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stars-for-circe · 10 days

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Firsts

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Tags / cw: weed, alcohol, implied making out, college party au, dealer!Ellie, tiny bit suggestive

The smell of weed was what first drew you outside to her. Well, it was a college party - there was going to be weed. But this was different. It was different. Somewhere, through that euphoric dizziness made from a punch that was more moonshine than mango juice, you smelled roses.

Like some fucked up cartoon, your feet carried your body out of the house, the air inside now warm from the oversupply of body heat and drunken dancing. God you were hot. A palm against your flushed red face once hidden from the colourful ambiance of the living room cooled you, as you weakly shoved your way around until you reached the door. Thank fuck.

“No, fuck-!”

You tripped. Either from your untied laces or the small ledge between tile kitchen and wooden porch, you couldn’t remember, but either way, you now found yourself face fucking first on the damp porch. Shit, you were drunk.

…And it felt nice. Really nice. So nice, in fact, that you couldn’t help but nestle your face against the cold floor, too focused on your slowing heart rate, your lowering temperature - the music from inside only detectable now in faint vibrations through the floor. You could stay here for a while, you thought. It was so quiet, and so cold and comfy,

“N’ it smells like roses…” you giggled to yourself.

“Yea? Think it’s just the weed, baby.” Ellie snickered to herself. And you jumped.

“Gah- holy shit!” You whisper-yelled and snapped your head up at her voice, body still splayed frozen like a starfish on the floor as your eyes adjusted to the dark. A couple metres in front of you sat Ellie Williams on the stairs, barely visible, and only by the small dot of light at the end of her joint and the soft glow of the street lamp.

She stared at you, while blinking slowly, a grin lazily painting itself across her face. You glared at her back, for destroying your peace, as she took another drag from that stupid joint. Your relaxed mind pinpointed the source of the roses - now stronger than ever - but it was too relaxed to understand what it really was. And Ellie noticed your staring.

“It’s uh, rose infused. My own special blend.” She waved it around as she spoke, looking proud of her creation. And the overstuffed baggie of cash by her side proved why.

“You wanna try some, cutie?”

You sat up at a leisurely pace, struggling a little in the dark. Then, you huffed out a laugh at this whole situation as you looked down at the floor in shame. Of all people you ran into, it was the fucking drug dealer. The only person you would have nothing in common with. You were 20 years old, for fucks sake, and you had never smoked weed.

“I um…can’t.”

“Why, already high? You look it.” She snickered again. Strong fucking strain, you thought.

“No, I just….can’t.”

“Oh.” Ellie furrowed her brows, leaning against the railing as she tried to find the words. God, this was so embarrassing, you just wanted to go back inside. And you almost did - twisting yourself around and leaning back on your feet to stand.

“…..want me to teach you?” She called out, waiting for your answer, and when you didn’t give one, she laughed, this time. Seriously, was it the fucking rose shit or what?

“Just-” Ellie tried saying, broken up with giggles.

“-come here. ‘M gonna try something.” Hesitantly, you tiptoed over to sit opposite her on the stairs, curious - and a little nervous - at what Ellie was planning. She took another deep drag, before sitting up straight and crossing her legs, focusing on you. And by now, you were blaming the butterflies in your stomach entirely on the alcohol.

“So, y’ever heard of shotgunning?”

Oh, fuck.

“Uh- yeah. Somewhat.”

And maybe if you weren’t so drunk, and if it wasn’t so dark, you would have noticed Ellie’s eyes trailing down to your lips. And maybe how her smart choice of shoes that night, a platform pair of converse, tucked itself perfectly between her legs - the slightest of pressure to ease the ache forming. But her eyes snapped back, all bleary and red, as she focused her attention back on making eye contact once again.

“And you won’t get nervous if I just…..get close or anything?” She was whispering now, already closing the distance bit by bit, a small smile adorning her face.

“No.”

She took another drag.

“And you won’t get nervous if I do this?” Her voice even softer now, as her hand - warm from resting in the pocket of her hoodie - gently cupped your face. The smoke coming from her mouth making your eyes water at the proximity, and the smell of roses making you heavy headed.

“No.” By now you were whispering, too. And she paused, eyes flicking to your lips again, this time lasting longer.

“Then close your eyes, baby.”

Through the rosy haze of weed smoke and alcohol, you could barely register her command, closing your eyes ever so slowly. You heard a small a small hitch of breath, and then a long deep puff of the joint in front of you. The hand cupping your face shifted slightly as Ellie rubbed her thumb gently along your skin, asking you to open your mouth. And when you did, you could have sworn you felt her thumb brush against your bottom lip, the both of you almost in a trance with each other, before the warm smoke blew into your mouth.

Fuck, was this really happening? You almost forgot to inhale it. But you did, in the end - the smell and taste of pungent weed lined with pink, airy roses sinking deep in your lungs. You let it sit there, resisting the strong urge to cough, before opening your eyes and exhaling slowly in tandem. And what a sight you were met with.

Ellie, with red, droopy eyes, mouth still open slightly as she watched your lips move and smoke billow out. Ellie, with the tiniest of curious smiles on her face as she watched your eyes slow to widen at the closeness of her face to yours. Ellie, coming even closer to your lips the longer you sat there.

“So, how’d you rate it?”

“Eh, a six….” You thought out loud.

“…I smell like roses now, though.” And you started giggling, as you stared at Ellie’s playfully unamused glare at your rating.

“First of all, fuck you - a six? Second of all, you smell like weed with roses.” She retorted, pinching your cheek softly. Fuck, her hand was still there, too. You tried to play your nervousness off, poking her in the centre of her chest as you tried to play back.

“And you smell good.” You whispered teasingly, leaning close once again. But Ellie, thank god for her higher tolerance, predicted exactly where you were going. Moving her hand from your cheek to the arm outstretched to her chest, pushing it to splay widely against her, trapping it there at the wrist, she met you in the middle. And your lips, between the thick smoke of it all, just breath touched. It went quiet again. But the heartbeat you felt between your fingers broke the silence each time it beat.

And you couldn’t see her expression so late at night - or so early in the morning, you should say - but the way her breath hitched, the way the soft beat of the music from inside of the house went quiet in your head, and the way the butterflies in your stomach became so very present-

“Do I smell good enough to kiss?”

You hesitated once again, hand once outstretched again her chest now closed in a loose fist.

“C’mon, baby…..you can’t do this, too?”

Oh, fuck you, you thought, stealing the joint and taking a hard drag, much to Ellie’s surprise - and amusement.

“Yeah, you gonna teach me or what, Williams?”

The joint now smoked the the butt, and crumbling to bits as Ellie scoffed, snatching it out of your grasp and flicked it onto the driveway. Both her hands free now as they grabbed your face and pulled you in.

“Better be more than a six…”

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

#tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut

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mikaikaika · 4 months

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Tubbo : Yesterday I was with a friend who's a little stoner and I got sent a drug dealer's shopping list and let me read it to you - Mango Haze, Candyland, Alaskan fun de fuck, Rainbow bells, Papaya punch and Glue trap and it was so funny

???????? Enigma of a streamer I swear

#tubbo #qsmp

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simmerandwrite · 1 year

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Sink Into Me - 01 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Pairing: mob boss!Steve Rogers x plus size female reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: canon level violence (series), body image issues (series)

Notes: So, this just happened, okay? On the one hand, it helped me unslump when it came to writing. On the other, it's been a very serious distraction from other important writing, currently. I promise you a fun ride with this one, though. if you see me in the wild, i’m @simmerandcry

---

You were goddamn grateful it was Friday. The entire week had felt like walking through wet, heavy sand - each day had been harder and harder to survive and you were so happy to be finally on the other side of the busy season at work. And you had rewarded yourself with your favourite overpriced smoothie from Juice Press - the Pineapple Mango Tornado.

It was the easiest way to reward yourself not only after the long work week, but for agreeing to go to a ‘Happy Hour’ spin class with your old roommate Maria. Despite your insistence that the average spin bike would not support your hips and ass, she had peer pressured you into the entire thing. Mostly based on the premise that she required your opinion on the spin instructor and whether or not she was out of Maria’s league.

By the time the class was over, you decided that A. yes, the instructor was super hot, and yes, Maria should pursue, and that B. spin was not being added into your new fitness routine. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to walk soon enough because your quads were still on fire.

You hoped that your dog Hercules, a rescued pitbull staffy mix, would be happy with a very short walk that evening.

The next street you cut down was relatively quiet and you were grateful for that, too. You weren’t afraid to admit how much of a creature of habit you were, regularly choosing the same path to and from the subway in the most efficient manner. Of course, you tended to notice when things changed though - like how the scaffolding was finally removed outside of the building that was being renovated just up from the corner.

When you realized a new restaurant was opening up, you were both excited and disappointed. You loved having new places to check out but trendy restaurants always brought extra foot traffic and real traffic to the neighbourhood.

(Maria, on the other hand, insisted there was no chance the restaurant was going to be real and open to the public anyway. Apparently she’d heard a rumour the owner was connected to the mob. The mob. You couldn’t get over how dramatic she could be.)

This new place (that was definitely not run by the mob) had a patio going in too and well, that made up for the potential disappointment of overcrowding at least. Just as you were approaching and gawking at the patio furniture, you caught the eye of a man exiting the brown paper covered door pulling a phone up to his ear. And holy shit, what a man.

Dressed in a blue linen suit, whomever this person was exuded a kind of confidence you couldn’t even bear thinking about for too long. When your moment of eye contact continued for one too many seconds, you panicked and reached for your phone because apparently anything was enough of a distraction to keep from hyperventilating over this man’s stare.

By the grace of God, he flipped his sunglasses down from his head and ran a hand through his perfectly messy coiffed hairstyle as he made his phone call.

Keep it together. All you needed to do was keep staring straight ahead and get on your way home. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, with a message from Maria who was stuck on her subway line as she headed home. She had sent a sweaty faced selfie along with the text.

You took a selfie to reply with, too, featuring your own post-workout face and your smoothie.

Then you heard it.

You turned at a sudden noise behind you, the screeching of tires and a roaring engine pulled you away from your phone. You pivoted on your heel quickly, only to see the sleek black SUV speeding up even more. And not only was it coming closer at a dramatic pace, it seemed to be veering off towards the sidewalk too.

The sidewalk you were standing on. Just a few feet ahead of you, Blue Suit remained oblivious with his back turned and phone to his ear.

For some reason, you sprang into action.

“Hey!” You sprinted ahead of the vehicle as quickly as your heavy legs could carry you, reaching your hand out to the suited man and grasping onto his bicep. With all the force you could muster, you pulled him towards you and you both tumbled to the ground, with your head ricocheting against the stacked tables as you fell towards the concrete sidewalk.

The man landed directly on top of you, unscathed from the car that had crashed into the glass storefront of the future restaurant. His body acted as a shield from the spray of glass and before you could even understand what had happened, the engine revved again. Despite the damage to its front, the SUV backed up and adjusted its path, coming towards where you and this man were laid out.

He grabbed onto your shoulders with a tight grip, rolling you both through the shards of glass and closer towards the tables and the building. Just quickly enough too, as the SUV narrowly missed you both before it sped away from the scene.

What the fuck just happened?

You heard shouting as your ears rang, the raspy sound of Blue Suit’s voice from above you as he removed himself from practically covering your entire body as you remained laid out on the ground. You tried to pull yourself up too but you were thwarted by the spinning feeling in your head.

“Steve - what the fuck happened?”

Hah, you and whoever had just run out from the restaurant were clearly sharing the same sentiments.

“I don’t fucking know - but I can only guess it was..” Blue Suit trailed off, shaking his head of whatever that thought was as he kneeled before you. You blinked a few times, realizing he was speaking to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me. You okay? What’s your name? Did you hit your head? Are you in any pain? Can you sit up?”

Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus on him. Narrowed blue eyes laced with concerns stared down at you. You took in a slow breath. “That’s a lot of questions..” You clenched your hand then released it, running your fingers over the ground for your phone.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

His question caught you off guard. “What? Are you seriously mad that I..” You tried to sit up and immediately recognized the bad idea. How hard did you hit your head? “Oh my god, I’m going to..”

“Woah, woah. Okay, just stay here on the ground, angel.” Above you, he adjusted and shed his jacket, folding it quickly in his hands and cradling the back of your head to place it under as a neck support. “No passing out. Oh, shit. Are you bleeding?”

“Angel?” You closed your eyes and tried to resist arguing. Stay on the ground. The ground was safe. The ground was stable and not spinning. Spinning equals bad. “Wait. What?” Using your hand, you searched your head and - fuck, yep. That was blood, just near your hairline. You could hear a crunch of glass underneath your back too.

The man twisted his head, looking back towards the shattered window and door of the restaurant behind him. The familiar sound of police sirens called out in the distance. “Sam, we’ve gotta get her checked out-”

You hissed out in pain when you tried to sit up again. Stay on the ground. ��No, please. I’m fine. Just give me a minute..”

The other man shouted back. “Listen, I’ll deal with the blue. Hopefully Ward isn’t on duty today. Call Katy, she should be nearby.”

“Hey! Hey. Wait. Please.” You grasped Blue Suit’s hand as he turned back to you. “The co-pay on my insurance is terrible, I- I can’t afford a hospital bill and-”

“You don’t have to worry about a hospital bill, I promise.”

You turned your head when you caught the crack in his voice, the sincerity in his tone. A multitude of questions and arguments raced through your mind but when you met his eyes and absorbed his soft gaze, you faltered.

“It’s the least I can do, angel. You saved my life.”

---

You had to chalk it up to the rush of adrenaline - how it just made sense to go with this man and get into a car and trust he was really going to get you medical attention. It wasn’t until you were actually arriving at a little clinic further into Brooklyn that you were hit with the gravity of the whole situation.

That and the pain that was radiating through your skull hit you in full force.

Speaking of full force, why did you throw yourself into this situation? RIght, because that car was going to barrel into the man. And if you could help prevent that… Though it was just occurring to you that you could have been hit by that car too. You both could be dead and -

“Hey, come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Blue Suit had managed to vacate the front seat and open your door in the back in seconds. You quietly said your goodbyes to the sassy dark haired woman who had driven you both and reluctantly grabbed his hand as you stepped out of the car. Slowly he helped guide you into the quiet little building, home to the Roosevelt Clinic.

Under normal circumstances, you might be annoyed by how Blue Suit was resting his hand against your back, carefully walking you past the front desk, giving a quick nod to the woman who sat there. She had motioned him down the hall towards a certain room and when you got to the door, he paused.

“Listen, Sarah is the best nurse here and she’ll take a look at that cut and make sure you’re okay.” He peered down at you with the most sincere look, finally moving his hand from where it was splayed against your spine and dragging his fingers across his beard. He seemed more shaken now, a bit less secure in his words. “I don’t know how to say thank you for..”

You offered him a tight smile as he trailed off. “Don’t worry about it, that’s not..” You were lost for words too, nodding and stepping into the small medical room. Not before watching him speak quietly to himself as he walked away, tugging his phone from his pocket.

Inside the room you sat on one of the chairs, reaching up again to analyze the cut on your forehead. The bleeding had stopped, at least. You barely had any extra time to think about it before someone else came into the room.

You could only assume this was the nurse, Sarah. You weren’t sure what to expect, but the woman standing in front of you put you at ease. Her graying sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun and she offered you a small smile, grabbing a pen from the pocket of her scrub pants as she took a few steps in towards you.

“I’m Sarah, I’m a nurse practitioner at this clinic,” she said as she dropped into the rolling stool beside you, showing you her identifying badge before tilting her head as she studied your face. Her eyes landed on the cut. “Can you tell me your name, honey?”

You nodded and gave her all your information as required and moved your hand as she inspected your cut.

“Oh,” Sarah let out a small whistle. “How did this happen?”

“I, uh,” you took a deep breath and released it. “That guy who brought me in here. I don’t even know his name.” You laughed, though it was short lived as Sarah started to brush a small wipe across your forehead to clean it up. You hissed in pain.

“Steve?” She asked. “In the suit?”

“Blue Suit, yeah. Steve.” You bit your lip as she moved along. “I kind of tackled him to the ground because a car was veering off the street in his direction. Hit my head on the way down.”

Sarah paused her hands and pulled back, moving her stool slightly to the side to get a better look at you. “You tackled him?”

“I mean,” you laughed again. “I’m not strong but clearly if I have enough momentum and, you know, mass - it can cause some movement. It was sort of like a full force hug, I guess. But it meant he didn’t get squashed in front of that car…”

Sarah laughed stiffly too, shaking her head. She stood and crossed the room, opening up a cabinet. “Are you okay if I use some temporary sutures on that?”

You nodded again. “Sure.”

“Steve,” Sarah pursed her lips as she said his name. “He brings a lot of his friends here. I’m happy to patch anyone up for him, really. But this is a first. Usually he doesn’t bring me any strangers.”

You frowned. “Oh. I’m sorry if we got in the way of any real patients or..”

Sarah stopped you with a hand, grabbing her supplies and returning to the stool. “No, no. You didn’t get in the way, honey. This is good. I’m glad he brought you in.” Her smile was unusually joyous, grateful even, and you couldn’t figure out why. “And thank you for doing that, saving him.”

“No one needs to thank me,” you replied, “Seriously. I just… well, what else was I supposed to do but try to help?”

Once Sarah had taken care of the cut and gone through any possible concussion symptoms with you, she offered you some mild pain medication then stood again.

“Did you go to Briar College?” You asked when she stepped away. “I just noticed that lanyard you’re using..”

Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out the badge again, running her fingers over the bright blue lanyard. “I did. I’m a proud alumni of that little place.”

“I didn’t mean to be invasive,” you apologized. “My mom went there too. She did her nursing degree part time when I was in high school.”

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “What year did she graduate? I did the same thing when my son was a bit older, actually.”

You shared a few more details and, well, wasn’t the world small. It turned out Sarah was in the same class as your mom, although they hadn’t really stayed in touch beyond their classes. They had shared some experiences in a few group projects though, bonding over being the older women in the classroom.

You and Sarah were really chatting like old friends when there was a knock on the door frame.

“How’s it going in here?” Steve reappeared in the doorway, dragging a hand across the bottom of his jaw as he watched you and Sarah. He looked much more collected than he had before, perhaps having taken the time to sit with whatever he couldn’t say earlier. And god, even under the fluorescent lights above him, he looked good.

There hadn’t been time before to really take the man in, but as he took up most of the doorway, you couldn’t help but scan him. From his well kept beard, down his wide chest hidden behind the vest of his suit - what kind of man wore a three piece linen suit? And was that a gold chain and tattoos hiding on his chest, too?

You sucked in a breath but let Sarah answer for you.

“I think we’re all done.” Sarah stood up, turning away from you a playful smile on her face before moving towards Steve. When she pulled him into a hug, your mouth twisted into a confused frown. Then you thought about their matching blue eyes and…

“I’m okay, ma,” Steve muttered out, placing a kiss on the top of his mother’s head before he pulled away. “She saved my life.” His eyes flicked to you and suddenly you felt guilty about watching the personal moment that had been playing out.

You weren’t sure how to react to that. “Seriously, it’s not…” Maybe you were better off not arguing about it now, as you realized what a worst case scenario might have been. If this Steve guy needed to have a soft moment with his mother, that was fine.

I’m okay, ma..

It was a bit odd, in a way, that Steve’s busy, working mother dropped whatever she was doing to help whomever he brought in. And for you to be the first stranger he had guided through the doors, you couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of friends this guy kept if they ended up needing medical care so frequently that there was a room always ready for them at the clinic.

Clearly you had been consumed by your string of thoughts enough to not even realize Sarah left the room because when you blinked again, Steve had taken a few steps in.

“Are you feeling okay?” Steve started, thankfully. You had no clue what to say or do now, given that you were somewhere in the heart of Brooklyn with a minor head injury. Life saved, head stitched, exchanging awkward platitudes might have been next…

You nodded. “Yeah, pretty good, considering.” You pointed to your forehead and laughed. “Sarah was very helpful.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh. “You know, I’ve almost died before. A couple times. I was sick all the time when I was a kid, bad lungs..” He tapped against his chest with his hand. “I got a really bad infection and it was touch and go for a few weeks when I was in fifth grade. I also survived a lot of bad fist fights, a bullet to my hip and-”

Your eyes grew wide. “A bullet?”

“I served overseas after college,” he brushed it off. “I’m here on the other side of it. But for the last hour, all I can think about is that my time might have come to a quick end today if it hadn’t been for you, angel.”

“Please don’t call me that,” you shook your head. You insisted he call you by your first name instead. And after you gave it to him, he repeated it to himself, as if he was committing it to memory.

“Steve, I was just right where I needed to be, I guess. It doesn’t have to be that…complicated.” You were really trying to relieve this man of his guilt. “Anyone else in the same position would have done the same thing, I’m sure.” You could tell he wanted to say more but after letting out a long breath, he must have changed his mind. “Plus, you saved us both, really. When that car zoomed past us again and-”

“And I rolled you through the debris and glass. Sure. But I just feel like I owe you,” Steve sighed, raising his hand to drag across his neck. “I’m in debt to you forever.”

“Could you just cover my taxi fare for a ride home?” You reached for your phone to check the time. Shit. “Hercules is gonna be so pissed.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment. “Your boyfriend’s name is Hercules?”

“What?” You blinked a few times, shaking your head as you finally stood up. “No, Hercules is my dog. What kind of person would be named Hercules in this day and age?”

“Listen, my best friend goes by Bucky. Anything is possible.”

“I usually take Hercules for a walk right after I’m done with work, he’s been cooped up all day.” You couldn’t hide your frown as you thought about the journey home. “Maybe the subway would be quicker-”

“Let me give you a ride, please.” Your name left his lips as he pleaded. “It’s the least I can do.”

You supposed it would be the quickest way back to your neighbourhood. And given you had already gotten a ride with the man and had just met his mother and you knew where she worked so…

As you headed back out to the front of the clinic, you were surprised to see a police officer standing there. Steve took a few extra strides to get ahead of you, greeting the officer first.

“Hammond, it’s been a while,” he started, extending his hand out to shake that of the policeman.

“Has it?” The officer shot back, a small grin appearing on his hard lined face. “What have I told you about leaving the scene of a crime, Rogers?”

Steve scoffed, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms over his chest. “We have different answers for what makes a crime scene.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“She was bleeding, I couldn’t wait around.” Steve gestured to you now.

You gave a small wave to the officer, feeling a bit unsettled about what the heck was unfolding ahead of you. “Uh, hello.”

After he introduced himself to you as Officer Hammond, he took out a small notepad and gave you that same small smile. You assumed it was supposed to be comforting but it came off a bit stiff. “I just need a statement. You saw what happened? Did you see the driver’s face?”

In the middle of giving your recount to the officer, alongside all your contact information, you froze. “Oh my god. Would it help.. Would it help if I had a picture of the SUV?” You shook your head and reached for your phone, quickly scrolling through your recent pictures. Then you hesitated, given how unflattering your face looked when you had taken that earlier selfie to send to Maria. But, you could see the car as it approached behind you in the photo and maybe they could do something with that. Police departments must have fancy technology that could decipher a bit of information from it.

You turned your phone to show the officer. “It is a selfie, unfortunately, but..”

Hammond just nodded. “Yeah, that could help. Can you email it to me?”

Steve had a really nice car. A car nicer than anything you had ever sat in before. And despite the overwhelming day-to-day insecurity you held about your body, it didn’t feel like you were squeezing yourself into the vehicle. Inside, the leather seats looked immaculate. Steve weaved through traffic with ease, exchanging very boring normal small talk as neither of you seemed to be able to connect your true thoughts after everything that had happened. But dammit, if he didn’t look attractive with one hand on the wheel, as his other worked the gear shift. Had that sort of thing always been sexy or was it a Steve thing?

Because until an hour ago, you didn’t think anyone could pull off a blue linen suit and now…

Maybe you had hit your head harder than you thought.

By some miracle, the parking spot in front of the townhouse, home to your basement apartment, was free so Steve effortlessly parallel parked his car into place. Was that sexy too? You made a mental note to check with Maria if you were insane. Maybe you had brain damage after all.

“Well, there we go. One ride home. We’re even, Steven.” You laughed at your own joke, feeling a tiny bit proud when you saw a smirk rise on his face.

He said your name as he shifted in his seat. “Listen, I’m not going to say thank you again. Or call you Angel.”

You smiled. “Appreciate it.”

“But I believe in the universe putting people in the right place at the right time and..” He closed his eyes and took in a breath. “I’m truly in your debt forever.” He reached into one of the front consoles of the vehicle and grabbed a small card. After retrieving a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, he scrawled onto the back of it.

“I owe you a thousand favours, alright?” He handed you the card. You stared at his handwritten phone number. “Call me to cash them in, anytime.”

You reluctantly took the card, knowing there was no point in arguing. Besides, this was a gesture. If he needed to hand you off with this promise, you’d play along and accept it. “Sure.”

“That photo you shared with Hammond - do you think you could send it to me, too?”

You frowned, struck between confusion and, well, embarrassment. You hadn’t taken that selfie with the intention of anyone other than Maria seeing it. Sharing it with the police officer made sense but sending it to this Very Handsome Man felt really awkward. Wasn’t it police evidence now?

“Uh, yeah. I could do that.” You sighed, glancing at his email address on the card then twisting in the seat slightly to look at him. “Just don’t laugh, okay? It was not meant to be shared with the world.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, An-” He stopped himself, letting out a short breath before saying your name. “Thanks. Stay safe, okay? And like I said, a thousand favours. If you need anything, anytime - you reach out.”

Chapter 02

What's next? well, you can look forward to flirting, romance, danger, protective Steve Rogers, some smut, some drama and moreeeeeee.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #simmerandcry #simmerandwrite #mob boss steve rogers #protective steve rogers

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theharrowing · 2 years

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Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 1: It’s euphoric. You gotta try it.

You get way too high and finally have sex with your brother's best friend—and your sworn enemy—Min Yoongi.

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🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 3.4k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother's best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: use of marijuana; dubious consent at first (mc is very high and says no and Yoongi is pushy); groping; being too rough; spitting; teasing; cunnilingus; Yoongi calling mc easy; unprotected sex on a bedroom floor; multiple orgasms; post-nut regret.

🍃 you hate him, and yet...lol. oneshot requested by @blog-name-idk: “Mint Yoongi dubcon where he sort of coerces/seduces an initially reluctant reader? Maybe he's like a runner or something and MC is reluctant to get involved until she gets a taste of his poison. And not the drugs. Eyebrow waggle." thank you for your patience, dear mango!

🍃 note: i am currently not accepting new requests.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🍃 posted oct. 2022 | read on ao3

Your eyelids feel heavy, and the air around you feels like too much—thick and sticky but too thin to fill your lungs—and there's an unfamiliar haze to it that makes you wonder if you're even awake at all.

If it weren't for Min Yoongi—the devil with mint hair—gazing at you like an amused child holding an ant hostage beneath a magnifying glass in the scorching sun, you would think that for sure you were in dreamland.

But Yoongi is no dream. Yoongi is a nightmare.

A beautiful, cunning nightmare, but a nightmare no less. With his crooked smirk and his feline eyes, Yoongi can spin shit into gold and make anyone bend to his will, and you had done a valiant job of holding out for years, feigning annoyance and giving him nothing to work with. That is, until he turned up on your doorstep at ten in the morning, claiming to be looking for your brother, with a gift.

"No sweat," he had muttered with a shrug when you mentioned your brother was out of town until the evening. "I'll let you have it instead."

Whatever it is that your dumbass brother's dumbass drug dealer best friend had to offer, you were certain you wanted nothing to do with it. Unless it was weed; Yoongi always had the best weed.

"Have what?" you asked against your better judgment.

The smug grin that tugged on Yoongi's lips sent a knowing chill down your spine, settling heavily in your guts as he lifted his hand, holding up a perfectly rolled joint. "This new strain I got. It's euphoric. You gotta try it."

And that is how you ended up here: sitting on your bedroom floor wearing an oversized white tee and short grey pajama shorts, with your brother's closest friend—and your sworn enemy—Min Yoongi.

"How do you like it?" Yoongi asks.

The fog in the room feels even thicker, and you are so spaced and so painfully fucking high that you have no idea what Yoongi is asking you, but—despite how slow your brain is moving—you consider a myriad of things he could be asking, and none of them are good.

"Huh?" is all you can manage to say in response.

Yoongi chuckles and shifts, and you glance up to find him on his hands and knees, leaning into your personal space. He wears a black bomber jacket that has a bunch of pins on it, and you wonder what they are for just a split moment before you decide it's probably best that Yoongi does not catch you looking at him curiously.

"Undressing me with your eyes?" Yoongi rasps, deep and saccharine—thorns coated in honey.

You knit your eyebrows and attempt to shake your head at his absolute stupidity. "I—what?"

"It's alright," Yoongi responds, and you meet his eyes to find them dark and glimmering with mischief. "I can take this off for you. It's warm in here, anyway."

Yoongi sits high on his knees and slides his jacket off his shoulders, and although you want to tell him no—that you are not undressing him with your eyes, that you have no intention of encouraging him to remove any of his clothing—you can't get your mouth to move.

The haze thickens as Yoongi gets back on his hands and leans in too close again. He wears an off-white rolling stones band tee—the one with the big, obnoxious bright red mouth, right in the middle of his chest. It hangs loose as he bends forward—shows a hint of clavicle—and you swallow a lump in your throat and let your gaze fall foolishly to one of his hands—big and rough and too close for comfort.

You open your mouth with the intention of asking Yoongi what he’s doing, but your lips falter around nothing. Your mouth is terribly dry, and Yoongi's heady scent of bergamot and musk threatens to suffocate you.

Yoongi smirks. "I asked you how you like it."

You blink your heavy, tired eyes and attempt to back up and put more space between the two of you, but you bump into the foot of your bed and gasp.

"L-like what?" you finally ask, looking back at Yoongi with a gaze that feigns indifference.

Yoongi crawls forward and crowds your space entirely, and although you have the urge to pull your knees to your chest and guard your body, your legs slide down, between Yoongi's arms and legs, giving him full access to you.

"The weed." Yoongi cocks an eyebrow and continues to crawl, caging you in. "What did you think I meant?"

"I like it," you mutter, ignoring his question. "but it's too strong."

Yoongi hums, and his tongue flicks out, gently moistening his lips. You watch the movement—at the hint of pink that appears and disappears—and draw a shaky breath when Yoongi smiles widely and nibbles on his lip.

"Don't you feel so loose and relaxed?" Yoongi asks.

Warm breath ghosts over your mouth, and you struggle to find the words to answer. "Uh—I—"

"You're not pushing me away like you always do," Yoongi interrupts. "Are you finally gonna cave in and let me have what I want?"

You shake your head and turn your face to the side. You cannot hold your composure by looking at his mouth or feeling the warmth that passes from his lips to yours, so you make a feeble attempt to convince yourself that you do not want to kiss Min Yoongi.

"No," you whisper.

Yoongi hums and leans forward, nuzzling his nose against your neck. Your breath hitches, and you let your eyes fall closed, and although you want to tell Yoongi to back off and stop touching you, the words never leave your lips.

"Then push me away," Yoongi groans, pressing his lips against your skin.

Push him away, you tell yourself, but your arms feel heavy and useless, and your heart pounds in your chest at a dizzying pace. Every little movement Yoongi makes feels good, and it terrifies you.

"I don't want this," you mutter, but Yoongi nips at your skin, and you whimper softly, betraying yourself.

"Moaning while you tell me no isn't exactly convincing," Yoongi chides as his lips travel to your throat.

Your head falls back against your mattress, and you sigh out a deep breath as Yoongi takes advantage of all the skin you have to offer—lips, tongue, and teeth marking and flicking and nibbling.

"I see the way you look at me," Yoongi challenges.

You chuckle weakly as you admit, "Yeah, you're fucking hot, okay. But you're my brother's best friend. And you're an asshole."

"Hmm, True on all counts," Yoongi mutters as his lips leave your skin, and he sits high on his knees, towering over you.

You hate the hold Yoongi has on you in this moment—hate how strikingly handsome he is, how good he smells, how your skin tingles under his touch. You want him. You have always wanted him. And his teasing remarks and sly glances over the years have only served to make you absolutely despise him.

"Fine," you concede, against your better judgment, feeling tingly and hazy and eager for more of his mouth. Yoongi lets out a hum that poses as a question, and you sigh out a deep breath—giving in. "Fuck me before I change my mind."

Yoongi's hands are on you, groping and squeezing your breasts before you have a chance to react, and you open your mouth to protest his eagerness—to tell him to go slow—but Yoongi captures your lips with his, swallowing the sound whole. He nibbles and sucks on your lip, causing you to gasp, and as your mouth falls agape and pliant, he rolls his tongue over yours—tasting of stale weed and something slightly sweet—pulling more sounds of pleasure from your throat.

"Yoongi," you finally mutter with your mouth full of tongue, "slow down."

But Yoongi does not slow down. He tugs at your shirt and pulls it over your head—releasing the kiss for only the allotted second or so that it takes to remove the garment—then kneads your bare breasts with both palms, engulfing your soft, tender flesh in warmth.

Your body feels electric with want and desire, and you lift your arms sluggishly—only enough to set your hands on Yoongi's thighs and slowly rub over coarse denim. Yoongi groans into your mouth, forcing you to sink further into pleasure from the sound, and you gasp for breath and arch your back as his lips trail down to your jaw and back to your throat in soft but desperate gnashes of lips and teeth.

"Lay down," Yoongi commands.

"On the floor?"

A chuckle against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you begin to slide down, finding it difficult to comply even with gravity in your current state. Yoongi sits back, high on his knees, and yanks you by the hips, pulling you hard onto your elbows with a surprised gasp. You hit your head against your bed as you attempt to settle onto your back, and you feel cramped and uncomfortable but struggle to inch your limbs any further.

Yoongi gets onto his feet quickly, pulling off his shirt and pushing his jeans and briefs down. You lift your hands with the intent of pushing your pajama shorts down, but the sight of Yoongi's long, hard cock springing from the confines of tight, restrictive fabric halts all physical and mental activity, and your hands still in the air.

"It's rude to stare," Yoongi teases as he bends and tugs at your shorts, yanking them hard enough that you barely shift your body to help him remove the garment, leaving you sprawled out on your bedroom floor, naked.

"Fuck," Yoongi rasps as he tosses the shorts aside and gets back on his knees. He gropes your thighs and roughly spreads them, forcing you to gasp and tremble in his hold.

"No panties?" Yoongi teases as he sinks to his elbows. "How fucking naughty."

You consider telling Yoongi that he showed up while you were still in your pajamas—that you're not even sure it's fucking noon yet—but he probably doesn't actually want an explanation for your state of undress. All coherent thought is rendered useless, anyway, as his mouth quickly finds your clit, sending any explanation you may have given out as a strangled gasp.

Loud, desperate moans escape you as Yoongi's tongue laps greedily over your cunt, and you relax into the feeling, finally at an angle that is as comfortable as possible on your rough, carpeted floor. Yoongi grips your thighs and holds you spread for him, sending a flood of arousal and pleasure through you that threatens to drown you far too fast. Whatever is in this weed is euphoric, and you fear you might come undone immediately.

"F-fuck," you whimper as Yoongi snakes one hand between your thighs and plunges two long, thick fingers into you, stretching you painfully around them. Yoongi finger fucks you hard—punches moans and gasps from your chest and throat—and you claw at the carpet below you as pleasure rips your soul straight from your body, causing you to disintegrate into a pile of shaky limbs.

You hardly recognize your voice—pitchy and broken as you sob and cry through your orgasm. And Yoongi gives you no time to recover, punishing you with his fingers and tongue as your high crashes and immediately begins to build, leaving you a trembling, overstimulated shell of a human.

"One more," Yoongi commands, and you shake your head, whimper loose vowels and consonants that are meant to be words of assent and writhe helplessly, sprawled and sweaty on the floor.

Time and space slip through your fingers—tears threaten to escape your eyes, which you squeeze shut, seeing only stars. Sharp, soundless breaths heave from your mouth, and Yoongi brings you higher and higher, only for you to plunge into unforgiving bliss once more.

Yoongi's hands and mouth finally slow, and you tremble and shiver from the weight of everything that has just happened as the cool air settles over your warm skin.

"Easy," Yoongi chides against your thigh, nipping at your skin until you squirm. "So fucking easy. Do you cum that fast for everyone?"

Yoongi's teasing is annoying, and you attempt to kick him away, but you're high and fucked out, and he holds your bend knee firmly—doesn't let you move.

No, you think, only this time. Only for you. But you won't give him the satisfaction, instead gritting, "Shut the fuck up," through clenched teeth.

"All this time, my boy's little sister is an easy fuck, cuming in two seconds flat. Can’t believe I got you all spread out on your bedroom floor."

You stare at the off-white ceiling, letting your eyes unfocus in the haze that continues to cloud your vision. God, you hate him. "Shut the fuck up, Yoongi."

Yoongi crawls up your body, caging your head between his arms, and you have no choice but to look at him—mint hair hanging into your face and his chin glistening with your release. He smirks and spits onto your mouth, and you frown, ready to shout at him for being an asshole, but his cock prods at your thigh, leaving a streak of precum on your warm skin, and you groan at the thought of how full he's going to make you, forgetting his transgression in an instant.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, your brother is gonna ask why you have a limp."

"Stop mentioning my brother," you grumble weakly, turning your head to stare at the wall.

Yoongi grabs onto your jaw and forces you to look at him, sending arousal coursing through your veins, turning your blood to syrup. "Good thing he's not back till later. I have so much time to fuck you into submission. Gonna make you forget your own name."

You scoff at Yoongi's arrogance and roll your eyes. "Do it, then," you challenge.

The press of Yoongi's cock head against your cunt makes you gasp. Yoongi reaches between his thighs and rubs himself slowly over your pussy, up to your clit and back down, then lines himself with your hole and slowly presses in.

You whine and hiss at the stretch that is agonizingly slow, yet steady, burning painfully and feeling incredible. Yoongi doesn't rock his hips, just presses in, in, in until finally, you are so full of cock, all you can do is gasp for air.

"You are tight, baby," Yoongi groans as he settles onto his knees and sits up, rubbing his hands up and down your sides before gripping onto your hips.

You hate the sound of baby coming from his mouth, and you cringe. "Don't call me that."

Yoongi smirks and pulls his hips back, dragging his cock so slowly it makes you whine. He licks his lips and raises an eyebrow. "I'll call you anything I want, baby."

"Shut the fuck up," you whimper lazily with a frown.

"What was that?"

"Shut the f—ah—" you moan, interrupted by a deep thrust of Yoongi's hips.

Your hands grip uselessly at the carpet as Yoongi pulls back and plunges forward, overwhelming you with pleasure and the sudden desire to be fucked until you're just as brainless as he promises.

Yoongi leans forward and sets a steady pace, holding your thighs spread. His cock feels so good you almost don't notice the drag of your back and shoulders across the carpet, threatening to rub your skin raw. And you almost complain and suggest moving to the bed, but Yoongi shifts his arm and rubs the pad of his thumb over your clit, sending pleasure to burst and bloom and turn you once more into a pliant, sobbing mess.

This time, when you cum—fucked hard and fast—it's so intense that your back arches from the floor, and you splay your fingers and toes, limbs suspended in the air while choked sobs fall from your mouth.

"So easy," Yoongi teases again, and maybe it would be humiliating, but the blend of the high and the pleasure is so great, you decide that you like being this easy—you like how hard and fast you can cum for him. Only for him.

Yoongi pulls out and shoves your legs to one side, forcing your body to twist, and you comply with his unspoken request and manage to get onto your elbows and knees, slowly and unsteadily.

"Fuck, the carpet got you," Yoongi complains as his hands rub over your back and settle on your ass, spreading you wide. And you're almost foolish enough to think that Yoongi cares about your comfort until he spits, sending a glob of cold saliva hurling against your asshole.

"You're fucking disgusting," you grumble as the spit trickles down, caught by Yoongi's cock head before he presses back into your eager cunt. You are reminded that you absolutely fucking hate him, and you do your best to hold onto one tiny thread of sensibility—a single inkling of annoyance. But Yoongi chuckles deep and melodic, and he begins to fuck you, forcing your shoulders to slump forward from bliss as your cheek presses into the back of your hand.

The pace Yoongi sets is dizzying. You have to curl in on yourself slightly, angled just enough to prevent your head from slamming into your bed, and although your knees begin to burn, you don't care. Yoongi fucks you so good that in this moment, nothing matters but the feeling of his thick cock spearing you so deep it intoxicates you just as much as the joint had.

This time, when you cum, the feeling envelopes you like a warm hug, spreading from limb to limb like wildfire. Your body slumps even further, legs tremble, and your cries die down, drowned out by the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the squelch of your overused pussy.

Yoongi moans and mutters profanities and loose vowels as his hips stutter, then he pulls out and sprays his cum on your ass—an unceremonious end to a regrettable situation. You chuckle dryly to yourself and bury your face in your hands as post-nut clarity sinks its claws into you, and you come to terms with the fact that you just let this idiot fuck you, and that it felt amazing.

"Let me catch my breath and we can go for round two," Yoongi grumbles through heaving breaths.

You manage to crawl onto your knees and glance around your room for something to wipe your buttcheeks off with. "There will be no round two. Ever."

Yoongi laughs and walks to the side of your bed, where you keep a box of tissues, and you hear him pull three out before he returns to your side. You reach out a hand to accept them, but he takes the liberty of wiping you off, instead. It feels embarrassing to have your buttcheeks wiped, especially by him, and you plop onto your side the second he's done and sit up, drawing your knees up to guard yourself.

"Get dressed and go home," you say, catching Yoongi's eye as he glances from his task of wiping off his cock.

"Even after the best fuck of your life, you are such a fucking brat."

"Seriously, Min, go home."

Yoongi scoffs and tosses his used, balled-up tissue at you, which you swat at and cringe. What an asshole.

"Gonna turn your brother down more often when he invites me to tag along for his trips. Fucking you is way more fun."

The high has all but dissipated, and you feel anger build in your gut because of course he already knew, when he came over this morning, that you would be alone.

"I fucking hate you," you grumble as you glare so hard, you hope the gaze will pierce through him like a laser and fry him to smitherines.

Yoongi laughs to himself as he gets dressed, hopping into his jeans and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. "Hate me all you want, but I fucked you better than anyone else has."

He is absolutely right, and you hate that too.

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#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi hate sex #yoongi brother's best friend #yoongi scenarios #bts smut #fic: devil with the mint hair

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cult-of-husbandos · 29 days

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toji fushiguro [☯︎] - Himo Romance

synopsis: toji fushiguro takes you on a romantic date to the most fanciest place on earth.

genre: hella crack, angst(?), fluff(?)

word count: 4.9k

warnings: cursing, if you care

The scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of the setting sun as you waited in your small Tokyo apartment. It was a modest space, cluttered with polaroid pics and random shit from either thrift stores or shady internet dealers. Why spend $90 on an air fryer when NutCrusher2378 will sell you one for the low, low price of one feet pic?

Inhale. Exhale.

You once read an article that stated that meditation can decrease stress, pressure, and homicidal tendencies within a person. You glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time, your patience waning as the minutes ticked by. Clearly, fifteen Blood Dragon Mango Orange and sitting in silence for 30 minutes wasn’t doing much for the overbearing burden that is your life. Now, why would a well-balanced person with their own apartment, car, and a source of income need to destress. Despite what your parents tell you every text, call, and holiday you were actually doing very good for yourself. So, why do you have the urge to burn down your apartment building and start smashing every building within a 25 mile radius?

One man.

One incredulous hot as fuck piece of shit man.

Toji Fushiguro, the enigmatic man who had become an unpredictable fixture in your life. You are currently dating a sorcerer that can’t even afford getting a Twix from a vending machine. To be honest, you wouldn’t even really call what you two have a ‘relationship’. Your so-called relationship was nothing more than a precarious balance of convenience, a twisted dance of give and take where you supplied the resources and he… well, he took. The more appropriate name for this would be a ‘situationship’. You cringe any time you or your friends bring up your relationship with him. Like a gross, oozing pimple on prom night, you just want to cover it up and pretend it doesn’t exist. Except the gross, oozing pimple is a 6’1, 190 lbs., lazy, overconfident, sex machine that kills and bums money from everyone just to bet it on a horse named ‘Lucky McCock’ because “with a name like that, he fucks the competition”.

The sound of keys jingling outside your door broke the concentrated silence, and you inadvertently flinched and felt your heart sink as Toji’s unmistakable footsteps echoed through the hallway. Without so much as a warning, he barged into your apartment, his devil-may-care grin lighting up his face. Why in the name of Kwon Ji-yong did you ever think giving him a key would be a good idea?!

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he greeted casually, tossing his dirty musty jacket that you bought for him onto the couch. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, the familiar blend of annoyance and resignation settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog. “You were only gone for three weeks this time. Hardly long enough to miss you.”

Toji shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze wandering around the room before landing on the half-empty bag of potato chips on your coffee table. “Hungry,” he declared, making a beeline for the kitchen without waiting for your response.

You sighed inwardly, resigning yourself to yet another evening of Toji’s impromptu visits. As he raided your fridge with the same energy as an ungrateful college student that drops off his laundry and eats your food, you couldn’t help but wonder why you continued to tolerate his antics. Perhaps it’s his gorgeous face that even when nothing but bullshit and snarky remarks come out of it makes you want to sit on it. Or it’s his amazing daddy body that can go round after round with you, but can’t be bothered to move two feet to pick up the remote. Or maybe you have an undiscovered broke as fuck boyfriend kink that makes you dummy stupid.

“Why does it smell like a bunch of temple bastards took a shit in your living room?”

Or maybe, just maybe, you died long ago and this is your eternal hell.

*****

The weeks passed in a blur of half-hearted promises and fleeting moments of intimacy. Toji’s presence in your life remained as unpredictable as ever, his disappearances becoming a twisted routine that you had grown all too accustomed to.

‘Are we even dating?’

A thought suddenly popped into your head. You felt as if your stomach had hit the brakes hard after going over 90 on the interstate. What was really the point of this relationship? Well, it’s not like you both don’t get anything out of it. You both get amazing, mind-blowing sex and he gets a place to crash, food to eat, and money to spend on whatever dumb shit he likes.

…

You know, after laying it down like that, there’s obviously a clear winner that benefits from this in the long run.

However, just when you thought you had reached your breaking point, Toji dropped a bombshell that caught you completely off guard.

“I’m taking you out,” he announced one evening, his expression unusually earnest as he met your gaze. “A fancy date, with all that romantic shit you always bitch about.”

You quirked your eyebrow skeptically, crossing your arms over your chest. “The words ‘fancy’ and ‘romantic’ don’t fit your vocabulary. Your idea of fancy is wearing a button up shirt and your idea of romance is wearing a condom and buying flavored lube.” You sighed as he laughed obnoxiously. “What fancy place do you even know? Aren’t you, like, banned from almost every restaurant, café, dive bar, and soup kitchen within 50 miles of here?”

Toji grinned mischievously, a spark of excitement hinting in his eyes. “It’s a surprise,” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk. “But trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

You honestly doubt that. You know better than to get your hopes high when it comes to Toji’s promises. He either doesn’t deliver or doesn’t show up. Either way, you end up looking like a dumb bitch at the end of the day in your friend’s group chat. Yet, for some unknown reason, you found yourself getting excited.

*****

“Why do I have to be blindfolded for this?” you groaned as Toji guided you throughout the crowded sidewalk. The city buzzed with life around you, its neon lights casting an otherworldly glow as you navigate your way through the labyrinth of alleyways and side streets. You felt the slight breeze of people walking past you and felt the questioning gazes burn into you.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if you could see where we were going, would it?” he whispered into your ear. “We’re almost there anyway…”

You felt anxiety and interest build in the pit of your stomach, your curiosity piqued as you drew closer to your destination. What sort of extravagant affair had Toji planned for you that you need a blindfold to go there? An underground Michelin-starred restaurant? A moonlit stroll along the riverbanks? An eyes-wide shut party?

As Toji finally came to a stop, you felt your stomach drop and heart race as he reached up to remove the blindfold from your eyes, his lips curling into a triumphant grin.

“Voila!” he exclaimed, gesturing grandly at the dimly lit building in front of you.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took in the scene before you. You both stood outside a familiar chain restaurant, its red gaudy mascot sign illuminated in garishly bright white letters against the night sky.

Red Lobster.

You blinked in confusion, struggling to process the sheer absurdity of what was happening.

“Red… Lobster?” you echoed incredulously, your voice laced with disbelief.

Toji shrugged nonchalantly, his grin widening into a boyish smirk. “Told ya it was fancy as shit.”

…

“WHAAAAAAAAATTT?!!!”

*****

Words could not describe the unbridled rage you were feeling right now. You could power a small village for 5 years with the amount of fury emanating from you. You sat slumped in the booth with a furious scowl stuck on your face as you stared fiercely at the lying moron currently stuffing his face with Cheddar Bay Biscuits. After gulping down three of the biscuits, he finally looks up at you.

“‘s matter with you?”

“You know damn well what’s the matter with me, Toji.” you seethed.

A few seconds of silence passed as he gulped down the rest of the biscuits. His face remained stoic as he looked you in the eyes.

“You gotta take a shit or somethin’?”

You slammed your fists against the table, sitting up straight and leaning over the table, the jarring sound of the utensils and cups on the table shook people from their conversations and turned their attention towards your table. You could care less what those slack jawed NPCs thought of you. Your attention was focused solely on your smug ass boyfriend.

“Toji,” you breathed harshly, “what the fuck am I wearing right now?”

“Huuh?”

“What the fuck do I have on right now? What kind of clothes do I have on?” You were shaking at this point.

Toji grinned at you smugly. “Whatever it is, it’s hot as fuck.”

“Of course it’s hot as fuck, Toji. And you wanna know why I’m wearing this hot as fuck outfit in this building of impending salmonella poisoning? Because you told me that we were going to a fancy and romantic place. Where people, oh I don’t know, don’t need to take a Pepto Bismol before and after dinner, where waiters speak in a posh accent but you know deep down that they only make 12 dollars an hour, where the food is served relatively fresh and not sitting in a deep-freeze for half year and warmed in a fucking microwave! But no! Here I am, looking like a 100 out of 10 sitting in a stained red booth, at a sticky table, sitting across from a man who looks like I just dragged a homeless man off the street just so I don’t look like a desperate loser coming into a fucking Red Lobster by myself!”

You ended your rant, panting and dropped back into your booth and cradled your head in your arms on the table. You knew this would happen. You just knew it! Leave it to a man with no concept of child support or how a garbage disposal works to take you anywhere relatively nice. The soft chattering and murmurs of the other patrons around you continued on, but you could feel eyes on you specifically. You groaned, not even bothering to raise your head.

“Jesus Christ… you couldn’t even pick a fucking Papadeux? Fucking Red Lobster…”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he quipped, his mouth full of Cheddar Bay Biscuits.

“I have tried it, Toji. Everyone and their great-grandmother comes to fucking Red Lobster at least once for a birthday-anniversary-graduation-bullshit.”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Toji, your “thought” doesn’t count for shit.”

You didn’t see it, but Toji flinched at your words. A pang of dejection flashed across his face, but just as you rose your head he turned his face back to stoic.

“Where’s the damn waiter?” he muttered, looking around. “AYO! Can we get some damn service?!” Toji loudly called, snapping his fingers.

Your eyes widened and you quickly grabbed his arm. “Oh my fucking… Toji!”

Before he could say anything, a nervous looking waiter walked up to your booth.

“Hello guys, my name is Tommy and I will be your waiter today. Can I get you guys started with anything?”

“Uh, yeah, lemme get a mufuckin’ uuuuhhhhhhhhh…” This went on for a full two minutes. “Lemme get the unlimited oysters.”

You quirked your eyebrow at Toji with a perplexed look as the waiter jotted down his order. “Really? The oysters?”

He lazily nodded.

“Are you sure you wanna lock that in, baby?”

He nodded again, looking disgruntled that you would question his choice of food.

“Like, 100%? Are you really, really sure that’s what you wanna get?”

Toji tilted his head at you. “You questioning me?”

You raised your eyebrows passively and opened your menu. “Alright…” you remark, “It’s your funeral…” You muttered the last part under your breath.

The waiter sensing the tension amongst you two, hurried along the order conversation. “And what would you like to drink?”

“All your drinks are boring, so nothing.” he answered in dismissal, tossing the menu at Tommy who barely managed to catch it.

“And what would you like to order?” He directed his attention towards you.

“I’ll have the grilled half lobster with lemon butter, a tomahawk steak, and a bottle of Gin, please.” you answered, handing the menu to him.

“A-A bottle…?” Tommy the waiter stuttered. “We can mix it into a drink if you preferred–”

“I said what I said.” You looked at the basket on the table. “And can we get some more cheddar biscuits please?”

Tommy nodded with a bow. “Of course. I’ll be back with your drinks and some more biscuits for the table.” And with that, he scurried off.

Toji threw you a smug grin and whistled cheekily. “Wooow, babe. I didn’t know I was dining with royalty.” he chastised and you groaned. “Don’t expect me to pay for your share.”

“Pssh. Please Toji. With what money? It’s so obvious that I’m paying for this meal.”

“Wait, really?”

“Duh, Toji! Of course I’m paying for it! It’s practically routine at this point.” You groan out, annoyed and rolling your eyes. “It’s the main thing you use me for anyway…”

The air is immediately coated in awkward tension between the two of you. It’s not like you said anything wrong. This is Toji Fushiguro you’re talking about. The man only wants three things out of life: sex, money, and to sail through life never paying for anything. You fiddled with your fingernails to fill the dead air when you heard Toji smack his lips at you.

“Can’t you go one fucking second without bitchin’ at me for something so worthless?” he muttered. “What the hell’s wrong Red Lobster? Red Lobster is the epitome of sophistication. The ambiance, the seafood… it's all about setting the mood, babe.”

“Sophistication?” You scoff and look your boyfriend dead in his eyes. “Toji… you eat at fucking Burger King.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with Burger King?!”

“Oh! Hmm! Let’s see! Lemme think! Ummm! Ummm! How about, fucking everything Toji!”

“Do NOT disrespect the King!” Toji's smile faltered slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

“The King is dead, Toji! Deeeaaad! He OD’d 25 years ago just like everyone else who eats at Burger King!” you shout, no longer caring about raising your voice. “People only eat Burger King because they have to! Never because they want to! Because if that were the case, then everyone would go to McDonald’s! Their food is leagues better!”

“Their Whoppers are a culinary masterpiece.” he seethed at you.

You snort. “Oh yes! You’re so right, Toji. Mm-mm! Yummy! Because nothing turns my appetite on more than a soggy burger and a 72% chance of food poisoning! Or you could just spend the extra dollar and get a Big Mac like the rest of society! And chicken nuggets with actual chicken!”

It was now Toji’s turn to scoff. “You just don’t understand the peak gourmet culinary complexities that is Burger King.”

“I would rather lick the inside of a Taco Bell bathroom toilet than eat a single chicken fry from Burger King. At least with the Taco Bell toilet there’d be remnants of edible food! It’s bottom tier, Toji. Where else in the world do you get “buffalo nuggets” for $3?! And why would you pay for that?! 10 piece chicken nuggets for $2?! What’re you, suicidal?!”

“It’s cheap and delicious!”

“It’s rat meat and smells like something threw up in a deep fryer and you fucking know it! It’s right there next to Arby’s.”

“Oh! So, now you’re dissing Arby’s?!”

“You bet your beautiful chiseled ass I’m dissing fucking Arby’s!”

“And what’s fucking wrong with Arby’s, huh?!”

“It’s rat food, Toji! It’s all rat food!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Have you ever been inside an Arby’s, Toji? Hmm? The people that eat there are either tasteless morons that think Jack in the Box is ‘too expensive’ or using the spot waiting for their Fentanyl dealer. It’s just like Burger King. You only go there because you have to, not because you want to.”

Toji leaned in, eyes dark. “You wouldn’t know good food if it came up to your doorstep with roses, wiped its feet off at the door, and fucked your throat.”

“Oh, is that right?!”

“Um! Excuse me…” a meek voice spoke up. You both whipped your heads to see your waiter trembling with a bottle of Gin and basket of cheddar biscuits in his hands. You both leaned back in your seats as he hurriedly placed drink and food on the table. “Your food will be here shortly…” Before he could dash off, you grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Hold on there, Tommy. Settle something for us, would’ja?”

“Oh, please don’t incorporate me in whatever this is–”

“Arby’s, Burger King, or McDonald’s? Which one would you eat?”

Tommy stood in silence for a few seconds before whispering a tiny scared “what?”

“The fuck you asking him for?!”

“Because unlike you, he has a job and doesn’t live off of gambling tickets and random women to buy his meals! Now Tommy, choose!”

“U-U-Ummm… well, considering I’ve gotten food poisoning from all three restaurants, I’d still choose McDonald’s any day…”

“What?!”

You smirk at Toji victoriously. “Thank you, Tommy. You just earned yourself a 80% tip.”

And with that, Tommy scurried off again.

“God! You can never just be fucking grateful for anything, huh?! You just have to whine and nag and complain about everything in that pissy little condensating tone of yours!”

“Tell me, Toji. What should I be grateful for? Hm? Sh-Should I be grateful that you put in the bare minimum for a date or that you even remember my name at all?”

“…”

“Should I be grateful that you even came back to me at all and not dead somewhere, shanked and killed in the street, like an overlooked hooker that the cops don’t give a shit about?”

Toji remained silent.

“You know what, Toji. You’re right. I should be grateful. I’ll be grateful knowing that when this dinner ends I can go back home and not have to deal with you for another 4 months. Maybe around that time you’ll find someone else to be a wallet for you.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, ending the conversation dead in the water. Again, you missed the pain in Toji’s eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows and slowly continued chewing. Not too long after, Tommy came back with your food. Staring down at the shiny, plastic-looking food before you, you grimace. The overpowering smell of the oysters churned your stomach and waned your appetite with each passing second. Pushing past your mixture of disgust and resignation, you begin to eat your food.

This dinner is the definition of ‘absolutely donkey dicks’. You couldn’t even consider the food you were eating as actual “food”. Plastic toy food from a child’s playset looks and smells more appetizing. The only thing that you can swallow without gagging is the bottle of Gin which is slowly asking for a refill. You sighed as you looked up from your plate and saw Toji slurping down oyster after oyster. You pushed the food around your plate with little enthusiasm.

Toji attempted to start a conversation multiple times, but his efforts fell flat in the suffocating silence that hung between you two.

Toji cleared his throat in an attempt to once again start a conversation causing you to look at him downcast. “So, uh, how’s the food?” he asked tentatively, his voice tinged with unfamiliar uncertainty.

You glanced up at him with a weary sigh, your disappointment written plainly across your face. “The lobster tastes like those bouncy balls you get from quarter machines drenched in garlic and butter and the steak is both ice cold and boiling lava hot.” You look back at your food. “How’s your oysters? Good?”

“Delectable. Like slurping down The God of Lust and War’s plump pearls.”

“Ugh…”

The silence stretched on between you two, the weight of your unspoken frustrations hanging heavy in the air. Toji let out a heavy sigh bringing your attention back to him.

“Look, uh… Y/N…” Toji started fidgeting. “I know this date is total shit. Worse than shit probably. Nobody likes fucking Red Lobster. Being in this place makes me want to set fire to the building trapping all these wrinkly white-haired fucks and servant dicks to burn. Agonizingly. But I would save you! And the Cheddar Bay Biscuits fuuuck that shit is amazing!”

You raised your eyebrow, but let him continue.

“You were right. I am… banned from most places. Fuck, I mean did you know that I was banned from Chili’s AND Applebee’s? Like, why the fuck would I even be in those shitholes?”

“That… probably has something to do with you setting fire to their parking lot and spray painting ‘FUCK YOUR TAXES’ on their windows respectively at multiple locations.”

“Oh yeeahh… damn. That was a great Halloween.”

“Yeah… it was interesting… watching you eat an entire 5-pound chocolate peep marshmallow and utterly lose your mind in what I can only describe as a hellish sugar rush.”

“Whatever. The point is… I… I really tried, y’know?” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “I said a lot of shit and promised a whole fucking thing, but in reality… this is all I can do… Like, legally or whatever…”

You stared at Toji in somewhat disbelief. You were witnessing something striking and shocking. Were you actually seeing Toji being… remorseful? The Toji Fushiguro?

“So… not to be all… stupid and pathetic… but… y’know… I’m…”

“You’re?”

“I’m… thmrrry…”

“You’re what?” You leaned in.

“Mm mpfrrf!”

“Toji, I can’t understand you. Get your hand away from your mouth.”

“I’m sorry!” he shouted. “There. I said it.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You bit the inside of your cheek just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. “Woah, Toji…” you mutter, stunned. “I didn’t think those words were capable of forming. I always thought that if you even tried saying it you’d vomit up blood and your intestines would explode.”

“Fucking… whatever, okay! Don’t make a big deal outta it. I only said it ‘cuz I wanted to…!” He was blushing and fidgeting more. “But that’s not all.”

Toji reached into his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a small velvet black box, his expression awkward and face slightly red as he pushed it across the table to you.

"I,… uh…, got you something," he grumbled, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and avoiding meeting your eyes. “Just— don’t make a big deal over it…”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. Your skepticism warring at the unfamiliar genuine tone shift as you opened the box. You gasped softly. Inside the box, a beautiful arctic blue shone brighter than all the dim lights in the restaurant. You looked at Toji then back at the necklace. You were honestly speechless and your heart immediately softened into soft serve ice cream.

“Happy anniversary…” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear.

“Toji, this is…” you began, at a loss for words as you struggled to adjust to the sweet gesture that was foreign to Toji’s entire personality. “This is the sweetest and most beautiful thing you’ve ever done. Thank you, Toji.”

Toji softly frowned bashfully, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Good,” he stated firmly. “But, uh… just don’t wear it outside. It’s stolen.”

“Stolen?” you echoed.

“Yeah. An old buddy owed me a favor after getting rid of a few… pests for him. He said I could take anything as compensation so I took The Tears of Benzaiten. I was gonna pawn it, but then I thought of you and… shit y’know…” he trailed off, the blush growing on his face. “Then a few days later, he put a bounty on it and got all fucking weird about it. So, just… don’t wear it anywhere, got it? I like your face and I wouldn’t want a bunch of scars and bruises ruining it.”

“Toji. Are you seriously telling me that I’m holding a Japanese national treasure with a big enough bounty that I could be killed just for holding it and you are just giving it to me in a Red Lobster for our anniversary?”

Toji shrugged nonchalantly. “Y/N, you’re much more beautiful than some stupid necklace made from the tears of Goddess worth 90 billion Yen. And you know that if anyone came within 20 feet of you, I’d rip out their esophagus and crumple their pathetic human bodies into nothing.”

You sat in stunned silence trying to process all the information that was just thrown on you. You looked down at the necklace. Suddenly, you started to giggle. Then, your giggles turned to laughter. You put your head down as your laughter grew louder and louder. After a few moments and murmurs from other patrons later, you raised your head and leaned your cheek against your hand.

“Toji Fushiguro, you’re so…” You tried to find the words to describe the absurdity happening right now. “Impossible.” you remarked fondly, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I love you for it.”

Toji smirked proudly.

“But, I hate to break it to you baby… today’s not our anniversary.”

Toji's smirk immediately diminished. “What?! Yeah, it is!”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Afraid not, baby. You see… we don’t have an anniversary.”

“Yeah we do! We had our first date and everything!”

“We met at the track, went to a bar, and then had sex. Then, you disappeared for a week then you came back and we had make up sex. Other than that, you’ve been gone for about 75% of this relationship. This is technically the only date we’ve been on that didn’t end with me getting drunk and us having loud sex in the bathroom.”

“So… it’s not our anniversary?”

You shook your head again.

“FUCK!” Toji shouted, slamming his hand on the table with a loud crash and groaning into the booth.

You slightly giggled and put the necklace in your bag. You gently grabbed Toji’s hand and he flinched slightly at your sudden touch.

“If this were our anniversary, it would be the best anniversary ever.” You kissed his hand and stood up, looking down at his flushed face. “Come on.” you gestured, throwing some money with a big tip as promised on the table. “Let’s go home.”

Toji smiled and took your hand as you both left the restaurant, much to the other patrons' relief. As you both made your way back to the apartment, you had a small flicker of hope. For the future. For the relationship. For Toji.

It started out as a really shitty date, but turns out, deep down, Toji can be romantic. In his own way, of course.

When you both entered the apartment, Toji grabbed your hips and kissed you deeply. You melted into arms and moaned into the kiss. He pulled away with a smirk.

“You taste like garlic butter Gin.”

“And you taste like oysters.”

You stepped away from him and walked towards the living room.

“And where the hell are you going?” Toji asked, following close behind.

“Well, we’ve had makeup sex, angry sex, drunk sex, bathroom sex, and Scandinavian Yeti sex. But I don’t think we’ve had “anniversary” sex yet.”

Toji grinned smugly as he rushed you and threw you over his shoulder. “Fuck yeah! I’m not gonna let ya sleep tonight!” Toji roared, giving your ass a smack. You let out a gasp and laugh.

You hated this man sometimes, but you couldn’t deny the amount of love you had for him too.

This truly was the best anniversary ever.

~Omake~

“Urrreeegh…! Urg… fuck…”

“I told you not to eat those oysters, baby.” you soothed, rubbing Toji back gently.

Halfway through sexy time, Toji jumped off of you and started to feel the horrible after effects of Red Lobster oysters. You cringed as Toji continued to retch, groan, and spit all of his dinner in the toilet bowl.

“I’ll kill those bastards…! I’ll slit their throats and dance on their backs! I’ll get those– ugh! Oh god… bleerghh!”

You sigh and smile softly at his very real threats. You stepped out of the bathroom and put on some clothes.

“Where you goin’! We’re not… urgh… done yet!”

“Well, we’re gonna be here for a while, baby. I don’t know much about sorcerers, but I’m pretty sure I can recognize the symptoms of food poisoning.”

Toji groaned. “Fucking Red Lobster… making me miss out on anniversary sex…”

“I’ll be back in a few. You’re gonna need some water, Pepto Bismol, soda, crackers, and light snacks to keep down.”

“Nooo… don’t go…” he wearily waved at you to come back.

You leaned against the door frame of the bathroom, smiling gently at the sick man. “Do you want anything? I can get you some scratch off tickets. Dragon Stars Lotto. Those are your favorite, right?”

Toji smiled weakly. “You’re an angel, baby.”

You kissed the back of Toji's neck and smiled as he shuddered against your lips.

“When you get back, I’m gonna fuck the memories of anyone else outta you.”

You laughed, grabbed your bag, and left the apartment. Smiling and hopeful for what’s to come next.

—

a/n: yo. sorry i've been gone for so long. been trying to find a new job and then suddenly decided to learn blender animation for some reason. (if anyone can give me tips it would be much appreciated) so i started working on this in February for like a valentine's thing then looked up and saw that is April so... happy april fool's! or whatever... enjoy a not so serious toji fic. more to come soon.

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suzukiblu · 15 days

Text

current projects’ current progress:

Jason gets knocked up and accidentally goes home about it [ J; ??/100 ]

mirrorverse!Clark and Kon’s daddy issues both get some [ this-is-a-terrible-idea; ??/45 ]

mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees [ Jan; 35/60 ]

mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees [ anon; 0/60 ]

nineties “Captain America” ride or die [ this-was-a-terrible-idea; 0/60 ]

alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega [ tabetharasa; 43/120 ]

dealer’s choice, undecided [ redflawedglass; 0/100 ]

Ko-fi subs:

Cassie fic [ lottie; 500/1k ]

obligatory sugar baby Kon [ Mango Bat; 500/500 ]

obligatory sugar baby Kon [ 🦄; 300/500 ]

obligatory sugar baby Kon [ miri_tiazan; 0/500 ]

Jackson Kyle comes to Gotham [ this-was-a-terrible-idea; 500/500 ]

the puzzle-trap sex room [ S; 0/500 ]

a fake cryptid and a real romantic [ Derpsheep; 500/500 ]

Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! [ K; 500/500 ]

obligatory sugar baby Kon [ Marina; 0/500 ]

the Gotham Kid [ Jan; 500/500 ]

Kara gets to Earth on time [ Plot Bunny; 500/500 ]

TBD x 2 [ Paradox ]

obligatory sugar baby Kon [ Ko-fi thank-yous; 0/6k ]

DPxDC events/challenges:

dpxdcbigbang fic [ 4.8k/5k ]

“Who Wrote That?” entry [ ??/?? ]

“Who Wrote That?” entry [ 300/3k ]

“Who Wrote That?” entry [ 0k/3k ]

#progress report #omegaverse

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magnoliacharmed · 2 years

Text

Mango Lip Gloss

(not my gif!)

18+, Lalo Salamanca x Fem!Reader one shot smut

[Also available on Archive of our Own!]

Word count: ~2.8k

Tags: Rough sex, condomless sex, older man/younger woman, teasing, eye contact, sugar daddy, dirty talk, car sex, daddy kink

Summary:

Lalo Salamanca brings you along with him and Nacho for a late night ride in the desert. Nacho is made to wait outside of the car while Lalo and you have fun.

The warm desert winds of New Mexico whipped strands of your hair to get stuck in your sticky lip gloss. For about the hundredth time that night, you moved your hair out of the way and pushed it back only to be thwarted again. The wind did feel nice despite you annoyance. It was dry, much drier than the wind from your hometown. Staring out into the landscapes passing you by, you began to think of home. There was nothing waiting for you there. No home to call your own, no job, no family, not even a pet to anxiously await your returning presence. New Mexico was your home for the time being. Your thoughts began to get clouded at the circumstances that led you to this moment; sitting in the back of a drug dealer's old school car while flying through the never ending desert late at night.

The song playing was something upbeat in Spanish. It pounded through the impressive sound system in the car and was bringing forth the beginnings of a headache. Maybe getting involved with someone you couldn't understand half of the time was not a smart idea, you thought. But on the other hand it didn't matter. You preferred to be ignorant of the things he said. From his tone it tended to sound like something you didn't want to know anyways. You did at least wish you could understand the music. Lalo Salamanca talked loudly over it to the man driving the car, Nacho Varga. He was in a particularly jovial mood for reasons you weren't fully aware of. A wide smile covered his face as he told what seemed like a joke to the driver, who returned a tight smile to him.

From your position behind the driver's seat you could tell that Nacho was strained. He was always strained the few times you'd seen him. His eyes, pools of sorrow and anger surrounded in long curled lashes, flickered over to Lalo and then to the rearview mirror. As soon as you met them there you had to look away. Too intense. Lalo curled his body back around the passenger seat to look at you. You were once again removing the strands of hair from your lips. Surely the gloss was smudged across your face now.

With a frustrated huff you reached for your tiny designer purse. It didn't contain anything but a few hundred dollar bills, a compact, lip gloss, and extra pair of panties. Lalo had managed to convince you that you didn't need to carry anything else, not even a cell phone. You figured that since he bought you the purse you should take heed on that "suggestion". As you flipped open the compact and unscrewed the applicator from the gloss tube, Lalo shifted just the slightest in his seat. He was watching you reapply the shiny, mango scented gloss. Something about the way your full lips parted just slightly… your concentration while you applied to make sure you didn't go past your lip line, the way your lips smacked together when you were done. The scent of the gloss was strong and wafted through the car quickly as the wind flew through the open windows. A playful wink at your boyfriend was all it took to make him rock hard.

"You're getting yourself cute for me." Lalo's eyes were aflame with passion, but his smile tried to show that he was just joking around. "Or is it for Nachito over here? She looks cute, huh?" Lalo nudged Nacho. He was too smart for the trap, eyes not leaving the road ahead of him. A terse nod was the only response he gave. Yes, you were a cute girl. A girl, not a woman. He figured that's why Lalo kept you around, because of your youth. You weren't a baby at 22 years of age, but you certainly weren't as grown up as you thought. Nacho could tell that just like many other men, Lalo liked having a young woman worship everything he did. Besides, Nacho was too occupied with the extenuating circumstances life kept throwing at him in recent days. He had no time for relationships of any kind. In fact he wondered how Lalo made time to drag you away.

"He's so stoic. Never has any fun!" Lalo waved off his associate. "But you, mamita, you know how to have fun with me." Blood rushed to your cheeks at the memories of your escapades. Hotel rooms, in his car, in Nacho's car, behind auto shops… Lalo would take you anywhere he wanted to. Whenever he grabbed you it was with a tight grip and an urgency. He left you wet and aching, clawing at him for more before he told you to be quiet and wait for later. You liked being used like that, especially in the broad daylight when he was in the middle of his business. You'd return to the room with a huge reddish-purple hickey on your neck or the top of your cleavage, letting all the other cartel members know that you were his. Then he'd take you out to eat at a nice restaurant or buy you a fancy piece of jewelry at the mall. Yes, this was much more exciting than home.

A yawn, louder than you expected, escaped your lips. A quick glance at your dainty gold watch told you that it was midnight. How much longer would you be driving? Where were you even going? When you got in the car Lalo told you that you all were just going on a trip. That was two hours ago. If you fell asleep now you'd probably wake up just as you arrived back in Albuquerque. With that thought now being the only thing on your mind, you rearranged yourself to lay on your side and face the backseat. You didn't wear much more than tank tops and cutoff shorts around Lalo, and tonight was no different. The pair you had on was cut a little higher than usual. He knew you were teasing him by having your ass face out to him. The view of the seat of your shorts meeting right at the soft flesh of lips caused him to squint into the rearview mirror, then shut his eyes.

"Hmm," was the last thing you heard from him as you drifted off into sleep.

---

The sound of a car door slamming shut awoke you with a jolt. It was still nighttime and you were still in the middle of nowhere. You wanted to take a nice, cool shower and lay in plush sheets instead of being glued to a leather car seat. The car was parked as Nacho and Lalo were outside for a bathroom break. With a stretch of your limbs, you turned onto your stomach. Hopefully after this you'd be taken back to ABQ. You didn't even understand what the point of all this driving was. The rear door by your feet opened and suddenly the full weight of Lalo's body pressed down on you. You were trapped under him, feeling shocked, scared, and immediately turned on. His erection pressed right into your smooth legs, the feeling weird due to also having his scratchy denim against you. His large metal belt buckle, which always made you giggle internally at its size, was cold against the small of your back.

Lalo's lips were close to your ear. "You've been teasing me all night. The smell of that gloss drives me insane. And those shorts... you know exactly what you're doing." He moved your hair to the side to begin kissing your neck more gently than usual. He was going to take his time. The prospect of that sent butterflies through your stomach.

Just as soon as you thought tonight would be different, you felt the seat of your shorts and panties moved to the side. Lalo rocked back onto his knees, your legs spread apart around him. You were glistening with arousal. The pushed to the side fabric of your shorts pressed your outer labia together. Lalo's eyes widened at the soft plushness of your lips, shining and full just like the ones on your face. He pressed back down on you, filling you to the hilt with his thick cock.

"Ah!-pshhhhh." You could no longer form coherent words, just noises while his member massaged you. Lalo loved the way that you mumbled when he fucked you, the way you always went dumb when he fucked you hard. The tip of him hit your g-spot, causing your legs to fly up behind him. He grabbed you up by your neck and turned your face into his. The clear gloss was definitely smudged now. The scent of it invaded his nostrils while he hungrily kissed you, tongue swirling around yours. A string of spit trailed between you two as he moved his head away, pushing your face back down into the seat. The artificially sweet mango scent settled into his mustache while he pumped away.

The hickey Lalo began to leave was painful as usual. Your moans alternated into gasps interspersed with nonsense mumbling. Every few strokes, he'd push into you as deeply as possible. He'd stay there for a second, then pump quickly into your spot for a few strokes to make you scream. He laughed the first time he did it, raising your head back again to wipe away the drool from your mouth. The fabric of your jeans continued to rub into your clit while his strokes pushed you back and forth. Your thin wife beater shirt rubbed into your nipples too, reminding you that you weren't wearing a bra. The overstimulation was sending you to the edge.

"How does it feel? I'm gonna fuck you until you can't feel those pretty legs. I want my little slut to beg me to stop." There was that mean edge to him, the part of him that flashed to the world every once in a while. It could be a little surprising but you came around to liking it. Only a man like him would be allowed to be so awful in that way and still command respect. It had to be that way because he'd always get nice again, even if it was a facade.

More gurgles came out at Lalo's purposefully slowing strokes inside you. His fingers moved to your clit to rub lazily over it. He knew you were reaching your limit. He was too, the warmth of you almost too much to handle. Your pussy clenched around him while your nails clenched into the seat. The weight of him on you knocked the wind out of your chest and made you blank out for a second. Right, you were getting fucked harder than you'd ever been in the back of a car! How could you ever forget?

"Feels good… you feel good," Your lips were smushed against the seat as the words dragged and lilted out of you. "You feel so good, daddy."

Lalo's hand curled into the hair at the base of your scalp to raise you up roughly. You were sure it was going to rip out of your head if he held it any tighter. He was still mid-stroke, cock almost pressing against your spot again. You were instantly regretful over your choice of words.

"What did you call me?" Lalo's voice was… you couldn't quite tell. Strained? It was growly, definitely. On the calm side though. He had to be pissed.

"D-daddy. I'm sorry," You breathed.

His laugh was dark. Dark and playful. "Mmm. I like that. Means I'm fucking you right! Tell me, is daddy fucking you the way you like?"

Lalo's hand was still tangled in your hair. Thankfully he had released some of the grip on it. In the reflection of the window, you saw that charming smile he mastered in the reflection. The same smile he gave cashiers and clerks when he wanted to get his way. The same one he gave you when he had you right where he wanted you. With a suddenness that disoriented you, you were placed on your back. Lalo's face was so close to you that your noses almost touched. Your right leg was placed on his shoulder, giving his cock purchase against your warm opening. His eyes were locked on you, while yours darted around your head. A hand began to gently run across your cheek, such a sweet gesture from him.

"I love the way you fuck me."

With those words, the feeling of him filling you up erased all other feeling from you. Lalo refused to look anywhere else but into your eyes with a look you could only describe as passionate. He wouldn't say that, of course. You could tell. He slid into you so easily. His large arms wrapped behind your back to get you even closer to him. The belt buckle dug into your stomach and felt alien in comparison to the feeling of fabric and skin. His thrusts were more deliberate than earlier. He wanted to feel every part of you, every muscle grabbing and releasing around his dick. The words he said to you in Spanish didn't seem as mean as usual. You wouldn't know the difference either way.

"Tell me again, and look at me this time. You're gonna look me in my eyes when I make you-- come." Lalo's breath quickened in pace. He was close. He didn't think the term of endearment you let slip would make him feel like this so soon. His hand moved from your cheek to your chin to hold your face in place. There was no running away. It's not like you had anywhere you wanted to go.

"I fucking… love the way you fuck me, daddy. Will you come inside me, please?" Your lips trembled at saying it again. Something about the way your voice rose when you spoke to him in the throes of sex made him keep coming back. The little things you did, from putting on lip gloss to fixing your shorts were the things that Nacho didn't understand about your presence amongst them. You had your worth.

"You know just what to say, huh? Naughty girl, begging for my come like that. Impaciente." Lalo refused to lose by breaking eye contact first. He needed to see you come undone from him. He wasn't able to hold on any longer though, thick ropes of his seed releasing inside you. You lost your breath at the warm sensation. Your own orgasm hit you hard, so hard you wrapped your legs around him so he couldn't pull out too soon. You had to have his cock in you while you twitched over it. The two of you stayed stuck together like that for a moment to revel in the moment. Little aftershocks rolled through you while he smiled at you again, this time with no semblance of mischief or evil. Just the genuine happy relief of someone who was thoroughly satisfied. Your smile back was small. He tired you out even more than you already were, causing your eyelids to get heavy.

"Ha!" Lalo laughed, winning the staring contest. "Alright, get up and change out of those panties. We've got a long drive back to Albuquerque." He left a wet kiss on your cheek before raising up to put his softened dick back into his pants. Climbing out of the car, he shut the door for your privacy. You quickly switched out your underwear, happy he made you bring an extra pair. Despite all of his terrifying moments there was a caring man somewhere within Lalo. That's what you told yourself, at least. You could pretend for the time being that he cared. He cared enough to buy you things and let you stay with him. In the back of your head you knew that could change at any second. For the meantime you decided to push that thought away and just be happy.

You were sitting upright when Nacho and Lalo got back in the front seats. The car roared to life, music blasting. Nacho still wore that same terse look on his face as reality dawned on you. You and Lalo forced him to wait outside while you two had sex! Embarrassment took you completely. Lalo turned to wink at you mockingly as if to say "Gotcha!. He began to speak to Nacho in Spanish, laughing every once in a while. Deep breaths inhaled that mango scent over and over. You moved back behind the driver's seat to stare out of the window again, the wind rushing by just as before to throw your hair into your lip gloss while the three of you sped back to ABQ.

#lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #bcs #bcs fanfic #bcs smut #better call saul #magnoliafanfic

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wholesalefriutsvegetables · 10 months

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#fresh fruits #indian fresh tomato #fresh fruits supplier #fresh fruits n vegitable on vending carts #delhi #carts dealer in delhi #fresh fruits & fresh vegetables #where our fruits come from in india #fresh fruits & fresh vegetables wholesale distributor #indian fruits names in hindi and english #sell fruits online in india #sell fruits and vegetables #indian street food #fruits #mango dealer #center fresh #cart dealers in delhi #fresh fruit wholesale market

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ratsoh-writes · 6 months

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Dealers choice~

PILLOW FIGHTS. How do they cope, fight, hide, etc.

-wisteria

makes a pillow fort that could survive a nuclear bomb, then bans every one but friends from entering: edge mal lord wine captain sir butler

Spends all their energy and effort into trying to break the forts above: red coffee bruiser roost hook fisher finn rust weasel gold Flambe cricket

Makes the lamest pillow fort ever and falls asleep in it: sans oak G ram sails orion barin tempo

Tosses a pillow saying it’s a grenade and screams at every one to get down every time it lands: cash pop barley Jasper charm sparks Alden compass

Somehow attaches pillows together to make long pillow weapons like pillow swords: papyrus rhythm boss cider mango lilac atlas arwin

Attaches pillows to actual weapons: ace mutt snipe maple pesto

Nobody will fight them cause the creepy body pillow figure they’re using makes them all uncomfortable: slim crow basil Artemis

They are the pillow. They get tossed around with the pillows: honey Pluto quill papaya sugar Ollivander zen charm vibrato

Attempts to sneak away from the pillow fight, but is dragged back in by overeager friends: green peaches pitch salt pepper saga

Uses a couch cushion as a massive battle hammer pillow to crush all their enemies: Star Jupiter butch rancher moose harpy Helios lush Hilda shield

Is unable to participate due to health reasons but throughly enjoys the show: willow noir

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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g04distributors · 1 year

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#peanut butter manufacturers #peanut butter supplier #wholesale peanut butter suppliers #Peanut butter distributors #Peanut butter distributorship #peanut butter wholesaler #peanut butter dealers #Natural crunchy peanut butter dealers #protein bars dealers #mango protein bar distributorship #peanut choco protein bar manufactures #berries protein bar wholesaler

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vikkrest · 1 month

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Dos vaqueros|Friendship of families|Alerudy

Rudy and Alejandro didn't just grow up in the same city, they lived literally across the fence from each other. The Vargas and Parra families have always been happy to have each other's company.

— Well, what do you think? Alejandro turned his head in the direction of Rodolfo, who was sitting a step higher than him, stretching forward his legs in knee-length shorts. He twitched an eyebrow, moved his shoulder, and sucked on a slice of mango again, the juice of which was already dripping from his elbows onto the steps. Alejandro grinned and reached into a bowl of sliced fruit, fishing out an apple slice.

Rodolfo wiped the moisture from his lips, actually only smearing it more on his cheeks and wiped his lips before answering:

— You're right. It's not easy for old people to live here in Las Almas. We should move them somewhere nice, away from these shootings and drugs.

Alejandro nodded, putting the same piece of apple in his mouth, and Rodolfo continued his thought. His face twisted slightly, he tilted his head a bit to the side and shook it with an air of mild irritation.

"But you know my mother..." Rodolfo drawled the words with a subtle hint of condescending reproach. — She began to live hand in hand in our house with the father as soon as she turned sixteen, and you and I are soon over thirty. Her whole life has been spent here…

Alejandro nodded, pursing his lower lip between his teeth, and leaned his shoulder against Rodolfo's calves. He sighed, scratched his knee and looked at the intersection ahead. The traffic lights changed from red to green, and cars skidded on the road surface, looking like those big shiny beetles that he and Rudy had been looking for in the grass, scouring the nearby forest after school.

Alejandro blinked and muttered a thought that was scratching at the subcortex of his brain:

— And the husband, it turns out, is also here…

—Yes...— Rodolfo drawled thoughtfully, even stopping chewing for a couple of moments.

They fell silent again. The sun, damn it, was baking without sparing anyone, to the point that going to work only in ubderwear seems like a good idea. Everything was drying up: the grass was withering underfoot, the flowers in pots and front gardens were withering, even the fucking roads were melting. Along with it, apparently, Alejandro's brains melted too, the feeling thatthey were about to pour out of his ears. Good thing that it was a little cooler in the houses, otherwise it would have been some kind of very cruel torture. Rodolfo, although he kept up well for a couple of days, on the third day he also whined and asked for a couple of days off. Alejandro was not a bastard, so he gave the go-ahead. And then he excused himself too, not officially, but on the other hand, who will turn him in? There are no urgent matters yet, Rodolfo took the reports with him and filled them out, he's such a good guy, and the local dealers have all disappeared somewhere too. Stuffiness, as it turned out, has become the best guarantor of peace in the city and a means of reducing the crime index to almost zero.

"But you talk to her anyway. It's boring alone, but maybe if we move our elders there, we can settle them together. Alejandro muttered, turned his body towards Rodolfo and put his arm back, leaning on it so as not to fall on his back.

— I'll talk to her, try to convince her to move. And Aunt Vargas, what does she say to your idea?

Alejandro smiled broadly and shook his head.

— Mom refuses to move far away from her girlfriends. I'll introduce her to facetime as soon as I have time. And she said she wasn't going to forget about Aunt Parra, she said, take her with me, you can even leave your dad here in Mexico.

Rodolfo laughed, covering his mouth and squinting his eyes. The corners of Alejandro's lips twitched, and he popped a cube of melon pulp from a fruit bowl into his mouth, looking at his laughing comrade with warmth in the depths of his dark eyes.

- The task is very clear, - Rodolfo guffawed, not letting up. — Okay, let's go inside, I'm hot.

Alejandro nodded and went up the stairs with a loud sigh, shook his cramped muscles slightly and slapped Rodolfo on the thigh.

— Rudy, you eat like a hippopotamus. All the steps are sticky!

— Leave me alone. - The man waved him away, letting out a light laugh.

— Mom! Alejandro snorts, wiping traces of pink lipstick from his overgrown cheek. Rodolfo grinned from the doorway, but still stepped into the house, where he was immediately squeezed in a tight embrace.

— Our boys have finally decided to visit their parents! - Aunt Vargas chirps, her voice trembling slightly with excitement and joy, she pulls the men into the house with her, where Alejandro's father was sitting by the window smoking, and on the other side sat Rodolfo's mother, embroidering something. She looked up at the noise and immediately melted into a warm smile. Rodolfo looked out from behind the doorway and arched his eyebrows in surprise.

— Oh, Mom! Rodolfo slipped past the chatting Vargas family, kissed her on both cheeks and sat down next to her, folding his hands in his lap.

— And you're here too, Mom. It's early in the morning, why aren't you at home?

The old woman sighed, putting down her embroidery, and stretched out her hand to the man's hair, gently smoothing it.

— What's at home? Bored at home, son, what should I do there? Frida and I just came from the market, walked, talked, and bought vegetables. - The woman spoke, and Rodolfo looked at her attentively, nodding at almost every word. — That's it. And there's nothing to do at home, get up, watch the news: There's a war, they killed here, that's all the news! We don't need them, it's better to take a walk outside. - Mrs. Parra spoke with feeling, and her son only agreed.

— That's right, Mom. But did Aunt Frida tell you that Alejandro offered them to move?

The woman looked at her son and nodded, rustling in a low voice.

— Yes, son, - she said. - she was asking me to come with her, but I did not know whether to agree or refuse. We have a house, son, such a house! - The woman murmured excitedly, and Rodolfo put her hand in his.

— Mom, don't worry about the house, I'll stay here, I'll live, its's not going anywhere. - Rodolfo began to persuade his mother, murmuring in her tone, softly and lightly, but the woman began to cry:

— With your job, son, it's scary, they'll kill you, take away the house, sell everything. They won't leave any memory of your father. If there was a wife and kids, it wouldn't be so scary, but if so…

The man looked away, noticing Alejandro's parents standing nearby. He did not observe the man himself in the field of view.

The phrase "here we go again" naturally flashed through Rodolfo's head, but he returned his gaze to his mother's face and continued to press, expressing himself with the softness of a cat's step and the persistence of a mountain sheep.

— Mom, everything will be fine. If you'd live with Aunt Frida, you won't have to get up every morning to come here. There will be no shootings in the night, no one will cause riots in the markets. That's better!

The woman sighed, but nodded in agreement. Alejandro's mom called them from the other side of the living room

— Inez! Look, we called Francesca on the video! Rodolfo smiled and turned back to his mother, whose eyes shone, and he helped her get up from the sofa.

— Miracles! - Mrs. Parra exclaimed, trotting up to her friend.

Alejandro's head popped from behind the doorjamb, and Rodolfo immediately darted past the old women into the corridor.

— Well, how it went? — Straight to the point, Alejandro is impatient as always. Rudy nodded, giving a thumbs up. The man opposite let out a long "hee-ee-ee" and they both chuckled.

The first step of the plan has been completed successfully.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod alejandro #cod alejandro vargas #cod rudy #cod rodolfo parra #alerudy #rudy parra #alejandro cod #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo parra #alejandro vargas

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