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.

his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.

you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.

“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.

“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”

you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.

“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.

“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.

you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.

“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”

it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.

the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.

you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”

he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”

that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.

you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.

he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.

“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.

you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”

he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”

your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.

he pinched your nipple.

#marchhotchness #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #maddie’s stills

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bussyslayer333 · 2 years

Text

it’s all about you

summary: 4 times Jake thought about marrying you and the 1 time he did.

pairing: jake seresin x girlfriend!reader

word count: 5.9k

warnings: allusions to smut throughout, mentions of alcohol, swearing, jake being whipped!! MDNI 18+

“Cookies or Brownies?” you hum, rifling through your kitchen cupboards.

“Cookies, we’re not monsters babe.” Jake replies seriously from where he’s stood behind you, checking out your ass.

You snap back up with a cheer and the brown sugar you were looking for in tow. Jake quickly diverts his gaze in favour of not getting caught and decides that your fridge magnets are suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

His intense inspection of the little windmill stuck to your fridge has you snorting, quickly turned into a squeal when Jake pats your behind with a little more force than intended.

“Jake!”

“What?” He spins around as if to look for someone else who could have committed the offending action.

“You’re stupid.” You giggle, jutting your hip out to hit his own.

Jake reciprocates the action before finally picking up a wooden spoon and smacking it against his palm loudly.

“Where do you need me chef?”

“Fold the butter into the brown sugar,” you instruct, “softly.”

Jake rolls his eyes purposefully obnoxiously and sighs loudly, “I know.”

“Don’t make me remind you of cupcake gate.”

Jake’s attitude drops, “we agreed not to bring that up.”

“I play petty Seresin, now fold. Gently.” You sass.

Jake chuckles at your demeanour and gets to work, following your orders to complete the cookie dough.

Once complete and set to chill in the freezer, Jake goes to leave the kitchen but instead watches on in amusement as you pace around anxiously. After your third rearrangement of the trinkets on the window sill he interrupts.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

You sigh dramatically and throw yourself into his arms.

“I’m nervous.”

Jake snorts, “why?”

You pull back from where you face was smushed into his chest and pout, “don’t be mean. I’m scared they won’t like my cookies. Or me, for that matter.”

Jake’s thumb strokes absentmindedly over your cheek in an act of comfort.

“All kids like cookies. Fact.” He states, “and they’re gonna love you because they love me and I love you.”

“I don’t want to be their uncle Jake’s lame girlfriend who makes bad cookies.” You bite at your pushed out lip.

“You won’t be, now let’s bake these suckers.”

Jake pats your ass playfully as you bend down to retrieve the cookie dough.

“Put the oven on.” You order.

Jake mock salutes, “yes, chef.”

You run through about ten outfits before finally settling on what to wear, and as you brush through your hair once more, the doorbell goes.

You can hear Jake and his sister talking downstairs as well as the excited giggles of his nieces. When you finally descend the stairs Jake’s sister is smiling up at you.

“It’s great to see you again!” She gives you a one armed hug, the other holding the girls backpacks.

“You too!” You look down to where the girls are holding on to each of Jake’s hands, “and it’s great to meet you girls!”

The younger of the two immediately leaps forward and grabs onto your hand, “I’m Ellie, you’re pretty,” she singsongs.

You bend down and wipe at a smudge on her face, “Not as pretty as you!”

Ellie giggles determinedly and turns back to her mom to smile.

“Ellie, Olive, be good okay?” Jake’s sister nods her head to the two girls before looking back up to the two of you, “and thank you for looking after them on such short notice.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “you know it’s fine, now go have fun.”

“Thank you!” She smiles before kissing the girls on the heads and making her exit.

You look back down to the girls, Ellie is still clinging onto your hand with a smitten look on her face. Her golden curls are kept in two pigtails with small scrunchies. She’s adorable and can’t be older than 5.

When you avert your gaze to Olive, she seems to blush slightly. She is partially hidden by Jake’s large frame but you can still make out her blue eyes and long, mousy brown hair. She looks much older than Ellie, probably about 9 or 10. Much more reserved as well.

“It’s nice to meet you Olive!” You beam.

She nods in your direction, “hi.” It’s almost a whisper but you smile in acknowledgement anyways.

“Jakey I’m hungryyyyy,” Ellie drags out the “e” sound of her Y.

“Well that won’t do will it, Ellie bellie?” Jake teases, dropping Olive’s hand in favour of scooping Ellie up into his arms.

Olive chuckles awkwardly at the commotion and fiddles with the straps of her bag as Jake carries Ellie towards the kitchen where the cookies are almost finished. You can sense a small amount of anxiety radiating off of her, you were similar at that age. Never quite feeling in place. It suddenly becomes your duty to make sure she understands it’s okay.

“I love your hair, it’s so long!” You smile comfortingly at her, reaching out to fiddle with the ends.

She leans more into your touch and speaks quietly, “thank you, I- sometimes I think it’s kind of boring.” She shrugs.

“It’s really beautiful! I wish I could grow my hair that long,” you hum, inspecting the completely undamaged strands of hair.

Olive smiles up at you, “I just wish I could do more hairstyles with it.”

“I could braid it for you? If you would like that of course?”

“I would really like that,” Olive nods.

She lets you lead her upstairs where you sit her in front of your vanity with all your hair and makeup products. You watch fondly as she “oohs” and “ahhs” at the products on display.

“Tell me if I hurt you at all okay?” You question as you brush out her mostly untangled hair.

Olive nods in understanding, “can you do two french braids?”

“Of course!”

You sit in silence for a few moments as you brush and part her hair. You can feel her gaze on you from the mirror.

“You okay?” You hum.

“You’re really pretty, y’know? Way more than Uncle Jake.”

Her words make you giggle, “Your Uncle Jake is very handsome, why else would I be with him?” you tease.

She snorts, “I figured it wasn’t because he was clever.”

You try not to laugh too loud at her quip and bite your lip, “he has his moments.”

Olive rolls her eyes and mumbles “sure” and once calmed from your laughter you’re able to start on the first of the braids and talk to her more.

“How’s school?” You question absentmindedly.

“It’s okay,” she answers. Olive opens her mouth again as if to say something else, before closing it again.

“You can tell me,” you affirm.

“Promise you won’t tell Uncle Jake?” She asks.

“Pinky.”

She quickly intertwines her little finger with yours before beginning.

“There’s this boy,” she blushes as she sees a grin spread across your face, “he sits next to me when we do science, and he’s really cute.”

“What’s his name?” You ask, trying to keep your face neutral.

“Trey. But I don’t even think he knows my name.” She sighs.

“I’m sure he does, Olive, especially if he sits next to you.” You reassure her.

“I mean he only really talks to me to ask for help, but one time he told me he really liked my shoes.” She gushes.

“That’s a good sign Olive,” you confirm, “if a boy likes you he’ll make sure to compliment you, don’t settle for a boy who doesn’t make you feel special, promise me?”

Olive nods diligently, “promise.”

You make a little “aha” noise as you finish with the first braid and begin to move onto the second.

“Did Uncle Jake do that?” She ponders.

“Hmm?”

“Make you feel special?”

You nod your head as your fingers move nimbly through her hair, “he asked me out five times before I said yes.” you giggle in remembrance.

“Five?” Olive chuckles.

You’re not quite sure how to explain to Jake’s niece that you thought he was something of the manwhore before he finally professed his feelings for you.

“I wanted to know that he was committed,” you decide on.

“Uncle Jake really loves you. I heard him on the phone to my mom yesterday and-”

“Stop spilling all my secrets would ya?” Jake quickly interrupts, butting the door open with his foot.

Ellie is propped on his right side holding a plate of what you can assume are your cookies. She and Jake had long gone through the sheets of her My Little Pony colouring book and had decided to come find the two of you and share the cookies that were quickly depleting.

Olive giggles, “sorry Uncle Jake.”

“It’s okay kid,” he grins and plops Ellie down on your bed before coming to stand behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pecks you on the lips quickly.

Olive and Ellie both pull faces and Jake laughs, “I thought that’s what you wanted to do to Trey, Ollie?”

Olive gasps, “how do you know? And no I do not!”

Jake taps the side of his nose teasingly. You roll your eyes and quickly finish off her braid, flipping them over her shoulders.

“Done.” You pat her head and hope her anger will diffuse.

“Thank you,” she smiles brightly at you, but returns to shooting daggers at Jake just shortly after.

“Cookies?” He offers up as a peace offering.

Olive still keeps up her impressive pout.

“I made them babe don’t worry,” you provide.

“Well in that case,” Olive reaches for a cookie and takes a hefty bite, her eyes widen considerably, “these are so good!”

“Thank you!” You smile, brushing at the crumbs that had accumulated on her cheeks.

“These are the best cookies ever!” Ellie proclaims from where she is now chowing down on another cookie.

“Hey! I thought we said no more?” Jake frowns in faux anger, plopping down on the bed next to Ellie.

“You said that, not me!” Ellie giggles.

“You got me there, bellie.” Jake sighs in defeat.

Ellie throws herself into Jake’s arms and gives her best puppy dog eyes.

“Can we watch a movie?” She pleads.

“You wanna watch a movie, kid?” Jake pokes Olive.

Olive looks to you and you smile, “Yeah,” she nods.

An hour later, you’re all squished onto the couch watching Frozen. Ellie is long past waking up and is spread out across the “L” part of the couch snoring quietly.

You’re tucked into Jake’s side and he’s fiddling with your hand, he hasn’t been watching the screen at all. Instead, watching your features and the way Olive will point out her favourite parts and songs to you. He particularly enjoys her version of “fixer upper” which he presumed might be dedicated to him. He enjoys even more so when by the time the film ends the way that Olive is dozing off on your shoulder and the way you’re stroking softly at her arm.

“They love you,” he coos into your ear.

“I’m glad,” you hum, “I really love them.”

“Olive is never like that with anyone, she’s usually so shy.” Jake explains, placing a kiss at your temple and then tucking your head under his chin.

“I was like that too when I was her age.” You murmur as to not wake the girls, “I hope she knows how special she is.”

“You’re gonna be such a good mom someday,” he whispers down at you.

“I hope so.”

Jake had been waiting for what felt like hours. It was five minutes really. But when you had told him to go wait in the car he had expected you to be out much sooner than you were. And when you finally sat down next to him, he wasn’t all too pleased.

“Let’s go.” You hum, pulling down the mirror to apply a final layer of lip gloss.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah, why?” You turn, a crease forming in your brow.

Jake winces, unsure of whether to continue, “your skirt, it’s really short.”

“I guess so.” You deadpan.

A beat passes.

“Are you going to cover up?”

Jake watches as your face drops.

“Why would I do that?” You reply snappily.

Jake sighs and begins to pull his car out of the driveway.

“Because I don’t want random guys hitting on you all night.”

“How is that my problem?” You retort, anger bubbling up.

“I just don’t want them getting wrong ideas about you, that’s all.” Jake tries to reason.

“And what would those ideas be, Jake?”

Jake can sense your rising anger. He doesn’t want to be in an argument with you by the time you reach the Hard Deck. That leaves him approximately four minutes to diffuse the situation he has caused.

“Just forget I said anything, it’s fine.” Jake dismisses.

“No, I want to know what you mean.” You assert, arms coming up to cross over your chest.

“Can we just drop it?” Jake sighs after a moment, “I don’t want to fight in front of everyone.”

“We wouldn’t have to fight if you weren’t being a dick!”

Jake rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify you with a response, angering you even further. When he finally pulls into a spot outside of the Hard Deck you turn to him and flick at his shirt that can’t have more than two buttons done up.

“You gonna do that up sweetheart? Touch revealing don’t ya think?” You spit snarkily.

With that you slam the door to the car and make your way inside without looking back. Jake watches as you beeline for Natasha and rolls his eyes when she shoots him a dirty look. It was only more ammunition for her general distaste of him.

It goes like that for the rest of the night. You avoid Jake like the plague, sticking to Nat’s side mostly near the bar top. Although, you always stay within Jake’s line of sight which is heartening for him.

Bradley seems to find the ordeal hilarious.

“What did you do to piss her off this time?” He taunts.

Jake grunts. “I told her that her skirt was too short and that she needed to change.”

Bradley’s eyes widen, “bagman even I know you’re not supposed to say shit like that.”

“Yeah, well I know that now!” Jake spits.

“Hey don’t shoot the messenger,” Bradley rolls his eyes, “just go say sorry.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She called me a dick.” Jake huffs.

“She’s not wrong,” Bradley offers.

Jake stays silent.

“You’re so petty.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Bradley and Jake stare at one another for a moment.

“Yeah, okay maybe,” Jake relents.

He sighs and averts his gaze back where you’re sat with Nat. You’re laughing so hard at something she’s said that you’re doubled over. You really did look beautiful, and Jake hadn’t even told you because he was too worried he was gonna get jealous and be a dick. Yet he still managed to do the last part.

“I hate when you’re right,” Jake admits, handing his beer over to Bradley.

Jake begins to make his way over to you, he’s going to apologise. However, he did not account for what was going to be quite the persistent obstacle.

“Hey,” a voice blurts from in front of him.

Jake catches sight of the owner of the voice, she’s tall and just a touch too blonde to be believable. She’s pretty, sure. But not you.

“Hey,” Jake replies absentmindedly, trying to make his way around her.

She steps in front of him again, blocking you from his view and tries to start up a new conversation.

“I’m Kendra, and you are?” She smiles in what Jake supposes was seduction.

Right now all he’s really trying to figure out is if your still at the bar or not.

“Jake.” He replies, hoping it will satiate her enough to move.

“Well Jake, it is great to meet you,” Kendra hums, sticking out her hand for Jake to shake.

Jake shakes it swiftly and goes to retract his hand, Kendra keeps it in her own grasp and plays with his fingers, keeping an awkward amount of eye contact with him.

“Look Kendra, I’m sure you’re a great girl but my-”

“I love your shirt!” She interrupts, “would probably love what’s underneath more.”

Jake cringes at her line and at the way her hand is now currently moving towards the excessive amount of chest exposed by his lowly buttons. Before she can reach skin, her hand is smacked away by red polished nails that Jake would recognise anywhere.

“Hey baby,” you whisper, before throwing your arms around Jake’s neck and smashing your lips into his.

Jake is all too quick to reciprocate, letting his hands fall to your ass only just covered by the tiny skirt that Jake has suddenly taken a distinct liking to. You pull back only to catch your breath, but instead catch sight of the seething blonde still stood uncomfortably close.

“We were talking!” She insists.

“He’s busy,” you cock your head to the side in faux apology, “sorry.”

She huffs and mumbles “crazy bitch” as she storms off, you pout to try and hold in your giggles. When you turn back to Jake, it proves useless trying to hold them in when you catch sight of his mouth smothered in your pink lipgloss.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Jake breathes out.

“I’m still mad at you,” you tease.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m a jealous dick, you just look so fucking good I didn’t want anyone else to see you.” Jake explains, hands caressing at the skin at the tops of your thighs.

You snort, “I think I’m the jealous one,”

“Good, I like a change of pace sometimes,” Jake pinches softly at your skin and lets a smile grace his feature at the way you squeak.

“Should we get out of here?” You whisper, hand trailing down Jake’s chest to where his hand is resting on you.

You guide his hand underneath your skirt slowly until Jake realises the lack of barrier between his hand and your cunt.

“Fuck, baby.” Jake hums practically into your mouth from how closely you two are stood.

You step away from him swiftly and bring his hand back into yours, pulling him towards the parking lot. Jake could cry from happiness.

“If this is stupid you can just tell me, okay?” You ask from where you’re stood in front of a blindfolded Jake.

It’s his birthday today and you told him you had a surprise. He figured it would be a party, which he was thankful for but he couldn’t understand the point of the blindfold.

“Okay you can take it off now.” You instruct.

Jake all but rips the blindfold off and looks down at you to take in your attire.

“Jesus, baby.”

“Do you like it?” You question, giving him a little spin.

Jake’s mouth is agape as he watches the way you twirl, clad in the tiniest daisy dukes he thinks he’s ever seen and what can only be his flannel. The cream of your cowboy boots are subtle and suit you well.

“Like it?” Jake steps forward and shoves his hands into the small back pockets of your shorts, “I fuckin’ love it.”

Behind you, Jake can see his Stetson placed on the table, and behind that he can see into the garden where all of his friends are already drinking and chatting.

“You set this up, baby?” He nods to the glass doors.

“I had some help,” you shrug, finally moving out of his grip to grab his hat.

Jake extends his hand out for you to pass it to him, but is pleasantly surprised when you place it on your own head. He opens his mouth to speak, but your catch him before he can with a wink,

“I know the rule, cowboy.” You tease, placing your hand on his chest. “Consider it a birthday gift.”

Jake holds back a groan as you drag him outside to where he’s greeted by a chorus of “happy birthday”s and various other jokes about him getting old. It sort of shocks Jake at the amount of people there to celebrate, and he has to hold in a chuckle as he sees a number of your friends already beelining for the group of pilots nursing beers on the decking.

Bradley is quick to find Jake as the party gets into full swing, people chatting and music playing throughout the yard.

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” Bradley chuckles slapping Jake on the shoulder.

Jake has been staring at you for the last 10 minutes as you twirl around with Phoenix to the varied 2000s songs that have been on loop for most of the evening.

“Don’t I know it,” Jake boasts, clinking his beer bottle against Bradley’s.

You can feel a gaze on your back as you grind onto Phoenix whilst Nelly Furtado plays, not to your shock it’s Jake, head cocked to the side with a lazy smirk on his face whilst practically ignoring everything Bradley is saying to him. You can only giggle as Phoenix makes a teasing remark about him being whipped. She wasn’t wrong.

You make you way towards the boys slowly, smiling as you catch the end of their conversation.

“Whatcha talking about?” You goad, as Jake pulls you back against his chest already.

“You.” Bradley answers truthfully.

“All bad I suppose?” You bait.

“Oh the worst,” Jake fills in, pinching at the meat of your thigh playfully.

Deciding not to prod further, you turn in Jake’s grip to face him and plant a sloppy kiss on his face. It makes Jake laugh and Bradley mock gag, rolling his eyes and making his way towards Phoenix. Jake captures your lips with his a few more times, hands wandering dangerously low towards your ass before you pull away with a wink, and also slight fear of traumatising your guests.

“Patience is a virtue,” you remind Jake, he simply groans in response.

The rest of the night goes as such, Jake gets cornered into conversations, his eyes wander to you, you tease him some way or the other, Jake is left half hard whilst talking to an admiral. It’s uncomfortably delicious and Jake cannot wait for his last birthday gift.

At 1:30 AM, the only stragglers left are the dagger squad, drunkenly swaying around Jake’s backyard and singing horrific variations of “Slow Ride” to annoy him. It doesn’t even work, because Jake knows he has something so sweet waiting for him. However, his patience is wearing thin and considering these are the people closest to him, he has no qualms with speaking his mind.

“Alright, y’all time to get going,” he announces, herding everyone out.

Bob had been kind enough to offer to drive everyone home, and Jake was keen to take him up on it, helping Bob strap in their drunk friends with alarming efficiency.

“Hey! What’s the rush birthday boy?” Javy slurs as Jake buckles his seatbelt.

“He wants birthday sex!” Nat whisper shouts into Javy’s ear, with emphasis on the shout.

The truck erupts in whoops and crude hollers towards Jake and only Bob can offer him an apologetic smile.

“Good luck,” Jake pats Bob on the back.

“You too.” Bob replies with a laugh, eyes glancing quickly to where you’re stood on the porch, hip popped out against one of the wooden beams.

Jake all but sprints back to you, hauling you up into his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You move to place his stetson on his own head, but Jake stops you.

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you ride the cowboy, you gotta wear the hat.” He smirks, kicking the front door shut behind him.

“Seems fair.” You hum after a moment.

And when Jake walks into the changing rooms on Monday morning, taking off his shirt to reveal hideous claw marks down his back. No one bats an eye.

Jake had experienced what one could only describe as a clusterfuck of a day.

To start off the day, his alarm hadn’t gone off, meaning he had to sprint to his car and run a red light on the way to work. What was worse than the impending ticket that he was going to receive was the fact that he hadn’t even been able to kiss you goodbye like he does every morning.

It set him up badly. Jake Seresin was never one for superstitions but you were clearly his lucky charm. Proved so even further by the way his concentration was lacking in the flight simulations he was running. Then when they were up in the air, Jake was missing every opportunity to shoot down Maverick, messing up every manoeuvre and just generally souring his already damp mood.

To top it all off, the pièce de résistance, when Jake finally made it back to the changing rooms, itching to change out of his sweaty flight suit. His bag was sat open, clothes sopping wet whilst two of the newbies stood guiltily next to a broken shower head.

He almost blew his lid. Almost. But then he pictured getting back to you, falling into your arms after this tragic day and finally being able to relax. So for once, Jake decided to keep his mouth shut. He picked up his sopping bag and silently stalked out of the room.

When Jake reached his truck and listened to the way his bag squelched as he set it down, he held in another groan of frustration. The sun was still beating down and his sweaty flight suit was clinging to him in all the wrong places. Deep breath in, clench the steering wheel too hard, deep breath out. It was a 15 minute drive. He could do that for God’s sake.

Jake’s 15 minute drive quickly became a 45 minute one when he found out the road he was supposed to be taking was closed due to a burst pipe. The sky was a dusky purple as he finally pulled up outside your house. Jake can see that the light is on in the kitchen as well as your figure moving around languidly.

Jake slams the car door probably too loudly and rushes to the door. When he opens it, Jake is greeted with the loud sounds of your 90s playlist blasting throughout the house, he can hear you voice - although somewhat out of tune - belting along as well.

It makes him smile, for the first time on that horrid day. Jake’s bag of damp clothes are forgotten by the door as he quickly shucks himself of his boots and makes his way towards the kitchen. He opens the door to the sight of you wiggling your hips to Santana whilst holding a spatula and pushing around some type of stir fry.

You continue your movements, but turn at the sound of someone entering, a large smile gracing your face once you realise who it is.

“Hey, handsome,” you preen, dancing your way towards him.

Jake can’t help but chuckle at you movements, but he quickly falls limp once your wrap your arms around his neck. His large arms wrap around your waist tightly, engulfing you in him. You take note of Jake’s subdued demeanour, and raise one of your hands to scratch at the hair at his neck just like you know he loves.

“You okay, babe?” you hum, swaying him slightly.

“Shit day,” he groans out, leaning further into your touch.

“You wanna talk about it?” You continue your ministrations.

“Later.” He huffs, “Just wanna be with you.”

Jake’s sweet words make you melt into him further, burying your face into his chest. The arms of his flight suit were tied around his waist, only his tight black undershirt covering the expanse of his chest. He smelt like a combination of jet fuel, sweat and his cologne that he’d hurriedly sprayed in the morning. It should probably be off putting but it was so undeniably Jake that it was addictive. You inhale again as you place a chaste kiss against his pec.

“Are you sniffing me?” Jake chuckles.

“You smell so good,” you can only groan out, smushing your face into him again.

Jake leans back and takes your face in his hands,

“I’ve not even showered, I stink,” he chuckles incredulously.

“You still smell so good,” you whine, lips forming a pout.

“That means we’re meant to be or something, my pheromones get you going huh?” Jake teases.

“Never say pheromones again,” you roll your eyes and wiggle out of his grip to lower the heat under the pan you were searing the food in.

Jake follows you diligently, arms wrapping around your waist so he can cling to you as you move about the kitchen. Once bored of your movements, Jake swiftly lifts you up to sit at the counter top.

“Jake!” You swat at his chest, “we need to plate up the food,” you remind him.

“It can wait,” he decides, leaning in to connect his lips to yours.

It’s what he’d been waiting for all day. The pillow of your lips on his, the way you melt into his touch. One strong hand caressing the side of your face and the other gripping at your hip. You rest one hand on his chest, the other at the back of his neck, guiding his face to yours over and over again. Jake feels like a teenager again, making out with his girlfriend on the kitchen counter top. Except his 16 year old self would probably lose his mind trying to figure out how he ended up with someone like you.

Once you’d let Jake’s tongue explore your mouth in a kiss that had lasted far too long, you finally pull back to catch your breath.

“You want food?” you question with a smile.

“Please,” Jake hums as you hop off the counter. He smacks at your ass you walk away from him, “I’m starving.”

You roll your eyes fondly, and get to plating up the food. Jake isn’t too keen on letting you out of his grip, so you sit in his lap as you eat, feeding him and yourself at the same time. It’s nice, his strong grip is comforting and Jake appreciates how eager you are to listen to his rant about his shitty day.

“I was missing you all day, baby,” Jake murmurs, kissing at the side of your neck.

“I always miss you, Jake,” you smile earnestly, “now go shower and I’ll wash the plates.”

Jake allows you out of his grip so you can stand and move back around the kitchen, he shadows you once again, moving in tandem with his hands never leaving you.

“I thought you were going to shower?” You question, placing the last dish in the dishwasher.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he whines.

You sigh, holding in your smirk as you turn to face him. “You wanna shower together?”

Jake has never looked so giddy as he practically races up the stairs, shirt flying off as he climbs the steps.

“You’re insatiable!” You yell after him.

“Only for you!” He yells in return.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I could say right now,” Jake clears his throat.

He’s not nervous. In fact he doesn’t think anything has ever been so clear in his mind.

“I think usually when people do these things they tell memories or defining moments about their relationship, but the truth is. Every goddamn moment since I met you, I knew this was the only possible outcome.”

Jake looks down to where your sat with your shared friends and family, you look like a dream really. He’d been antsy about not seeing your dress, but now he was glad he’d waited.

“Y’know she turned me down five times before finally agreeing to go out with me?” Jake chuckles into the mic he’s holding.

Laughter rings out through the guests but Jake’s gaze never wavers from you. You’re rolling your eyes at him with a smile on your face, letting out a giggle as Jake’s mom squeezes your hand.

“I don’t blame her, I was kind of a mess. I’d just been stationed back here on North Island, and Javy was my only friend because I was a dick.”

The dagger squad, raise their glasses in a cheers to Jake’s statement, cracking the room up again.

“I never thought Rooster would be sat at my table at my wedding, I’ll admit that.” Jake laughs out.

Bradley in return whoops and raises a hand in salute to Jake.

“He’s single by the way ladies,” Jake winks to your elderly grandmother.

“Anyways, as I was saying, total dick, with a lacking moral compass and even more so in my emotions. I was kind of betting on getting the mission done and going back to wherever the hell I was stationed and moving on. Then I ended up pissing off the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen by pouring a drink down her shirt, and she chewed me out worse than any admiral I’d ever crossed.”

“It was expensive!” You quickly yell out in defence.

“As you can see, I’m still making up for it,” Jake teases, “but from that moment onwards I realised I needed to get my act together. My pea brain was shocked that a woman would cuss me out like that, and I immediately fell in love with her. Which probably makes me sound crazy but seriously, being around you for five minutes makes you want to be a better person, and being around you for this long has made me a better man.”

Jake’s smile can only widen when your glossy eyes meet his, “Rooster once told me I was a lucky son of a bitch to have you, and as annoyingly as always. He was right. I don’t know how or why you agreed to be my girlfriend, and it’s a godsent miracle that I get to call you my wife. You’re the best person in every room - sorry everyone - and the most beautiful person always. I love you, which you already know, but I just wanted to say it again,” Jake exhales.

Jake raises his glass in a final toast, “to my beautiful wife, the new Mrs Seresin.”

Glasses clink around the room and Jake almost misses you beelining for him throughout all the commotion. Your arms wrap swiftly around his neck, pulling his lips against yours. You kiss him softly, before pulling back to whisper to him,

“You know I love you so fucking much right?”

“Of course I do, baby,” Jake hums.

“You’re the best man I know,” you smile, leaning in to his lips again.

Jake dips you as you kiss, feeding off of the theatrics as people holler. People are standing and moving towards the dance floor as he brings you back up, forehead pressed against your own.

“Do you know how hot it is that you’re my wife?” He smirks.

“Mrs Seresin does have a nice ring to it,” you decide.

“The best, actually,” Jake replies, as he’s dragged towards the dance floor by Javy.

a/n: jake is so husband coded it’s not even funny,,, like THAT IS MY MAN!!!!

@roosterforme ages ago we were talking and you asked me to tag you when i posted my jake fic, sorry it’s been eons hehe i hope you enjoy!!

pls comment, reblog, or send me an ask and tell me what you think!!

thank you for reading :))

- honey <333

6K notes · View notes

chiwhorei · 10 months

Text

꒰ঌ Cᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ Dᴀᴅᴅʏ ໒꒱

╰┈➤ The real best icky!daddy, king of ddlg and master of the orgasm is one Yami Sukehiro i can promise you that.

╰┈➤ Tags: shortform, drabble, size, a dash o’ belly bulge, dummie/puppy/little girl/fuck doll, DDLG, diet-cest (aka not explicitly stated, but the vibes are there) Daddy!Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader

Daddy Yami is carrying you to his bed for a midday nap and sitting you on his cock to keep him warm. You’ll think he’s asleep and try so wriggle free but his big hands are grabbing you harshly by the ass to keep you still.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl.” He chides with his eyes still closed, smoothing a palm over your hair once you’ve settled back into his chest.

Daddy let’s you take sips of his beer and pulls from his cigarette as long as you don’t inhale. He likes how you look with your cheeks puffed out and the glaze in your eye when you’re trying not to cough.

“Daddy’s girl” is not just a pet name, that is what you ARE. Only Daddy’s girl. Only Daddy’s little fuck doll. Only existing in and for the pleasure of Yami. He loves you too much, he doesn’t need you worrying about having any thoughts other than sucking on his fingers and getting bisected on his fat cock. ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

You get so shy and incoherent when you’re fucked brainless. Daddy loves watching his stupid little cum puppy try to sit on his dick all by yourself, how needy your little pussy is to have Daddy deep enough you can feel it in your lungs.

“Slow down, baby, I know you think you can take it like a big girl, but you always end up cryin’ and tellin’ Daddy it hurts too much.”

Daddy’s right, of course, but in your delirious, fucked dumb state you just can’t help it. You crave the pain, the little bulge in your tummy and the way Daddy presses his big hand into your abdomen so he can feel how fucking deep his cock is.

And Daddy is whipped for you like softened butter, he’s going to fuck your slack body up and down on his cock.

He’s going to fuck an extra load in just because you’re being bratty, you are still his good girl, after all, and you deserve it. ꒰ঌᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ໒꒱

* 𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ *

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

#yami sukehiro smut #yami smut #yami x reader smut #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro x reader smut #captain yami #black clover smut #tw.incest #tw.diet-cest

1K notes · View notes

joontroverted · 5 months

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hate the way you smile

bully! baji keisuke x popular girl reader

fandom : tokyo revengers

word count : 5.5k

tags : he is a bully (only to you tbh), dubcon, panty kink, he gives you a wedgie lol, pussy eating, anal fingering (just a bit), exhibitionism, groping, stalking (kinda), they are in school for the only purpose of them wearing uniforms, but I've been kinda vague about that because I hate writing high school aus, so you can def imagine them to be in college, all characters are 18+ only

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, IF THESE TAGS DO NOT SUIT YOU, SCROLL

you're not a loser.

quite the contrary actually, you're very popular.

you joined the school pretty late, which itself was not very common, causing everyone to ogle at you. and judging from the way they treat you, they liked what they saw.

your features and mannerisms captivated everyone, right from the way you walked into class to the little smile you gave after the introduction the teacher forced you into doing. that would've been called cringe on anyone else, but you pulled it off.

keisuke has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never does.

yeah yeah, you were the shiny new thing when you first walked in. and then you got most of your answers correct in class, no matter when the teacher called on you. most of the answers, that is, because when you got an answer wrong and the teacher corrected you, keisuke finally felt vindicated. that would be the start of the chipping of your bright exterior.

but no. instead you snorted (and God even your snort was cute) and rolled your eyes, muttering stupid before smacking yourself on the side of the head with the tip of your pencil. that had the class giggling, causing even the teacher to smile as she continued with the rest of the topic.

what the hell? what was even funny about all this?

(he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, with a little lopsided smile on your face as you suddenly realized the rest of the class had heard you. you fanned yourself as if that would blow the embarrassment away somehow, and for just a second your eyes flitted up to his. he turned away immediately.)

"what do you think of the new girl."

“huh?” says mikey stupidly, his eyes trained on takemichi of all people. keisuke shares a look with draken, deciding to get to the bottom of whatever that is, later.

“she has a name, you know,” says draken, stretching, as the three of them are spread out on the bleachers.

“what, d’you like her or something?”

“very funny,” he replies, rolling his eyes at keisuke. “emma thinks she's really pretty, and you know emma. she immediately went up to her and started chattering away and the next thing you know they have a bubble tea date planned. i think she even dragged takemichi's girl into it.”

“i don't think they're dating,” mikey’s head whips around, finally decided to acknowledge the two of them.

“they hold hands all the time!”

“did both of them come and tell you word for word that they're dating?” says mikey seriously.

keisuke and draken exchange another incredulous look.

“yeah, that's what i thought” says mikey victoriously. he turns to keisuke. “do you like her?”

“who the hell are we even talking about anymore?”

“the new girl, keisuke, god, how can you forget what you were talking about so quickly?”

“tch. there's nothing to like about her. gave me something to laugh at with that stupid little introduction she gave us on her first day, but she's just another girl. i don't know why everyone's so obsessed with her.”

“she gave me some of her lunch when she saw me sniffing her,” says mikey unhelpfully. “people should start doing that more.”

“you should stop sniffing people,” replies draken, disgusted.

“guess what she smells like!”

“like cocoa butter on some days and like flowers on others,” blurts out keisuke.

both mikey and draken turn their heads to keisuke.

“that's what all girls smell like, what the fuck!” he retaliates, looking away, his face burning.

“emma doesn't.”

“yeah, and neither does hina. or takemichi,” drawls mikey, squinting at him. “and you're right. she does smell like cocoa butter. i don't know about flowers. but then again, i’m not the one obsessed with her.”

“i'm not obsessed with her!” hisses keisuke. “and keep your voice down, will you, i’m sure the rest of the world heard you!”

“mikey! draken!” a voice calls from the field in front of them.

they all turn to see it's you, in your skorts and top, visor in one hand and racquet in the other. the skorts (who the hell came up with that mopey idea) seem to hug your waist just right, the shortness of them making your legs look longer. your top is sticking to your skin from all the sweat you had built up from the match you just had, the white becoming almost see through, and he wonders how you’re either actually goddamn stupid or that desperate for attention for you to wear a red bra underneath it.

you wave at them enthusiastically, and you're close enough to them for him to see your eyes land on him, and you give him a little wave too.

mikey and draken wave back. keisuke rolls his eyes and looks away. “fucking of course she plays tennis, how pretentious,” he mutters.

“how come the girl you're obsessed with doesn't give a fuck about you?” snickers mikey as you walk away, surrounded by your group of girls, chattering and laughing.

“i'm not obsessed with her first of all, and second of all, we don't even know each other because i’m not a serial sniffer like you.”

“maybe you should be,” sniffs mikey, “‘cuz guess what i smell right now?”

“shut the- ”

“a boy in looove,” sing mikey and draken together, bursting into laughter.

walking home, the more he thinks about your tennis uniform, the more he's pissed off. that wouldn't be a regular bra now, would it? probably a sports bra. he imagines you peeling off the tight top in the locker rooms, laughing with the other girls. how the sweat makes it a bit harder to tug off the bra, causing you to flail around a bit, before it comes off fully. he thinks about you basking in the freedom from it for a bit, chest heaving from all the exertion of the game, nipples hardened from the sudden exposure.

he imagines you bend over and tug off the skorts you were wearing, wondering what panties you had on. would they be red, like your bra? you seem like a stuck up bitch who would make sure of stupid things like that. judging from how snugly the skorts had fit you, your panties would probably be digging into your soft skin, wouldn't they? were your panties riding up your pussy? the thought is quickly followed by the image of tight, red panties wedged up your pussy, he could almost hear you whine as you pulled them down and off of you. he didn't even have to imagine the rest before he broke off into a run to his home so he had some material left to finish himself off.

bad thoughts. these are bad thoughts that are too raunchy and precious for someone as annoying as you.

(to his utter irritation, it's the small smile you had on your face when you waved at him that pushed him over the edge at the end.)

you're not a loser.

so fuck knows why you're so hellbent on doing the project exactly the way you wanted to, with absolutely no room for creative liberties, no changes in font, and every single time keisuke suggested something he could see you typing up a storm on the group chat. he made sure to see the message, but not read it and then be conveniently offline for the rest of the day. he was sure you would resort to calling him to beg him to not deviate from the color pallete you (and you alone) had decided on. obviously everyone else nodded and went along with your decision. but you hadn't called.

so here you are, trailing after him.

“keisuke!”

he groans and keeps walking down the hallway.

“keisuke! i just wanted to let you know that i know it feels like i'm being so restrictive, but all these rules are just for the presentation, like the ppt!” you dodge a couple walking hand in hand and you turn around and wave at them. “you guys are so cute! anyways, keisuke, you have complete freedom over what you want to say during your part of the presentation!”

“ha, so can i talk about my favorite kpop star while the rest of you are talking about the american involvement in the korean war? thanks!” he snorts, striding away.

“i didn't mean whatever you want, i meant you can speak about your portion however you want! the format we've decided on is just for the ppt!” you hurry around a sharp corner he took, still following him.

“we didn't decide anything. you chose the topic, and you chose the format of the ppt,” he grits out.

“well, when we were going around suggesting ideas, everyone seemed to like mine, so they went with it. and you weren't even in the meet!”

he grunts. that was true.

you open your mouth to say something and someone’s calling your name, so you turn around to respond to them. by the time you turn back he's gone again.

“fuck! fuck!” you mutter, adjusting your tote bag over your shoulder. God, he is so irritating. him and how serious he always is about treating you like shit but never taking it all the way. you always feel the prick of his eyes staring at you, and initially you always turned to smile or talk to him, but he'd just look away and outwardly ignore you.

you had taken to staring back at him, in hopes of him at least taking it as a sign to leave you alone but that hadn't worked either.

instead, now you know how his silky hair slinks to the front of his face as time passes during classes, and how he absentmindedly gnaws on his pens with his canine teeth. you know how he actually prefers putting his hair up in a high ponytail rather than a low one on the few occasions that he does tie his hair. you know he's actually studying when he’s wearing his red reading glasses. he takes his blazer off often and he's rather ripped, and you're embarrassed to say that you might've asked around why. your classmates said he has a black belt and used to beat people up for fun.

you can't figure out if that's a joke or not.

you don’t care that he ignores you, you have enough friends and more than enough people who would pay attention to you. but it kept building and building. everyone said he was a quiet but nice guy. was rowdy when he was younger, but mellowed down and began to focus on school a bit more. you would love to see that side of him, especially now in the crux of the group project. he still had a wild side to him apparently and everyone knew not to mess with him and his loyal set of goons kazutora and chifuyu (who is quite the loser himself), but you'd had just about enough today. you had messaged him that you would like to talk when classes ended, and clearly he didn't give a fuck.

one last attempt, you promise. one last attempt and then you can boot him off of the project and be at peace again.

remember when you couldn't figure out if they were lying about baji keisuke being a bully or not? well, you're about to find out, because while you're digging through your bag for your history project folder, you don't see the foot sticking out right around the corner you turn.

one minute you're walking on solid ground, the next minute you're in the air and crashing down on it.

your bag provides no security at all, all the books, your cute stationery, the folder, your sanitizer, lip gloss, and all the little trinkets clatter onto the floor, spreading out onto the empty hallway.

you look up to see golden eyes, framed by dark silky hair staring down at you.

“what the fuck?” anger rolls through you. “what the fuck, baji?”

“oh, so it's baji now, is it? it was keisuke! keisuke! just a second ago!” he mimics your voice with a laugh.

you're still on your knees on the floor. you look around, and the school is empty, even the last of the people remaining would be downstairs in the cafeteria.

“lookin’ for all your admirers?” he sneers, bending down to pick up one of your keychains.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, reaching up to take it from him, but he snatches his hand back. “give it back!”

“you don't have to worry about this,” he says cooly, watching you try to gather all your stuff. you're on all fours, grabbing your things. you're getting nowhere ultimately, everything is far too spread out.

keisuke watches as your skirt hikes higher and higher up, teasing him with little glimpses at your white panties. was that lace on the sides? keisuke almost falls to his knees just from that, as you continue being a stupid slut so obliviously.

“get up!” he snaps and hauls you up with a firm grip on your bicep. “i told you not to worry about that!”

“oh yeah?” you ask, turning to him, your voice raising. “i would love to not worry about this, considering i was just minding my own business! i would love to not worry about the group project but you don't give a fuck!”

he raises his eyebrows, watching you go off on him. you get closer and closer to him, and start pushing him in his chest. “i'd at least like to have a conversation with you, but no, you're such a fucking asshole that you'd rather just stare at me resentfully like a creep instead of actually come up to me and talk to me! but i get it you know, i'd also be so full of hate if i was made to repeat a year but still remained as stupid as i was when i failed!”

the silence that follows is palpable.

you don't stand down. for once, there isn't a spec of your usual sweetness or benefit of doubt. you are glaring at him, looking right into his eyes, daring him to respond.

“so you've been asking around about me, huh?”

“that's rich coming from you. if i see you stare at me one more time, or blatantly ignore me, or disrespect me again, i'll gouge your fucking eyes out!” you hiss, pushing him one final time. you turn around and once again bend over to start collecting your things.

“stop.”

“you are not allowed to- “

“i'll leave you alone if you do this.”

that makes you turn back to him. hurts a lil bit to see you only listen to him so he'd leave you alone, but he’d brought this upon himself. “what do you want,” you spit.

he stares at you for a moment. you wonder if he's just gonna burst out laughing at how you deluded yourself into thinking that he'd leave you alone, right after he knocked you to the ground like that. his hair's out of his ponytail and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his fangs flashing at you.

he tilts his head to the side, and gives you a lazy grin. his eyes however, remain serious and trained on you.

“show me your panties.”

you balk, your anger dimming, replaced with confusion. “what?”

he looks serious as ever. he leans forward into your personal space, his hair almost brushing yours. “show me your panties,” he says slowly, as if he were talking to someone stupid, “and i'll consider leaving you alone.”

“con- consider? you told me you'd leave me alone!”

“depends. yes or no?”

“no! no! obviously no!” you're completely flushed, and you try pulling the hem of your skirt down defensively, wishing you hadn't snuck off to the bathroom to roll it up an inch before you came out to talk to him. “i'm not gonna show you my panties!”

he looks at you with a sort of bored but also amused look in his face.

“do you seriously think i haven't noticed that your skirt's shorter now than it was in class?” he flips the tuck of your shirt up, “ah, there it is. you've rolled your skirt up just to come talk to me.”

“no… no!” you sputter, all the fight in you bleeding out from embarrassment. “i didn't, and i didn't do it for you!”

“i know you want my attention anyways. so let me be clear. either you show me your panties, which seems like you wanted to do that anyways, or i make you show me your panties.” he smiles, so simply and easily as if he's discussing what to get for lunch. “as simple as that.”

you snort. “you're gonna make me show you my panties? and how's that gonna work?”

he laughs. “easily.”

you shouldn't have asked that, you think. keisuke pushes off the wall he's been leaning on and walks towards you. you walk back, unsure of what to do, your eyes never leaving each others, yours wide in shock and his sharp like a snake. your back hits the wall, and now you've got nowhere to go.

“like this,” he whispers, and tugs you forward a bit by your belt loops. he then reaches forward, peering above your shoulder, and you stupidly lean forward almost on instinct. his silky hair brushes against your cheek, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of that and the next moment, you feel his fingers fiddle with the back of waistband of your skirt, untucking it.

“you tuck your shirt into your panties, huh?” he murmurs, “you're really such a loser.”

“what are you do- ah!”

his fingers are on the waistband of your panties now. and he pulls. the fabric gets pulled up from the back and digs into your ass from his tug. embarrassment floods your body from how humiliating this is, but also from how disgustingly wet you feel yourself getting.

“keisuke! keisuke, please!” you whisper, turning to look at him, but he's still looking over your shoulder. there's no way to conceal his view, because not only is he taller than you but also he can see down into your skirt.

“ah, there she is,” he mutters. another tug. “i don't know why you didn't want me to see ‘em. well, i already did see a bit of them when you were sprawled on the floor on all fours looking helpless, but you can't expect me to be satisfied just from that.”

“keisuke, please, stop it!” you squeal, ears hot. you can't believe he's basically giving you a wedgie, his fingers are in your panties and your out in public, more or less.

“all right then.” your panties snap back in place, stinging a bit. he pushes away a step, hands up. “run along then, little loser.”

you stand still head down, with a humiliating feeling settling in you. you don't want to leave.

he watches you not make a single move to your fallen bag or even to run away.

“fuck, i knew there was something weird about you! i knew you weren't this sweet little popular preppy princess everyone makes you out to be!” he laughs, his deep voice echoing down the empty hallway. “you're a nasty little whore, aren't you?”

“m'not a nasty whore!” you whine, “i just- “

“fuck am i gonna have my way with you,” he whistles. “i was being polite earlier. turn around.”

“why- “

“talk all you like whore, but i better see you listening to what i say,” he cuts you off. He takes off his blazer, dropping it to the ground and folding his arms. “turn around.”

you turn around, with an inkling of what he's going to do. you stare at the lockers in front you and bite your lip.

“hands on the lockers.”

“what are you go- “

he lifts up your skirt and tucks it deep into the waistband, leaving you panty clad ass completely exposed. the cool air hitting you there directly makes you clench involuntarily and he almost moans from how cute and innocent that looks. he's finally got a good look at your panties. white, fitted cotton panties with a lace trim. it's ridiculous how simple it and how much it manages to choke him up. the back of the panties are still a bit yanked up from where he had pulled earlier, and you're clearly dying from embarrassment based on how low you're holding your head.

well, there's no time to waste.

he grabs onto the waistband at the back of your panties and pulls. the material disappears into your cheeks, digging up and up and up as he pulls, and you almost lose balance from the force of it. “keisuke!” you gasp, your hand coming back for some support. “i- “

“are you stupid?” he snarls, tugging up once more, causing you to jump from how mean he sounds, “or are your hands on the lockers?"

your hands are immediately on the lockers.

“good girl,” he mutters, “goood girl.” he pulls more and more on your poor panties, and they're crudely rubbing against your hole. your feet almost leave the ground with ever tug he gives, causing you to bounce. you're almost dead with humiliation, but the grinding against your clit and the embarrassment of the whole situation has you so flustered and wrecked.

“i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, keisuke!”

he's so focused on your hot your ass looks, clenched around your panties like that, soft cheeks being put through such torture, and he can't imagine how your puckered little hole must feel from all the abuse it's taking. makes him wanna kiss it better.

“what is it? you don't like being treated like the little loser you are, huh?” he croons into your ear. “is this not princess treatment enough for you?”

he lets you go all of a sudden, and you almost crumple to your knees, but he catches you and hauls you up, turning you towards him.

“you havin fun?” he taunts, towering over you.

“fuck off! you're so mean!” you sniffle, trying to pull your panties down.

“ah ah,” he says sternly, smacking your hands away. “none of that. i'm not done with you. boys!”

the door of the classroom next to you is kicked open and you see kazutora and chifuyu walk out, who follow keisuke like shadows and drank up every word he said loyally.

you glare at keisuke, who has both your wrists in a firm grip in just one hand of his. he grins at them. “told ya she's a slut.”

kazutora snickers, but your eyes remain on chifuyu. he's on the fucking math team with you! you glare holes into his eyes as he looks your way, and his cheeks turn pink, either because it's nerd recognizes nerd or it's because your skirt is tucked all the way up with your entire ass and panties exposed.

keisuke's attention is back on you as he lifts your wrists above your head, pinning them to the lockers behind you. you try to fight him, but it's fruitless. he then tucks the front of your skirt into your waistband too, leaving the front of your panties exposed too.

your panties have a little heart stitched onto the front, your pubic hair peeking out from the lace on the leg holes.

“now, isn’t she a pretty baby,” keisuke laughs to himself, as your heart flutters a little from that praise. “hold her up for me, boys.”

“what do you mean hold me up?”

kazutora and chifuyu position themselves on either side of you and hold on the sides of your underwear. “chifuyu!” you gasp, turning to look at the boy, who refuses to make eye contact with you, but does what his supreme leader says anyways.

“hey!” keisuke snaps his fingers in front of your face. “you don't focus on anyone but me, kay?”

you narrow your eyes.

he squishes both your cheeks with one hand, making your lips pucker out. “answer.”

“okay, okay,” you whimper, breaking eye contact.

“eyes on me, sweetheart. i'm gonna let go your hands now. if you try anything, you're gonna find out cute you look with a smack on your face, got it?”

your eyes turn watery as you look into his, lips pushing into a pout. “got it,” you mutter.

“there's my girl. now let's see what we have here.” and with that he sinks to his knees, till he's face level with your panties. he places his big hands on the outside of either thigh, running them up and down for a moment, sending shivers up your spine. he grips your thighs and watches his nails sink into your fatty flesh, and how you gasp at the pain that feels so good.

he leans forward and places a kiss on your mound, and then goes lower and places another firm kiss on your clit. the little whimper you give spurs him on. he pushes his nose between your lips and sniffs, groaning to himself.

“fuck that's good pussy,” he presses his nose alone the slit and goes up and up until it meets your clit and he presses down as his lips comes up to rub your pussy through your panties. his nose rubbing on your clit has you moaning, as if there aren't two of your classmates holding you up by your panties, your legs weak.

“gimme those hands,” he demands, his voice rough. you place your hands in his gingerly. he places a gentle kiss on both of them, so uncharacteristic to the situation you are in, and how he's been treating you. “i'm gonna give you a very important job, got it?”

“uh huh,” you whisper.

“you're gonna hold my hair up while i eat your pussy through your panties, okay? i don't wanna be missing a moment of it because of my hair getting in the way”

you almost short circuit. you stare at him dumbly, and are brought back to the moment when he places a sharp right onto your pussy lips.

“yes! yes!” you nod, and with your painted pink nails, you gently push back his hair and hold it in a ponytail. “this okay?”

he nods, and gives you a little wink. you gulp and look away.

“all right, we're back to business,” he mutters, going back down to your pussy. “hold ‘em higher for me.”

kazutora and chifuyu (whom you'd almost forgotten about from the previously somewhat sweet moment) pull your panties higher from the sides, making you gasp as they dig into your pussy this time.

keisuin prods and pushes at your pussy lips. he pushes the leg holes of your panties closer and closer together, little by little before he yanks on the top your panties suddenly, causing them to slip between your lips and tug up to your clit.

“ah! keisuke! that's really- “

“c'mon boys hold her higher for me, will ya? i don't mind if your bounce her for me. pussy's so wet just from all this panty action, let’s see how sensitive her little clit is, huh?”

he's talking over you like you're some thing. the boys pull you higher this time, and you can't help but marvel at the strenth of your panties for a hot second before bliss shoots up your body as the crotch of your panties rub against your clit, and you're finally getting some good direct action.

keisuke watches the wet spot in your panties grow bigger and bigger as your panties dig deeper into your clit, your fat pussy lips hang out from either side of the thin bunched up material and your knees knock together from how horny you are and how desperately you're trying to squeeze for more friction. all while you diligently hold his hair back. even in this debauched state, you're adorable. his dick is straining against his pants, he unbuckles them and frees himself, his mouth watering as he dives right in.

panties riding up to the maximum level, he laps up against them, tasting your juices. he spreads your lips even further, making sure there's no room whatsoever for you to escape and you whine and kick. his eyes almost roll back to his skull and his soul ascends when his tongue comes in contact with the slick and gummy insides of your pussy, clenching around both him and your panties. he's growing jealous of your panties now.

“change of plans,” he says, gruffly, “hold her up by her legs, and if you drop her, i swear to god, you're dead.”

chifuyu and kazutora are quick to follow, as they each take one leg and lift you up, holding you open and ready for keisuke, but this time with your entire pussy directly facing him. you wail at the sudden change, but to no one's surprise you're ignored.

keisuke pushes your panties to the side and can finally see your pussy in all it's glory. your cute little bush and your gaping pussy from all the edging it has taken a minute ago. he rolls his saliva around in his tongue and then spits a glob of his spit right onto your pussy. you clench at the feel of how lewd it is, the warm, thick saliva coating your vagina and sliding down, dripping from your asshole. it's disgusting, but it feels so good.

he pushes his entire face in, slurping and swallowing all you have to offer. you're glad that the two are holding you up, because you're too fucked out to even feel the tips of your toes, let alone stand. through all this, you make sure to hold his hair back, because you don't want him to be mad at you.

a finger presses on your asshole and you quiver with shock, snapping out of your daze. “kei- kei, keisuke, not there, not!”

you babble stupidly, passed the point of coherence, as keisuke lets you bounce a little on his fingertip dipping in and out of your puckered little hole, while he slurps up your perfect little pussy, sucking and flicking your clit.

“‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum!” you sob, kicking your feet a bit, like the spoiled little thing you are.

“cum baby. i've got you,” he mutters, as he reaches up one hand to give your tits a hard squeeze. that's the final straw for you, as you finally let go, nipples aching, pussy tingling and asshole prodded open. you come on his mouth and he eagerly drinks up every last drop, jerking himself faster and faster.

“bring her down,” he groans, and the lower you down to the floor, still holding you and keeping you spread. you look up him, your mouth agape as you watch him fist himself and push himself to the edge, cumming all over your face. at first you're taken aback, but then you just sink into the feeling of the hot cum drizzling all over your face dripping down… it almost feel therapeutic.

god. you really are a whore. and a loser.

you sigh.

“oi, go pick her stuff up, and put it in her bag. nicely, like in however cute way she usually does it.”

you're gently set on the ground, on your hands and knees, shaking slightly. you see kazutora and chifuyu walk away and start gathering your stuff up off of the floor. keisuke kneels down to you, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. he pushes you slightly onto your knees and wipes the cum off of your face so gently and so sweetly, you could've mistaken it for your sweetheart wiping your wet face after a running home on a rainy day.

“you okay?” he asks.

you blink. “are you happy?”

“huh?”

“are you happy that you finally got to debase me and see me as a person and not some shiny new thing?”

“to be honest, you were a shiny thing till i wiped all the shininess away right now.”

you smack him on his chest with the back of your hand.

“i'm sorry,” he says looking into your eyes. “i just… um. have a crush on you that was so overwhelming that i wanted to, well, debase you,” he mutters.

you laugh, and scratch your face. “whoa, i totally had no clue whatsoever.”

“is your face still sticky? tora, she has some wet wipes in her bags, toss ‘em over.” the wet wipes fly into his hands, and he pulls one out, wads it up and starts cleaning you up again.

“how did you know i have wet wipes in my bag?”

“maybe i’ve looked through it before. maybe i haven't, who knows?” he shrugs, not looking at you, suddenly extremely concentrated on the area near your eye.

“when did you even- ”

“i might also have memorized your schedule, and all the classes you take. oh, and i also need your panties from today.”

he gets a slap in the face for that.

this was 2.5k words longer than it was supposed to be. i'd love to hear what you think of it 😇

likes, comments, asks and reblogs HIGHLY APPRECIATED ❤️

read my other tokyo revengers fic!

kiss it better (ran haitani)

dividers by the super creative @anitalenia you can tell, I'm kinda obsessed 🌟

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #baji smut #baji keisuke smut #tokrev smut #tokrev x reader #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #yves tells you a story ✩🕯₊˚.📖⋆🌙⋆⁺₊✧

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grnherbs · 1 year

Text

the sweetest goodbye.

mdni, eighteen plus only.

there's content in this fic which may be upsetting to some so content warnings are as followed; darkfic, stalking, obsession, non-con, voyeurism, dead dove; do not eat, drugging, cumplay, unconcious reader, non-con photos, creepiness, ooc leon kennedy

slick cum drips over the edge of his plush, yet somehow course knuckles, years of heavy work evident upon them. he watches you through the high apexed window and fucks into his aforementioned hand. the carnal grunt that leaves his lips as he watches your own pointer slip between the soft lips of your soaked and probably sweet pussy is near feral and he scoffs, the tear in his eyes one of pure disgust and shame for himself; but he’s fucked if he even imagines for one second he could stop.

and for a second time, a whimper escapes his lips and he presses his ear against the wooden front door, if he turns his head to the left, ear flushed against it, he can vaguely hear your own whimpers reverberating through the oak, but barely, it’s not enough and he edges himself post orgasm. the mutual masturbation between the thick walls and double glazed windows is too much and simultaneously not enough for him.

his cock throbs in his hand, almost like if he doesn’t fuck you, he’ll burn up indefinitely. it was sorely pathetic to come back night after night, hopping on various transports to spend a few hours of pleasure with you. but, you were so predictable, he had your schedule drilled into his head by now.

the eight am work calls, midday shopping, friends and then home to fuck your own cunt day after day. it was kind of cute and the predictability had led to him roaming your rooms when you weren’t around, the thrill of perhaps being caught as he cum’s into a pair of your used panties or when he ground his dick down into the very pillow he’d watched you orgasm on many, many nights.

the hair on the back of leons neck stands on edge as he looks down at his weeping cock once again this evening… “talk about predictable,” he mumbles to himself before fear of missing the show overcomes him and he whips his head back up in time to watch your eyes roll back into your head, a choked chuckle coming from his lips, mentally berating himself for forgetting to film you once again.

he’s been watching you for months now, a shameful amount of time had passed since you locked eyes at the grocery store you worked at, some organic non chain, where a brown apron cinched itself around your waist, ass perked up below it in some god willed sweatpants that seemed to hug you in all the desirable places.

leon hadn’t meant to follow you home of course but the smell of your fresh flowery perfume had him wafting through the air like a cartoon character to a pie. he’d climbed the fire escape for the first time that night and was delightfully greeted with a similar sight to the private show he was receiving this evening.

he hadn’t meant to watch.. to perv, for want of a better word. but fuck, the cherry pie between your legs was truly hypnotising, like a snake being charmed by music or a mere man being bought in by some supernatural factor. the delicate parts of you were all he had wanted and more. he remembered the way you laughed and brushed his hand whilst helping him to pack the brown paper bags and it was another reminder of how rough his hands really were, whilst yours skimmed past like butter.

how he’d embarrassed himself when he read your name tag aloud and watched you stare at him puzzled for it before realisation passed through your silky eyes. and then, he’d come back the second night after painting your window with his cum, and you’d failed to notice that even now, the stain is still there. blushing, heating up his cheeks slightly, getting flashes of how insane this really was. how crazy it had been to follow you home and continue night after night to drip cum on your fire escape patio.

he pulls the used panties out of his back pocket again and held them up to his nose, eyes closed as he inhales, hips jutting out pre-emptively in excitement, but he pulls his pants back up as he watches you settle into bed, sleep shorts discarded for a lace thong and some oversized t shirt he hasn’t seen yet.

and now. he waits. one thing he knows for sure is how much of a heavy sleeper you were and the brush of the tips of your favourite cups with some medicine was enough to kick start yawns and desperation for rest. leon’s thoughts are calculated, this has all been planned and tonight, he plans to fuck you for the first time. he smiles, our first time. and he thinks it a shame you won’t be able to remember it but he’ll make it up to you.

climbing through the latched window; (he really has to teach you to be more careful) excitement laces his bones. his hands shake as he peels the cover away from your bare shoulders, dropping to his knees and burying his nose in your neck, he’s waited so long to touch you, actually feel you properly. his hand finds the hem of your shirt, pressing a hand on your belly beneath it, heart beating feverishly and he flicks his eyes up to your face once more before fully planting it, feeling his cock weep at being this near to you.

his free hand moves down to palm himself gently and he continues to nuzzle into your nape and take in all your undernotes. the hand resting on your belly slithers down towards the top of your lace panties, a shy finger making its way under the band, resting atop the groomed hair which lays there, his eyes roll back at the softness there, how were you so soft everywhere?

he pulls your panties down more, finger finding your still wet clit, after remnants of your playtime. he fully removes your underwear now, balling them up by your ankles and leaving them there, trying desperately not to cum right in his pants there and then.

leon knows his time is running out but he’s trying his hardest to savour every moment possible. and against his own shallow will he’s pulling his pants and boxers down, turning you over and shoving his cock into your tight cunt, biting his lip so hard it bleeds, legs faltering slightly at how tight and delectable you truly felt, choking on a moan once more. fuck this, he thinks to himself and ruts his hips back and forth, the way your cunt holds him has him seeing stars.

“ah fuck, shit, take that, take it baby, you’re so fucking sexy” he moans into your neck, losing any restraint or semblance of restraint he ever had, completely lost in the ecstasy of fucking his girl. even if you had no idea you were his girl. he had to admit he was reaching his edge much quicker than he would have liked to but, he had years of you to come and he pulls out before he reaches his high, splattering his thick cum over your back and shoulders, pornographic moan leaving his chapped lips.

he pulls away, pulling his pants up quickly and admiring his damage properly this time, before shifting his phone out his pocket, leaning down to kiss your covered cheek. “smile honey,” he teases your unconscious body, smirking and snapping a photo before he slinks back out of your room, softly closing the door and starting his commute back home. “see you tomorrow.” he says to the wind.

#leon kennedy x reader #dark leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon re4 #leon kennedy #dark fic leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy smut drabble #leon kennedy smut #yandere leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #re smut #resident evil smut

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jaysgirlx · 7 months

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I think I NEED a some head canons about about Jason Todd meeting his lovely girlfriend at one of Bruces annoying get together at the opera where an ballet piece plays as entertainment, just with the slight specialty that she’s the ballerina

Btw love your work <3

Jason Todd Gala Meet Cute Headcanons

— To be frank, Jason Todd hates galas but when Dick doesn't want to go alone or when he wants to support Bruce or Cass he'll be there. Family is Family.

— When he first sees you his jaw nearly drops because he's never seen anybody as stunning as you. As graceful as a swan, you glide across the stage with ethereal elegance. Each movement is a dance of precision and passion, your body a canvas painting a story of love and longing. Jason Tood was now indeed a lovesick boy.

— You've got the poor boy hooked, watching you like you're his last meal. Even Dick could see, that you caught Jason's eye. At the end of your performance, you took a bow and you looked right over at him and smiled.

— He wasn't sure if that had really been meant for him but that didn't stop him from blushing a bit. So he's nearly on the floor begging Bruce for your name or to at least introduce him and he agrees just so Jason would calm down.

— Bruce invites you to join the rest of the gala if you're interested, since his son was very fond of your performance, "Oh is he the one with the little white strip in his hair? he's quite cute isn't he?".

—Dick's grinning ear to ear, watching his brother stare at you from across the room, while guides you to one of the private bathrooms. He'd never seen Jason so whipped for a girl who he didn't even know.

— Once you finally finished changing, you found yourself drinking a glass of red wine, standing in the corner alone. You usually don't come to events like these but since you were personally invited by Bruce Wayne you saw no reason not to.

— When Jason spots you from across the room, he debates on waiting for Bruce to introduce the two of you but just says fuck it and goes for it.

— "I didn't know ballerinas, came to galas like these, there's not much fun doll," he asks putting his hand out for yours. You hesitate but place yours on top of his, allowing him to kiss the back of your hand. "Only when pretty boys like you request for us," you say giggling, and now for sure you're fucked. Jason Todd wasn't just cute, he was hot.

— He butters you up by asking your favorite composer, "Well I've never performed any of his music but I'm quite the fan of Vivaldi" you say while he leans against the wall next to you. He asks the questions and lets you do most of the talking since he'd prefer to listen to you. By the end of the night, there was nothing Jason didn't know about you but it seemed like you hadn't gotten to know him.

— He had spent the whole night flirting with you and buttering you up and you're not even surprised when he asks to walk you out, "Why not but only on one condition, you have to take me out on a date and let me get to know you this time" and Jason had no objections to that.

— Now you've got the Jason Todd following behind you, people are whispering and watching the two of you. How'd you manage to pull one of Bruce Wayne's sons, especially the standoffish one? You weren't even his girlfriend yet and people couldn't stop talking about you and exactly what Jason wanted, well at least before he made you his.

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realisticfanfictions · 8 months

Text

Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I love the Waitress!Reader so much for OPLA, so I've decided to do another one! I had to split this up into multiple parts, cause this ended up being a bit long. (Link to part two.)

Word Count is 4,829. Hope you enjoy!

"Where the fuck are my entrees?!" Your voice echoed in the enclosed space, cutting through the melodic and rhythmic sounds of frying, chopping and other things that went on in a kitchen. You brushed past another waitress who wisely got out of your way, your heels clicking against the tiles as you marched up to the pass and slammed your copy of the meal ticket down. "Chef!" You called out, pushing back a strand of your hair as you scanned the chefs who were cooking at a ferocious pace. You locked eyes with an unfortunate new chef, but despite him immediately looking at his feet and trying to walk by, you reached through the window and pulled him by the collar. "Who the hell is on entrees?" He stumbled over his words and you groaned in frustration at his pathetic attempt at the English language.

"That's me." You pushed him back and looked past the cowering chef at the man who had just spoken up, your boyfriend and the love of your life, Sanji. His normally pressed and tidy chef attire was in disarray with his shirt untucked and his sleeves stained with various sauces. He sounded hoarse and was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he cooked some type of meat, flipping it over in the pan to cook it evenly. Intense concentration was etched into his face and the way he scrunched his nose was adorable, but right now you couldn't think of anything else but punching it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a nearby busboy ran in front of you and you snarled at him. "Watch it, asshole!" You refocused your attention back on the blonde in front of you. "I have thirty-eight tables out there with at least four head a table, and only two waitresses working the floor-!"

He shook his head and his pan aggressively hit the stove top each time he moved it. "You know, it sounds so hard to look pretty and run around in heels all night, but I actually have a real job-"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. And I'd appreciate it if I didn't have you bitching in my ear all night!" He threw some butter in the pan and began to bast the meat.

"Then maybe, if you were actually good at your 'real job'," You said with quotation marks. "Then you'd tell me why the shit it takes thirty-five goddamn minutes for a premade french onion soup!"

He whipped around with a laddle in his hand and he marched over to the pass. You both bent down to see each other through the window. "Hey, if I had any fucking help around here I would have gotten that to you twenty minutes ago, but I'm stuck here-"

"And here we go!" You exclaimed as you threw up your hands dramatically and walked through the swinging doors. You avoided Pattie walking out with a tray of fresh bread and popped on an apron attached to a nearby hook.

"-with my thumb up my arse because apparently no one knows how to plate a damn steak in this kitchen!" He moved around you as you took his place, grabbing the offending meat and placing it atop of the mashed potatoes.

Annoyed, you grabbed the garnish. "Well, where the hell's the plating station?"

Sanji came back and unceremoniously dropped a large stock pot next to you. He bent down to look you in the eye and threw his hands up in the air. "He quit."

Your eyes widened and followed him as he walked to the other side of you and started plating beside you. "He what?"

"He fucking quit! Just like every other bitch who couldn't handle Tuesdays at the Baratie." His brows furrowed and he let out a small shout of frustration. "Whoever the fuck did the halibut, refry it!" He yelled as he set it off to the side. "Just 'cause we're busy doesn't mean you can push out a shit and pass it off as fine dining!"

You plated another order and put it under the heat lamp at the pass, then rang the bell, but no one came. "And we're short-staffed on waitresses too!" You exclaimed and spotted the busboy from before, "Oi! You! Get off your ass and start serving!" You threw your ticket-book and pen at him, which he barely caught from where he was sitting.

"B-But I'm washing dishes-!"

You dramatically gestured around. "We aren't even sending anything out, so unless you've been storing them up your rectum, what fucking dishes are you washing?!" You grabbed the french onion soup in the stock pot that Sanji had given you and quickly poured it into three bowls laced with garnish on top. "Take these to 12, and the steak to 24. Tell 12 that they'll get a free dessert in about twenty minutes. Well? Get a move on! You aren't getting paid to sit there and look pretty, 'cause you sure as hell ain't fucking pretty!" He scrambled to pick them up and he quickly ran out of the kitchen.

"That turned me on more than I'd like to admit." Sanji appeared beside you with another plate and rang the service bell. "If we weren't busy I'd kiss you, darling." He exclaimed as he grabbed a handful of garnish and placed it atop of the plate.

"Oi, fuckface." When he looked over, you quickly pressed a kiss to his lips and grabbed the metal tray of halibut. "Now, let's get these pretentious pricks fed!"

You both worked side by side, barking orders at each other and bickering over every little thing you could - even Zeff yelled at you both to shut up. But it worked. Within minutes, you both had worked through the back orders and finally got to a point where you weren't struggling to complete orders from guests who'd been waiting for hours. When the last table left, you and Sanji just about collapsed. Leaning against the cool wall tile with you by his side, he sighed. "That was definitely one of our busiest days," He said with pure relief that it was finally over.

You couldn't remain standing and slid down the wall, your high heels clicking as you sat down. "Yeah, who knew so many people would wanna celebrate Father's Day?" You replied sarcastically, but a playful smile told your boyfriend that you weren't being mean. He softly chuckled and followed suit, sliding down the wall until he reached the floor with a groan.

He pulled out his cigarettes. "I've earned one of these." He says as he puts it between his lips and waits for you to light it. You roll your eyes and oblige, taking out your lighter and lighting the end of it for him. He took a slow drag, closed his eyes, savoured it, and then exhaled out the smoke.

"You almost make lung cancer look sexy." You remarked with a grin, and he returned it with his own charming, beautiful smile.

His eyes slowly flicked up and down. "And you always make yelling and shouting look so sexy." He licked his lips and leaned in, giving you a kiss that lingered. Your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the small respite from the craziness you had both just experienced. Even when the kiss eventually ended, neither one of you moved away. "Are you working tonight?" He asked under his breath.

You sighed and pecked his lips. "In two hours."

"Till?"

"Four."

"Shit."

"I know." You pressed your lips against his once more and moved some hair out of his face. "But, I'm not working tomorrow so we can sleep in."

He sighed. "I start at nine tomorrow."

"Till?"

"Six."

"Shit."

"I know." You both quietly laughed and pressed your noses together, then rubbed them together while stealing kisses and giggling like you used to when you were kids.

You'd been at the Baratie ever since you were fifteen, and you'd been dating Sanji since you were sixteen. It wasn't really something you both had officially decided on, nor did either one of you do this big, elaborate confession that made both of you ugly-cry. It happened slowly over time. Many customers and fellow staff would constantly tease you both with things like, "Where's your girlfriend, Sanji?" and, "Aw! You both are so cute together!" At first you both denied it, but eventually you just... stopped correcting people. You were each other's first kiss, first love... first love, and despite how it looks from the outside, you couldn't be happier.

"Oi, Sanji." You called out as you leaned closer to the mirror to focus on your eyeshadow. "Be careful, there's been a lot of pirate activity lately. They might stop by, so Zeff has officially-unofficially instated a no-tolerance policy for- Sanji!" You laughed when your boyfriend wrapped his arms around you and you struggled to do your makeup while Sanji hung off of you and pressed kisses along your cheek. "You toad! You're going to ruin my smokey eye."

He playfully moaned. "But you're so sexy," He whined and pulled back enough to give you puppy eyes. "And you shouldn't work tonight if there's pirates anyway."

"I still have to work." You replied, giving up on doing your makeup and stealing a quick kiss from him. "I'm the head of front-of-house, I can't just ring up Zeff and say, 'hey, your son wants to sleep with me so I can't come in today!'"

"No, you can't." At the sound of his voice, you looked up to see that your boss had entered you and Sanji's shared room. He would have seen the neatly pressed and ironed button-downs wrapped around hangers, and two mismatching pairs of high heels strewn about the floor. His eyes met yours. "We have a full house of rich, but important pricks tonight, and I need all hands on deck. If someone calls in sick, drag them out of bed if you have to."

Your boyfriend pouted playfully. "But she never gets any time off, can't we just-"

"(Y/N) is our head of house, she's too important to lose tonight." Zeff straightened up and crossed his arms over. "Little Eggplant, you can't distract (Y/N) from doing her job. Unlike you, she has to work to stay here." The old man looked over at you and you nodded, you knew that you were a staff member first and foremost - being the girlfriend of his adopted son was second to that.

Sanji's smile tightened, and he stood up. "I know." His blue eyes flashed with something that you meant he wanted to say something but didn't. His smile returned when he looked at you. "I'll see you in the morning."

As he brushed past Zeff and walked out of the room, you furrowed your eyebrows at your boss and father figure. "Now that's one way to get him pissed off at you." The words came out a little more aggressive than you meant to, but you didn't bother correcting yourself.

He sighed and turned to leave. "Leave it alone, (Y/N)."

"And one way to get me pissed off at you too." You dropped your eyeshadow onto the table and followed after him. His wide frame took up quite a bit of space in the hallway, but you squeezed past him to block his path.

Zeff groaned when he saw you and squeezed the bridge of his nose, then released it to gesture while he spoke. "(Y/N), I apologise if you felt offended. You're a part of our family, and--"

"I don't care about that." You scoffed in disbelief and gawked at his lack of social awareness. "You must be really thick in the skull if you think I'm upset about that."

His face scrunched up. "Then what are you upset about? Hm? What are you upset about now?" He gestured behind you. "I have dinner service to prep for," He started to list off on his fingers. "I have a team of flaky waitresses-your team of flaky waitresses to deal with, and I need to make sure that we have enough lamb being delivered for our special tonight. So what could it possibly be that is so important you're holding me up for?"

You counted to five in your head before opening your mouth to speak. "I love him. And I don't give a rat's ass that you sign my paycheck, or give me a roof over my head. You don't make Sanji, my boyfriend and your son, feel shitty just because you think it'll toughen him up. And you certainly don't use me to do that." You keep your gaze locked onto his. "You ever do that again? I walk." You stepped backward and straightened up. "I'll get the team ready for service."

You never regretted what you said. Was your tone harsher than it should've been? Yes, but you needed to get your point across to him. There wasn't any time to think about it though, because it was Friday night and thirty minutes before opening - you didn't have the time to regret what you said.

"Ladies!" You called out, then smiled. "And Sapi." Said fishman smiled at your acknowledgement as your team of staff gathered around to form a semi-circle in front of you. You held up your checklist. "We have fifteen V.I.P tables tonight. I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour. That means no frowning, no blowing your nose on the customer's napkins, and no- oh my God, Macy. If you don't shut the fuck up." The red-lipped, pigtail-wearing waitress jolted back from where she was gossiping with another waitress. You raise your brows at her as if to ask if she was done and rolled your eyes. "And no unprofessionalism." You finished with a glare.

Spai cleared his throat. "How many free tables do we have tonight?"

You looked back at the clipboard and flipped over the page, counting quietly to yourself. "There's two at seven and one at eight. The two at seven are one and eight, and the one at eight is seven. One can be for eight, but don't offer seven to under six because seven and six are over eight. Got it?"

The room was quiet for a moment, and Sapi slowly blinked. "May I have a copy of that, please?"

"I'll bring one to your station," You looked around. "Any questions?" Silence. "Good. Now, put on your fakest smile and happy ga-ga voice - we've got a line of ships waiting to be fed!"

"Let's do this, team!" Macy's voice screeched out and she was met with silence.

You exhaled gruffly and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "Macy, I swear to- let's do this, team!" This time, it was met with a round of cheer as they dispersed to familiarise themselves with their tables for the night.

A pleased sigh escaped you, content with your small but mighty team that you had managed to drag out of bed to work the floor. A glance to the suspiciously blank specials menu made you curse under your breath. You were going to have to talk to Zeff to get tonight's specials. With a defeated sigh, you clipped your pen to your shirt and sucked in a deep breath, before making your way to the kitchen where it sounded like food preparations were already underway.

"...and get those lamb in the cold room!" Zeff's voice was apparent the second you walked through those doors. The kitchen was a mess of people marching backwards and forwards like ants while Zeff, their queen, barked orders as they passed by. You thought about just turning around and pretending that the fight had never happened in the first place, but the old man spotted you and waved you over with a finger. "What can I get you, Sprout?" You breathed out a sigh of relief, hearing his nickname for you was like a wave of fresh air.

You straightened up and grabbed your pen. "Hey geezer, what's the specials tonight?"

He waited for you to finish writing "Specials" across the top of your sheet of paper. "We have Lobster Thermidor paired with the 1500s Chardonnay, or a White Burgundy if they snub the Chardonnay. Then we have classic Red-Wine Braised Lamb Shanks that you can pair with any Grenache you find." He slid a piece of paper to you. "These are the prices. I only want you handling checks tonight."

Out of sheer habit, you slipped the piece of paper into your bra. "Why's that?"

"Because someone messed up the till last night, and I want someone I can trust running it."

That made your heart clench. You sighed. "Look, Zeff," You started and lowered your clipboard. "I'm sorry for stepping out of line earlier. I was angry. Sanji was trying to get some 'us' time because we haven't even been awake at the same time for the last couple months. And when we have it's been with me running the floor and him- you know what I mean. Look, I'd never walk out on you, Zeff."

His face, as always, was blank, but you can tell he was processing what you had just said. He was quiet, but then he nodded. "Get those specials on the board. We open in ten." You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, then turned around. "Don't fuss, little brussel sprout."

A smile wormed its way onto your face and you looked over your shoulder at him. "Fussin' ain't worth fussing over. Isn't that what you say?" You barely dodged an incoming head of lettuce.

"Good evening, welcome to the Baratie. My name is (Y/N), can I get you started with some drinks tonight?" You were a natural at this. It didn't matter if you were having an "anti-person day", as Sanji called it, there was no denying that you had talent.

The man with soft, pink hair hummed and looked over the menu. His brass knuckles glistening under the dim lighting of the restaurant. "What are your specials for the night?"

A polite smile went a long way. "The chef has prepared for you a selection of the most wonderful meals made only from the finest and freshest ingredients in the Ease Blue. We have Lobster Thermidor paired with a Chardonnay that I find adds a bit of a fruity, uplifting compliment to the meal. And we have our high-in-demand Lamb Shanks braised in a nice red wine, and paired with only the best Grenache you can find for miles." You didn't bother telling him that it was the same Grenache you had found in the back of the freezer from four months ago.

"That sounds lovely, and what is the cost?"

You quietly hissed and looked over at the beautiful blonde who was sitting across from him, then leaned in to whisper. "I find it's best not to discuss such things on a date. You wouldn't want her to think she isn't worth it, right?"

Well, that certainly worked. He slowly looked between you and his date, who smiled sweetly and encircled the rim of her glass with her perfectly manicured french tips. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "You're right. We'll take one of each, and I'll have to rely on you for what pairs best."

You took the menu he offered with a smile and a nod. "Very well sir, I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Our bar is open all night." And with a wink, you danced away to the kitchen to place 'his' order. It was easy with men like that. All you had to do was dangle their woman's respect in front of them and they'd eat shit just to keep her smiling. But despite the monotony of it at times, you met a lot of interesting people from different backgrounds. You gave a small wave at the man at table two, a regular who had just come back from his royal ballet tour appearance and was with his rich, aristocrat girlfriend, who he said wasn't feeling well.

An set of voices, loud and uncouth, came from above and you stopped to cast a glance upwards. They were... pirates? Well, Zeff did say that they'd been more active around this area as of late, so it wasn't that much of a surprise - especially since there was already a couple tables of them. Sapi looked a little overwhelmed, so you sighed and grabbed a nearby waitress. "Could you take an order to the kitchen for me? It's table three with the two specials, two too. The man at two in the tutu wants it blue, but not at two with Ms. Sue in the red shoes. She has a touch of the flu, so any red meat or roux will make her spew. Got it?"

She blinked. "I think so?"

You patted her on the shoulder and briskly floated up the stairs with as much grace as a head waitress could muster. Their conversation slowly grew louder and you were able to hear some of their conversation. "My apologies, but I don't accept money for-"

"Is there something I can help you with?" At your words, the group looked over and Sapi, who had been trying to refuse some berri the orange-haired woman was offering him, visibly relaxed.

"Nothing is the matter, this group was just leaving." He answered and looked at them to see if they got the hint. The woman sighed in defeat and pocketed her cash. You looked over at the two young men leant against the railing staring into the restaurant below, they were very excited and looked as if they hadn't eaten a proper meal for a few days.

With your mind set, you glanced over at the time, then straightened up and smiled. "You know what? It's seven, so I believe we might have a booth available if that's suitable for your needs?"

She smiled and breathed out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you, here-"

You held up a hand before she could reach into her pocket. "Save that for your meal." With a quick nod to Sapi, you stepped aside and gestured toward the staircase. "Follow me." The man with green hair and three swords rubbed you the wrong way almost the second you laid eyes on him, and you could tell he felt the same way. It was almost a sense of mutual familiarity. But you broke off eye contact to lead the rest of this strange, rambunctious crew further into the Baratie. "The Baratie was established by our current owner Zeff, and we recently celebrated our tenth anniversary."

The boy in the straw hat gawked at everything he saw and heard you say, and smiled brightly. "This place looks like it serves good food!"

That brought a smile to your face. "It does," You said as you guided them to their booth amidst other pirates and similar rough-looking guests. "And I don't just say that because my boyfriend's the sous chef."

"Are you sure about that?" The guy in a pirate costume asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and laughing along with his young friend.

You smiled along and shook your head. "I'll let you guys get settled in and will return in about five minutes with a menu. Please enjoy the music." With a few friendly waves and a "see you in a bit!" from the straw hat boy, you turned and walked toward the back of the room to collect a few menus.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and your boyfriend appeared looking more than a bit annoyed. You didn't even think he was on the line tonight, but your attention was drawn to two men who had began to cause a bit of a ruckus. You weren't close enough to hear what was being said, but you tucked the menus under your armpit and darted toward the pair that were now being consoled by Sanji. "...we don't waste food, and there's no fighting at the Baratie." You slowed your walk toward them and continued at a crawl. The man you had served not that long ago was dealing with a rowdy pirate. You heard something that sounded like a threat and Sanji spoke up again, his voice cutting through the argument before it had the chance to escalate. "And I'd like to pour you each a glass of Ithürzburger Stein. On the house."

The pirate nodded. "Okay, I'll have that drink." His brows furrowed and his voice grew irrate. "After he apologies for his bad manners!"

"Over my dead body." That was certainly the wrong answer. With a growl, they both lunged for each other and you sped toward them, watching as Sanji, in a blur, flipped over the table and kicked each of them.

The pink haired man grunted and got back up on his feet, drawing his gun but then froze when he felt something cold dig into his back. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." You warned, shoving your own gun into his back and whispered in his ear. "Drop it." Like the coward he was, he did and you effortlessly slammed the butt of your weapon into his temple - knocking him out cold.

You motioned for a nearby waitress to deal with the unconscious men, then snapped your attention to Sanji who picked up his plate of scones and continued his walk. "No cause for alarm, folks. Please, enjoy your meals." He called out and you quickly pocketed your gun back into your thigh-holster, smoothing out your dress and turning to the waitress who had arrived at your side.

After gesturing for her to take them out the back door, you readjusted yourself and quickly walked up to Sanji's side who's forced smile made you tilt your head in confusion. He shook his head, he didn't want to talk about it just yet. You both made the few steps over to the table you had just seated and, despite his mood, he set down the plate with his usual grace. "Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?" While he spoke, you placed down some menus and tried to ignore the straw hat boy who was currently stuffing his face full of our complimentary scones.

The woman grabbed a menu from you with a smile, but the others had their eyes locked onto Sanji. "One of everything, please!" The straw hat boy called out without taking a look at the menu you had walked twenty feet in high heels to collect.

"Any drinks?" Your boyfriend offered as he shoved his hands into his pocket, unconsciously looking for his packet of smokes that you knew he couldn't light. You briefly wondered if you should offer him a smoke break to calm him down. "One of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?"

"Giving us the hard sell, huh?" She asked as she slowly lowered her menu and you found it increasingly harder not to smack the blond.

And, as usual, his entire demeanour changed. "Apologies, madam. I didn't see you there. Would you care for an aperitif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock. Or perhaps you'd like a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet-" He winked. "-for someone sweet."

"Something wrong with your eye?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You cleared your throat. "No, but there is something wrong with his head if he thinks he can flirt with another girl in front of his girlfriend."

That garnered a few giggles, snickers and mock gasps from the table. Sanji chuckled and turned to you. "I hope I'm not in the doghouse tonight?" He pulled you in and gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, but you waved him off.

"We'll see." You shot him a not-so-serious warning look and focused back on the table. "Sorry about that, did I hear you were after some drinks?"

The green-haired male looked you up and down, faint recognition in his eyes as he cleared his throat. "Can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

The pirate-costumed man spoke up. "Two beers. I usually have three, but-"

"And a milk!"

You scribbled down their orders, and Sanji's hand crept around your waist. "Three beers and a milk. And, uh, for madam?"

"Water."

"Still, sparking, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

You stopped writing and slowly looked up to your boyfriend. "...Taken, Sanji." You reminded him and he stared back at you innocently.

Even the woman leaned back in confusion. "Regular water, in a regular glass. Thanks."

"Right away." He said with a wistful expression, and with the roll of your eyes, you dragged him away before he made a further fool of himself.

AN: Sorry about ending it there, but it was getting WAY too long and I figured it'd be easier to break it up into multiple pieces rather than having one solid chunk of 12k words. Or however long this fic ends up being. I'm actually kinda digging it, so I may continue to write it for a while! Also, I have no idea how old Sanji is meant to be in this universe? According to the internet (and the massive reddit fight I accidentally spawned) it's a tossup between 19 and 26 (OP Sanji's vs the actor's actual age.)

I also hope you appreciate the word-puns. I don't know why but I really enjoy writing them and love to include them in my writing-

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year

Text

@steddie-week, day 3: discover.

When Steve is five years old, his mom catches him sneaking cookies before dinner.

The jar is set up on top of the refrigerator, porcelain white in the shape of a teddy bear, and Steve isn’t supposed to be able to reach it. Unfortunately for the Harrington’s, their son is athletic and agile even as a child so of course, he discovers that if he slides a chair over to the counter, he can climb onto the beige laminate and reach the jar on his tippy toes. The head of the bear is removed easily, a cookie (or two) are snatched, and no one is the wiser. His devious heist comes to a halt one night after tee-ball practice when he thinks that his mom is in the shower. Steve ends up being caught with his hand literally in the cookie jar.

It’s a story his mom tells at dinner parties and family gatherings throughout his childhood, over and over with the same details. Steve hears it enough to visualize what his face must’ve looked like— wide eyes, mouth ajar, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline, cheeks and ears turning pink.

A few months into (finally) dating Eddie Munson, Steve finds his boyfriend standing in the living room mere feet from where Steve had tried to steal those cookies years ago wearing what he imagines is the exact same expression.

There’s no teddy bear-shaped cookie jar, but Eddie certainly looks caught: caught in a moment of jock euphoria, that is.

When Steve gets home from his trip to Chicago with Robin a day early, he decides to surprise Eddie rather than call ahead and it may be the best decision he’s made in quite some time because Steve recognizes this sight intimately.

Eddie’s in the middle of the room, bobbing around in front of the television with his hands threading through his hair and tugging in frustration as he yells things like:

“Are your blades dipped in fucking butter?” “The puck goes in the net!” "You can't shoot for shit, just like you can't grow a decent mustache, huh?" “Your job is to use your big ass body to stop the teensy tiny puck from getting around you and that’s a Hell of a lot easier if you stay in the fucking crease!”

He stands in the doorway in shocked silence, watching in bemused wonder. Even in his crouched position, even as he scuttles from side to side with a phantom hockey stick in his hands with the only light in the room coming from the television screen, he's beautiful.

How long has this been going on though? In the years of friendship that eventually led to their relationship, Steve’s never known Eddie to give a single shit about any sort of organized sport that didn’t involve Steve specifically running around in what Eddie calls his "utterly obscene shorts."

Hockey’s never been mentioned, not once, but Eddie knows too much to have randomly picked it up in just the two days Steve’s been gone. A ripple of something that feels like guilt washes over him, unsure of what he’s done to make Eddie feel like he needs to hide this from him.

Long moments pass and Steve continues to go unnoticed when the game rolls into overtime.

“I can’t take much more of this, Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie moans, his hands falling to his knees as he hunches over.

Commentators flash up on the screen and Steve supposes intermission is as good a time as any to interject.

“Would some company help?”

Eddie whips to the right and there it is: wide eyes, mouth ajar, raised eyebrows, flaring nostrils, and the tell-tale darkening of Eddie’s cheeks. Steve only assumes his ears follow suit— they usually do when he’s flustered but Eddie’s hair blocks the view. His hand flies to his chest, startled on top of it all.

The Bruins are going into overtime and his deepest, darkest secret was just unceremoniously discovered.

It’s been a rough day.

Steve just smiles and crosses the threshold into the room, standing next to his boyfriend who looks like all of the air has been vacuumed from his lungs.

“You— you weren’t supposed to be home yet! You scared the shit of me, man!”

“I was trying to surprise you but uh, joke’s on me I guess. Hockey, huh?” Steve gestures at the television with his chin. “Makes sense. It’s fuckin' lawless.”

Eddie’s features settle into something less abashed and more defensive, his eyebrows knitting together and his head tilting to one side just a hair.

“What makes sense? There was just nothing else on. It’s not a crime to flip through the channels, Steve.”

His lies are weak, and even under the best circumstances, the bar for Eddie’s ability to lie is on the floor so that's saying a lot.

“It’s not, no. If it was, you’d probably be doing it,” he teases, nudging their shoulders together. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what the fuck a crease is if you were just casually flipping through.”

“Wait, wait, shit. How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to find out you’ve been holding out on me, Munson.” Steve twists to face Eddie, pointing at the television. “We could’ve been going to games, screaming insults, calling plays together this whole time!”

Eddie groans, titling his head back to look at the ceiling. It’s been a long, long couple of days because even now, Steve can’t stop from staring at the expanse of Eddie’s throat, knowing exactly which spots make him groan for entirely different reasons.

“Okay, fine. You caught me,” Eddie admits, still staring at the ceiling but turning his body away from Steve and waving his arms in defeat. “I’m a fraud. A hypocrite. I enjoy a sport. You cannot imagine how much it pains me to say this out loud.”

“Ah, so we’re doing the dramatic thing about this?” Steve mutters, shaking his head. “Eddie, you’re allowed to like things. You know that, right? You liking a sport doesn’t, I don’t know, make you any less metal or whatever. Least I don’t think so.”

Eddie drops his arms and spins around. “Steve, Stevie, my dear sweet sunshine, I’m not sure if you remember this but I’ve made quite a name and reputation for myself in abject hatred of mainstream… everything. My credibility is destroyed.”

Steve barely chokes back his laughter. Eddie’s sounding and acting more like his Eddie, something equally as endearing as it is ridiculous. He reaches out and pulls Eddie to sit next to him on the couch, not missing the way Eddie glances at the screen to make sure he’s not missing the start of overtime.

“You know,” Steve starts before making air quotes, “a wise brat once told me that when you finish high school, it’s time to move on from primitive concepts like popularity. Or something like that, it was a while ago. Point is, what you staked your claim to in high school doesn’t apply here. You can be weird, and loud, and anti-mainstream, and like hockey. It’s the most violent of popular sports anyways.”

Eddie blinks at him once, then twice, before narrowing his eyes and drawing his lips into a tight smile. “Was the wise brat Henderson? That sounds like Henderson.”

Steve laughs and leans back against the couch. “Sure was. Don’t tell him I quoted him, he’ll never shut the fuck up about it.”

“What brought on a lecture about primitive high school concepts from Dustin Henderson?”

“He was trying to convince me to date Robin when we were spying on what turned out to be evil Russians at Starcourt who had a lab under the mall. It was a whole thing.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.

Eddie nods slowly. “Right, yeah, the mall that exploded?”

“Yep. Same one.”

“Y’know, I should’ve known you had something to do with that.” Eddie smiles at him, wide and bright, and it’s a strange moment for Steve to realize he’s in love.

He’s wholly, unconditionally, disgustingly in love with Eddie Munson, with every side and facet, with every sparkling edge of the multifaceted prism of him. Steve’s entire body sighs with relief as his heart finally, finally catches up with the rest of him.

But there’s an overtime period about to start, and unlike this playoff game, Steve knows he has all the time he could ever need to tell him, show him, exactly how he feels. He starts by cheering for a team he knows shit about, and then by rubbing Eddie’s back when he curls over onto his knees after the Devils score the winning shot.

“Hate to break it to ya, Ed, this is very jock behavior. Think there might be a little jock in you after all.” He jokes, running his hand from the middle of Eddie’s back to the nape of his neck, circling his thumb gently into the flesh there.

“No the fuck there isn’t,” he mumbles, sitting up straight and turning devilish smile on Steve. “But I’d like there to be.”

a very, very happy birthday to @hexiewrites! you know that I couldn't let your birthday pass without writing Eddie as a Bruins fan. and I peppered in some of our and @maxineholtzmann's comments and insults from the playoffs liveblogging on discord. <3 hope you have a phenomenal day!!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steddieweek2023 #myfic #myblurbs

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