#mickey fanfiction

[toxicanonymity]

that scream blurb that you posting about Ghostface being unconscious and the reader testing to see if he’s hard…. you have to make the full fic now pleaseee omg it was so good

Every inch

1.4k / m!ghostface x f!reader / from blurb.

SEQUEL: EVERY INCH 2 🔪 THREEQUEL: 3

Slasher master list

Warnings/notes: I8+ noncon (ghostface unconscious) somnophilia. Based on the car scene from Scream II, but it's modern day (cell phones exist).  You can HC this as anyone but he's night walks coded if you read my other stuff.

Your skirt grazes his robe as you carefully stretch your right leg over the driver’s seat, trying not to touch him, trying not to wake him up.  It’s tricky crawling over Ghostface to get out of the car.  He smells faintly of weed and sweat.  You’ve never been close enough to smell him before. You’ve never been close to him at all for more than a few seconds, always with his knife in hand.  You hear him breathing behind the mask and assume he’s knocked out from the impact of the crash, but can't know for sure. 

He could be pretending for his own amusement, planning to taunt you then stab you at any moment. You’re going to have to open that car door sooner or later - it’s the only one left you haven’t tried.  It'll definitely make a noise. You hover there straddling him, delaying the inevitable. Straddling Ghostface, you think to yourself. Is this a nightmare? 

You slowly lower yourself into his lap, throbbing at the possibilities of what might await you.  Your heart pounds in your chest.  You put your hands on the edge of the seat to pull your body  closer and your heart nearly stops as  your inner thigh softly nudges  his hand.  But he doesn’t wake up – or if he does, he doesn’t show it.  Emboldened, you lower yourself a little more until your damp panties arrive at a warm bulge in his robe and your breath hitches.  He’s only somewhat hard,  but obviously packing.  He still doesn’t move.  His chest is rising and falling with his breaths.  You know he’s alive.  Unable to resist, you lower yourself a little more.  You tilt your hips and gently grind yourself against his package.  

What if the nightmare became a wet dream? It’s always turned you on, at least a little, but especially lately.  It’s been harder and harder to separate arousal from fear.  You’ve wondered if it was a sexual thing for him, the way he pursues you.  Stabbing is penetrative after all.  Does the thought of killing you turn him on? Would it turn him on to wake up to you straddling him?  After all, he’s only a man.  Why not, you think.  This could be your best chance to find out.  This might be the most power you’ll ever have in the situation.  You’re turned on thinking about it.  If you’re mere seconds from potential death, you have nothing to lose.  Plus you're curious what's under all this, and it's too risky to lift up his mask.

Fuck it feels good, and the fact that it’s Ghostface, the one who’s been stalking you, killing your friends, trying to kill you - that gives you such a rush.  The tables have turned.  You’re on top of him now.  You look around for his knife and it’s landed on the floorboard along with his voice changer.  You reach down to grab it then quickly stab it into the back of the driver’s seat at an angle so you can grab it if you need to but he won’t know where it is.  Then you return your crotch to his and a bolt of arousal slices through you when his hard package swells against you.  Holy shit he's hung. You slowly roll your hips against him, grinding into him, trying not to be too aggressive, but it’s hard to control yourself. 

-

His breathing changes and your heart jumps to your throat. You wonder, Is Ghostface seduceable? It might be your best shot if you're already getting his dick wet when he wakes up.  But there's always the chance he reacts violently, and now that you're up against him, it's clear you'd be no match for his strength.

Then you have a thought.  You carefully lift his gloved hand, and he doesn’t react.  You lift the dead weight of his heavy arm all the way above his mask, and he still just sits there, breathing.  You pin both his hands above his head, between the metal pegs of the headrest. His hands are large and the two of them together barely fit through the gap.  Then you slam down the headrest, pinning him there by his wrists.

His mask moves.  He seems to look at you.  Then a soft, low sigh.  You lower your crotch again and he’s harder.  You rub yourself against him slowly with your hands braced on the seat and have to stifle a moan in the shoulder of your dress as you grind against him and his cock swells even harder.  A soft groan muffled by his mask makes you wetter.  

You’re going to have to have him.  This is your chance and you can’t resist it.  Your inner thigh muscles begin to fatigue as you push yourself off his lap to hover again.  You lift up his robe, exposing PJ pants. Strange and not at all imposing, but convenient.  You arrange the robe behind his raging erection, then take a deep breath and pull down his waistband.  His stiff member stands at attention. You cover it with your warmth before the cool air wakes him up. A stab of desire shoots through your core as your wet panties meet his hard cock.  You rub yourself against him and your clit throbs.  Your core aches to be filled. 

You pull your panties to the side and nestle the swollen head of his cock at your entrance.  Then you sink down and fail to suppress your gasp at the stretch.  He moans but doesn’t move.  Your body makes way for him as you slide down and sheathe him entirely with your cunt.  His cock is nice and thick, it makes you feel so full.  It’s crazy this cock has been under the robe the entire time.  You wonder if you could just fuck from now on.  If he’d agree not to kill you - that is, if the threat of it doesn't turn him on.

You rise up, then sink down on him again, his size making you grateful for your ample wetness.  You lift and lower yourself and roll your hips into him. You try not to breathe too heavily as you feel it building in your lower belly.  You start to ride him less restrained, unable to resist fucking yourself on his nice, hard cock.  

-

His mask begins to move as though confused, and he grunts as he tugs at his arms,  unable to free them from the headrest.  He’s groggy and weak.  You’re not going to stop. You're too close to coming.  You greedily keep filling yourself to the brim with him.

His mask looks right at you. “Always wanted this cock,” ghostface says weakly, making your heart race.  “Knew it.”  Then it echoes from the voice changer on the floorboard.  Always wanted this cock.  Knew it.   He tugs at his hands more violently, then gives up.  

“Nasty girl,” he says, voice getting stronger.  Nasty Girl. 

He thrusts his hips up powerfully and you moan uninhibited. He thrashes his arms and stabs upward with his cock, bouncing you on his lap with the power of his hips.  Your whole body tingles and tenses, then you bite your own arm as your walls clamp down around him.  You come on his dick, then pull yourself off and he groans in frustration but has no way of getting you back.  

You open the car door and you’re torn about whether to make him come or leave him with blue balls.  You decide to jerk him off as a power move.  You kneel into the open door frame of the car.  You wrap your hand around his girth and fuck his fist.  “All ya had to do was ask,” he says.  All you had to do was ask.  You grab the voice changer and throw it down the street.  Now he's nothing but a man with his dick in your hand.

“Woulda given you every inch," he says. Maybe every inch of his blade.  He nods down to his crotch. "Now you know." His voice is coming back to full strength, smooth and low. It's a voice you can't quite place.

You know you should stab him while you have him tied down, but you're thinking with the wrong head now, unable to bear the thought of this cock going to waste. You slow your hand way down and edge him mercilessly.  His big, stiff cock twitches in your hand and you can tell he's dying for more.

You take your phone out of your bra and take a short video of him trying not to whimper, dick sprouting out of his unimposing pajama pants.  Then you finish him off and take a dick pic selfie with cum all over his robe.  You take the knife out of the back of the seat and leave him stuck in the car.

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Even if you're reading this way later I would love to know your thoughts in a comment! Knowing what you liked helps me write more. 🖤🖤

Thanks @darkscape for helping me brainstorm his tagline. 

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #slasher smut #slasher fanfiction #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw somnophilia #night walks #ghostface #slasher fucker #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mickey altieri #dark fic #ghostface ☠️

[hadesrise]

heart of gold, heart of cold.

summary ➳ you’re much more than just the nicest boy in southside chicago

pairings ➳ ian gallagher x male reader x mickey milkovich

warnings ➳ fluff, foul language, violence, soft boy!reader, homophobia, established polyamorous relationship, absolute badassery lol, mentions of sex, a little apathy, small mention of blood, good but actually not trope, some mental issues

author’s note ➳ haven’t watched shameless, only gallavich scenes and few other moments. my anger issues can’t handle watching all of that. which is why none of my writing of them’s gonna be accurate to the timeline of the series.

Ian and Mickey couldn’t remember the time you were ever mean to anyone even before meeting you, had never even heard of your name being thrown around without it being extremely positive. Everyone had to say everything about you, which is understandable, considering you were definitely the odd type to be in southside Chicago — this place was full of shit with robbery being nonchalantly committed, guns shooting off in different areas, bunch of unconvicted pedophiles walking around, and teenagers high on whatever fucking heavy drugs they first could touch, while you’re out there, helping whoever you think might need help and genuinely being nice to even the worst fucking thugs you would ever meet.

It’s questionable, how someone could be in southside and grow up perfectly sane and not bottled up with any issues or anger.

You’ve always been the talk around the neighborhood, how the (L/n) kid helped some randos again, how you talked to them with the nicest personality and utmost respect, how you smile at anyone who passes by whenever you make eye contact with them, how you were calm in dealing with a situation most people would get frustrated at; just about anything positive. It wasn’t difficult for both Ian and Mickey to fall for you as much as they fell for each other. You were like a single flower blooming in the middle of a garden that a person would come back to just to see your beauty; something about your softness and kind personality struck a core into both of their hearts.

They never had someone like you in their life. A calm, soothing, comforting presence, like the warm sun in the morning. An accepting, welcoming presence, like the mother earth. You’ve always been gentle with them — not something they’re used to, considering the type of household they grew up in — always checking in, making sure they’re okay even if they push you away, taking care of them.

You’re one of the first person Ian came out to other than his family, because he knew you’d never judge. Mickey was rather an asshole in your first meet, nearly beating you up, but the way you didn’t snark or your nice demeanor didn’t change no matter what insults he threw at you made him hesitant, which never happened with Milkovich’s.

When they started sleeping together, you caught on it quickly before anyone else ever did and kept it a secret the entire time, knowing the personal problems they had to deal with; Ian and Mickey only found out you knew when you stopped Terry from making Mickey have sex with Svetlana by just walking in on the interaction. The near innocence in your eyes as you tilted your head slightly to the side, just staring at Terry until he grew uncomfortable and rushed off. He could never stand being near to you, especially with how holier than thou you were. It wasn’t actually an accident to walk in, but they don’t know that.

Despite the awkward circumstances, you were calm and paid Svetlana a good amount before getting both of them dressed and taking care of them, even though they didn’t have to be taken cared of. Your gentleness with them that time really caused something to burst within their chest, the same feeling they were starting to develop towards each other. The acceptance, the comfort, the gentleness. Everything about you felt magical — you felt magical.

Even after Ian and Mickey figured out their shit together, officially came out, figured out their shit together again that both of them liked you, flirted with you and won you over, and officially came out again to their family as polyamorous couple, they had never seen you be a dick. Sure, you swore a lot sometimes when you drop something or miss something, but never towards anyone. They never saw you doing the typical southside thing, being rebellious, smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol, doing drugs or shit.

You’re always nice — and it’s supposed to be a good thing, but it also gets a lot concerning, especially when some dumb fucking guy punched you in the face for mistaking you as someone who slept with his girlfriend and you had the audacity to forgive him when he apologized, making Mickey nearly wanting to strangle you right then and there.

“Why the fuck did you forgive him?” Mickey snarls and shuts the fridge door close, ice pack in hand as he throws it to Ian, who immediately began pressing it to your cheek that was beginning to form a bruise.

You shrugged, “He just mistook me for someone else.”

“Yeah, and fucking punched you in the face without asking first who the fuck you are.” Mickey retorted, giving you a death glare. He moves around to stand beside you on the opposite side of Ian.

You were sitting on the counter facing the dining table where Fiona, Lip, Liam, Carl, Debbie, Sandy, Mandy, and Franny were, all contorting worried look since you’re the nicest and you having a single bruise means when the people you helped before sees it they’re gonna flip over and bury the guy ten feet under while still breathing. Everyone knew you, and you’re literally the holiest within southside, so they naturally hated when someone messed with you.

Your hand shoots up to rub his arm gently, warm look in your eyes as your soft voice speaks to comfort him. “Calm down, Mick. Let it go, I’m fine.” You smile softly, “It was just a little mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Mickey frowns, still angry yet definitely calm now that you’re giving him comfort. “You’re too fucking nice, it’s making me sick.”

You chuckled, grabbing the ice pack from Ian to press it on your cheek yourself. You pull Ian to kiss him on the cheek before doing the same to Mickey, knowing it will help tone down their anger. “At least I have my own guard dogs.” You joke, earning a snicker from the group.

“Haha, very funny.” Mickey sarcastically replies.

Ian sighs, “(Y/n), I think Mickey’s right though. You’re too nice, maybe a bit much. Even to Frank and Terry.” He agreed with his other boyfriend, who puts his hands up in a gesture of i told you so.

You tilted your head, still smiling. “Frank’s your father and Terry’s Mickey’s father. No matter how horrible they are, I don’t think I could treat them any differently from how I treat others.” Shrugging, you ignored both of your boyfriends’ groan and sipped on the orange juice resting on your side.

“What’s up with you treating everyone equally and being unnaturally nice to even someone who doesn’t deserve it?” Fiona asked, genuinely confused with her brows furrowed together and crease forming on her forehead. “You were even nice with Monica.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking for a while.

You could tell them what was really going on, but it would be too much to dump it on them all of a sudden. Being nice and having a lot of patience is a lot difficult, but you learned to, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to survive. It’s a survival skill that you had to adapt to; be nice and you get everything you want. A little... useful tactic that you taught yourself, though it’s more than that.

Deciding against telling them, because it’ll get out when it gets out, you simply gave her a tight-lipped smile and shrugged. “I like spreading dumb kindness. I think it helps people who deals with mental health issues that their relatives probably don’t even know. I might’ve been nice to them and turned their bad day into good day. Small things like that has an impact, you know.”

Mickey scowled, “That makes no sense.”

You simply smiled and patted his cheek, turning to Ian who placed his hand on your waist. “I still think you should’ve done something, (Y/n). Press charges or something.” He said, wanting to convince you.

Shaking your head with a reassuring smile, you kissed his lips and Mickey’s, successfully shutting both of them up as you hopped off of the counter. “I’m going to change. Take me out on a date, will you two?” You let your hands linger on each of their arm before walking away with an angelic smile, leaving the boys staring after you in slight awe.

“Oh my god, you two are so fucking smitten with him.” Sandy remarked, laughing. The others nodded in agreement, deeply amused.

Ian and Mickey rolled their eyes, “The fuck we’re not.” Mickey denies, though failing to convince them and himself.

“But you are,” Lip shrugged. “He’s got you wrapped all around his finger.”

“Kinda cute if you ask me,” Fiona chuckles.

“Oh, fuck off.” Ian retorts, a smile across his face.

Neither would admit it, but they really were. Equally smitten with one another, your relationship had always been wholesome, except for the times all three of you were friends with benefits.

Ian and Mickey slept together first obviously, only started hooking up with you after the incident with Terry. Mickey was first to do it when he went to your house to spend time with you since you’re the only person he could trust aside from Ian, the casual conversation taking a turn after he had asked if you would fuck him if you were gay, which you told him you were, causing Mickey to literally demand a fuck from you.

“Hey, man?” Mickey slowly called to you who was sitting on the opposite side of the ridiculously big couch, eyes focused on the movie with a can of coke in your hand.

“Hm?” You hum, turning to look at him despite being completely indulged in the movie plot. Mickey liked that, how you’re willing to give him your full attention even though you’re busy and don’t even have to look at him at all.

He glances down, picking with his hand, slightly nervous. But he knew you wouldn’t judge, you never did. It was unlikely of him to feel this way, but Mickey couldn’t help it. Nearly unbearable to talk to someone as nice and caring as you yet can’t bring himself to stay away.

“Would you—would you fuck me if you were, you know, fucking gay?”

Your brows raised at the random question. Though it wasn’t difficult to realize it’s because of the previous gay scene in the movie you’re watching where the main characters made love to each other without it being censored and shit. “Well,” You started with a small smile adorning your face, “I don’t know if you knew but I’m actually gay, Milkovich.”

Mickey’s head snapped to your side, eyes wide. “Wait, what? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Or Ian?”

“You didn’t ask,” You simply shrugged. “I normally don’t go around announcing to everybody what my sexuality is. Kind of weird if I did that,” You joked, earning a glare from the Milkovich. “But honestly, I didn’t think it was something I had to tell you or Ian. I just let people guess or notice it on their own.”

“How the fuck do they even notice?" Mickey remarks, furrowing his brows. “I’ve literally never seen you with any guys or girls. Have you even hooked up with somebody?”

You chuckled, “Nope. Wasn’t really interested.”

“Damn,” Mickey gave you a weird look. It was so odd to see someone in southside not doing drugs or shit, let alone sleeping around with whoever they liked. He wasn’t used to it. Now, you feel like a fucking holy being or something. But then, Mickey realizes you never actually answered his question, so he repeated again. “You didn’t answer my fucking question, would you fuck me?”

You’re gay, so might as well shoot his shot. Can’t really miss this opportunity.

You stare at him, something glinting in your eyes that definitely wasn’t innocence. Your lips slowly formed a sly grin as you tilted your head. “What if I said yes? What are you gonna do?”

A smile appeared on Mickey’s lips, “Then fucking get on with it, (L/n).”

Conveniently, you were a switch so Mickey didn’t have to pretend he didn’t like having dick in his ass. He told Ian he slept with you that came off as surprise since apparently Ian also didn’t know you were gay, which led to Ian sleeping with you as well.

“You’re so weird,” Ian laughed when he caught you stacking some nuggets together to build a makeshift tower, having woken up from a friendly sleepover at your house.

You grinned and stacked the last piece of nugget, looking at Ian as you gestured to your work of art. “Tadaaaa!” It caused him to burst out laughing, sitting down beside you on the couch.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked between laughter.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I was bored and you weren’t waking up anytime soon. Figured I’d kill my time.” Smiling, you offered him a can of beer that was sitting on the table, having just taken out from the fridge. Ian accepted, thanking you. “How did you sleep?”

Ian smiled after taking a gulp from the beer and placed it down on the table, “Great, actually. Like the times I haven’t been able to sleep isn’t real.” Relief was evident on his face, considering how big the bags under his eyes were. He never mentioned that you were the reason of him being unable to fall asleep, always thinking of you ever since that horrible day that suddenly turned great with your presence. Hearing about you sleeping with Mickey made him decide nothing will happen if he just thinks around, thus the sleepover.

A soft look crosses your face as you begin to play with his hair, touch displaying gentleness Ian had never felt before. His eyes met yours, such a warm gaze making him feel loved even without doing anything. “Well, I’m glad the cuddle worked, Gallagher. You can always come to me when you can’t sleep, I’ll hold you until you can.” Voice merely above a whisper, you gently told him.

Ian was feeling breathless. Everything about your welcoming and accepting nature deemed temptation; his pupils dilating, throat suddenly dry as if he’s been dehydrated, stomach growling as if hasn’t eaten in days, feeling your soft hand brush through his ginger hair as you stared at him innocently yet almost seducing. The tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. And with the growing urge to just give in to the temptation, Ian leaned forward without a second thought, capturing your lips in a kiss.

You made a noise of surprise that immediately caused Ian to pull away, a panicked look in his eyes, scared he might’ve ruined the most precious friendship he’s ever had. Series of apology slipped past his lips, but you shut him up by putting a finger up to his lips.

“Don’t apologize, I’m not mad, silly.” You reassured, though concern plastered your face. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah,” His response was nearly quick. “Why do you think I agreed to a sleepover?”

That angelic smile of yours returned again, chuckling. “Okay then, Gallagher. Do whatever you want.” You said before kissing him again, letting the rest of the day continue.

Again, it was convenient that you’re a switch, because even though Ian has tried bottoming before, he preferred topping, especially with you or Mickey. Well, you and Mickey now. Those sleeping around days were a lot... wild, to say the least.

You never slept with anyone besides Ian and Mickey, always uninterested in other guys and turning them down nicely quite often, which Mandy — your bestfriend — noticed.

Questionable, of course, because there was one incident at the Alibi where she, Lip, and Fiona were present and you and Ian came out the bathroom covered in hickeys, not even bothering to hide them as the two of you sat down with them. However, when a guy noticed and realized what happened, they attempted to shoot their shot with you, miserably failing as you turned it down without further acknowledgement while Ian just shrugged, as if he already knew that was going to be your answer. Then, Mickey suddenly barged in only to tell you a short “not tired yet, are ya?” while walking to the bathroom, and you smiled at Ian before following Mickey.

It happened quite a lot in different circumstances that even the Gallaghers caught up on how Ian and Mickey are the only ones you let getting in your pants.

It was a messy and complicated time where everyone had to deal with their own shit; Mickey with his homophobic upbringing and sexual crisis, Ian with his confusion in feeling something for both you and Mickey at the same time and doubts to himself, you with accepting your romantic attraction to both of them, keeping it locked in, and fulfilling the desire to be with them by sleeping with them. It’s either they slept with each other, you slept with either of them, or the three of you slept together, all bonded somehow. Ian and Mickey were the first ones to get their shit together and officially became partners, and well... it honestly didn’t turn out good back then due to you still dealing with your own shit that nobody ever noticed. That story could be for another day, though.

The point is, your friendship used to be wholesome, but the extent of it increased more when you three settled after all that shitshow. There were some toxicity at first, especially with Mickey struggling to overcome the genuinely awful upbringing he had — he was dating a guy after all, and not just one but two — along with Ian’s diagnosis of bipolar disorder. But having each other and not giving up on each other made the toxicity disappear and morph into something positive, each of you going through some relationship development together.

Compared to back then, the three of you had grown overly comfortable with each other and the polyamorous relationship you had, not feeling discomfort when people look at you weirdly. Coming to terms with the issues truly helped.

However, neither Ian nor Mickey had come to terms with your kindness towards people who didn’t deserve it, and they absolutely have no plans of coming to terms with it at all. People can be a lot rude and asshole when you’re nice to them, which is why they simultaneously keep themselves and each other from strangling the person’s neck everytime it treated or spoke to you horribly.

Well, frankly, nobody would understand and you don’t expect them to. Too bad they’re going to have to sooner than later, because you’ve been feeling a little irritable — it’s only a matter of time before the truth cracks through the surface of friendliness and nice personality you’ve plastered on.

Once it does, people will be fucked.

You know who you are when you’re not nice; it’s never a pretty sight. It’s a bloodbath.

Everything seemed perfect.

Dinner’s pretty cheap, but not unbearable. One of the nicest things about you is that you don’t care for the price as long as it’s edible and tasty. You’re not the one to fuss over the cheapness or expensiveness of anything and the Gallaghers loved that, because you wouldn’t talk shit of how they can’t afford shit. Birthdays are special occasion where people usually ask for expensive gifts, but the Gallaghers were always reminded by you not to go grand on celebrations or presents, because you didn’t like them spending their money on something other than theirselves.

They still went with it though, going to a cheap local bar where they serve cheap dinner so everyone could celebrate the birth date of you, who was born special in southside Chicago with kindness that’s seemingly a curse.

The night went by smoothly, everyone enjoying their time and having fun — You, Ian, Mickey, Mandy, Sandy, Lip, Fiona, Liam, Debbie, Franny, Veronica, Kev, and even Frank who was by the bar because his family disapproved of him joining. He still did, considering you’re the nicest kid he’s ever met.

Perfect. Everything was perfect. Too perfect that it’s becoming strange, how well this night is going.

You were absolutely correct to feel like that.

Mickey’s blood was boiling at the man that had suddenly approached the table with a friendly smile only to go around spitting whatever the fuck he wanted to talk about, mainly nasty things. But according to him, he knew you and you knew him, well enough, even though they didn’t know him despite being your boyfriends. The Gallaghers were collectively surprised of his sudden appearance, considering none of them knew him, but concerns littered their faces when the man mentioned you.

“I honestly don’t know what (Y/n)’s thinking, hanging out with Gallaghers and dating one,” The man, who ( unwantedly ) introduced himself as Caius snickered.

Ian, despite his annoyance increasing at Caius’ presence, tried to remain calm. “What’s it to you? And fyi, he’s also dating him, so don’t fucking talk like that.” He pointed at Mickey, who glared daggers at the man.

“Fuck, he’s dating two guys?” Caius laughed mockingly. “And a Milkovich at that. But aren’t you, like, bipolar though? With the gene.” His mention of the diagnosis made Mickey furious as he slammed his hands against the table and attempted to stand up, only to be held back by Ian. Everyone had their blood boiling now, but forced themselves to keep calm since it’s your birthday. Nobody wanted to ruin it for you.

“I guess crazy psychopaths are his type, huh? With how the screws in his head are fucking loose, I’m not surprised.” He snarled, looking at both of them. However, his words cuts through the boiling rage within Ian and Mickey as they both processed his words, furrowing their brows in confusion at the mention of the screws in your head being loose.

Before anyone could utter a single word, the loud sound of wine bottle smashing against the back of Caius’ head erupts throughout the entire bar as he dropped to the floor cursing loudly, revealing you holding the remaining end of the shattered bottle. The nice look on your face no longer visible as it contorted into an emotionless expression, eyes holding utmost coldness with some unknown darkness within them that sent chills up everyone’s spine.

You merely acknowledged Caius groaning in pain on the floor, throwing away the shattered piece of the wine bottle to the side as you nonchalantly patted off your hands of any invisible dirt.

“Oh my fucking god,” Fiona was the first to react, terrified as she witnessed Caius touch the back of his head and get a blood on his palm. The other Gallaghers were already standing a feet away as they all jumped up and away from the table when you smashed a bottle on the man’s head, completely shocked and stunned, Lip and Carl letting out holy fuck.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

“What the fuck did you just do?”

Ian and Mickey exclaimed in sync, with Ian looking at you while Mickey at Caius, both eyes wide and shock on their faces.

You shrugged, the usual smile completely nonexistent. “Smashed a bottle on an old friend’s head after talking shit about my boyfriends.” The slightest hint of apathy in your tone worried them a bit, but you quickly shifted your cold gaze to Caius. “Quit fucking moaning, Caius. You already saw it coming when you decided to approach them while I was gone for the bathroom.”

“Fuck,” Caius groaned, laying on his back to shoot you a glare. “I just got fucking discharged from the hospital you put me in, shithead. A little nice sympathy maybe? The one you fucking show people.”

“Certainly didn’t need sympathy when you brought up Ian’s bipolar disorder,” You smiled sarcastically. “And don’t be fucking dramatic, it was just few broken bones.”

“You made me fucking bleed internally and you wanna call that just a few broken bones?” Caius snapped. Everyone’s eyes widened.

Rolling your eyes, you folded the sleeves up of your button up while clenching and unclenching your fist, something that Ian and Mickey didn’t miss. “Serves you right for planning to shoot Micky Milkovich. Unfortunately for you, I genuinely and utterly loathe someone describing either of them as crazy psychopaths, especially since Ian’s been diagnosed bipolar, so...”

You grinned sadistically.

“Consider today your finally meet God and be sent to Hell day.”

Everyone watched as you rub your face while talking to the cops about what happened inside the bar, the back of your hand all bloody and knuckles busted, probably tainted in both Caius’ and your own blood. It was scary to see you so violent and, as Caius said, have screws in the head loose. The unlikeliness and the way you acted and looked so different from how you usually were terrified them.

Not Ian and Mickey, though. They were standing on both of your sides while the rest were a few feet behind, still attempting to calm down from the shock of witnessing your change in attitude and your true colors seeping through the cracks.

Your entire demeanor now was back to normal; not that cold and expressionless presence with terrifying apathy, but the warm, full of expression and accepting presence. You had quietly greeted the cops earlier with a small smile that turned into a frown of guilt, which somehow was enough for them not to handcuff you despite the damage you caused on Caius.

“I probably shouldn’t have done all of those to him,” You muttered thoughtfully while biting your lip. “I don’t think I regret it though. He crossed the line, I got pissed.”

“You normally don’t get pissed, Mr. (L/n).” One of the cops remarked.

Shrugging your shoulders, you gave them a small smile. “That’s just what you think of me. I don’t really care if people insult me or talk shit about me, but my boyfriends are one of the most significant people in my life, so they’re off-limits. I really can’t handle anyone talking shit about them.” Your soft tone falling down to a serious and firm one, you narrowed your eyes at the ambulance that contained Caius’ unconscious body.

“Are Mr. Milkovich and Mr. Gallagher basically your trigger?” The other cop wondered.

You nodded immediately, “Yeah. I think so.” Rubbing your nape with the uninjured hand nervously, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Shouldn’t you be handcuffing me? I definitely went too far, I blacked out in anger, and he’s unconscious with some injuries that are probably worse than what I think, so…” You slowly brought your hands together, ready to get arrested.

“Don’t worry, witnesses came forward and shared what happened. They confirmed Caius went too far with the disclosure of a person’s medical condition confidentiality.” One of the officers stated, gently bringing your hands down.

Your eyes snapped to the cops, “Wait, really?”

“Yes, they understood how off-limits your boyfriends are and immediately talked to us after we arrived.” The two cops smiled, seeing the look of relief on your face. “We’ll get going then, Mr. (L/n). You have nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you.” Sighing in relief, you gave them a look of gratitude as they began getting into their car before your blank face returned.

“You’re fucking one hell of an actor, (Y/n) (L/n).” Mickey remarked after seeing your face fall and glare threateningly at the ambulance as soon as the cops drove off.

“Hey,” Ian softly called to catch your attention, cupping your face. “Look at me. Look at us. Calm down, (Y/n). It’s fine, we’re fine, okay? You don’t have to be mad anymore.”

Mickey watched silently from the side with his arm around Ian’s waist and the other hand gently rubbing your arm to help bring comfort to you. Tense shoulders slowly softening and body relaxing, they witnessed the rage storm calm in your eyes as the hard gaze softened and you respond to their gesture by melting into their touch.

You sighed deeply, “Okay.”

Both of them couldn’t help but notice the empathy slipping back into your eyes and expression, brightening it up, making it seem more alive. Your eyes looked dead earlier when you were beating the life out of Caius until he was barely breathing, it honestly scared and freaked the fuck out of your boyfriends, even though they would probably never admit it. It was like seeing a soulless person because of the lack of empathy and all.

Though, seeing that happen definitely made them reconsider the thought that you grew up perfectly sane without bottled up issues in southside Chicago — They didn’t realize the bottled up issues was simply your kindness and nice atittude, the main things that literally allows you to get whatever you want from anyone because it’s the easiest way to manipulate others into giving you what you want, and they wouldn’t even realize the manipulation.

That’s your own shit to deal with; you force yourself to be nice and caring, so your apathy wouldn’t come up to the surface and destroy things. However, Ian and Mickey somehow knew none of the nice or caring side you showed to them were fake. Because if they were, would you even be in a relationship with them?

It would probably take a lot of time to figure you out, especially when you seem to like hiding behind the nicest person in southside Chicago mask and never let the surface crack to get even a peek inside, but they were willing to try. You’re their boyfriend after all.

“We’ll figure it out, (Y/n).” Mickey gently says. “We always fucking do. Right, Gallagher?” He smirked at Ian, who instantly nodded with an of course, before Mickey grabbed the back of his head and kissed his lips.

You smiled at them, genuinely.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

#hadesrise #gay #male reader #x male reader #imagines #fluff #shameless #shameless x reader #shameless x male reader #ian gallagher #ian gallagher x reader #ian gallagher x male reader #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich #polyamory #lgbtq #mickey milkovich #mickey milkovich x reader #mickey milkovich x male reader #ian x mickey #ian x reader #ian x male reader #mickey x ian #mickey x reader #mickey x male reader #shameless fanfiction #shameless fluff #mlm #male x male

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

#sebastian stan eras #sebastian stan movies #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan suit #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan behind the scenes #sebastian stan x you #sexy seabass #sebastian #sebastian stan pink #sebby stan #sebby baby #sebby #seb stan #bucky barnes #mickey henry #nick fowler #fresh #steve kemp #pam and tommy #tommy lee #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan bucky barnes #sebastian stan tommy lee #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Mav's Reaction to Each Dagger Dating His Daughter

Pairing(s): Daggers / Mitchell! Fem!Reader (Mav's Daughter)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Protective Mav Dad, Reader is Maverick's Daughter but no Description of Appearance or Biological Parentage; Can be treated as an OC; She's referred to as 'Baby Mitchell' occasionally; Third Person POV, No "You" or Y/N

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Maverick finds out that his daughter is dating someone that he knows when she invites her new partner to dinner. And so he makes it his mission to greet them at the door first.

A.N. Starts out with the same basic set up but then it splits. All seven main Daggers have their own separate story (about 250 words each), so read your favorite(s) or all seven!

Master List

Maverick never exactly looked forward to meeting his daughter’s partners.

Maybe it was because he was a little worried that he didn’t exactly give her a healthy example to follow. Maybe it was because he was just trying to compensate for all of the times that he wasn’t there for her when she was little. Maybe it was because he was just a smidge overprotective.

But either way, he never looked forward to meeting his daughter’s partner.

So, when she told him that she was inviting over her new partner for dinner, and mentioned that he already knew her partner, Maverick was given a new mission—to answer the door before her. He wanted to see if her partner could cut it on their own without his daughter coaching them through every step of this new dynamic.

And when the doorbell rung five minutes ahead of schedule, Maverick sprang into action.

“I got it!” he called up the stairs to his daughter.

“No, I’ll get it, Dad!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Maverick insisted, reaching for the front door.

Twisting the knob, Maverick flung the door open and paused when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door.

[Pick Your Dagger:]

Rooster

Rooster stood on the front steps of the Mitchell house, nervously shifting his weight around.

“Why did you ring the doorbell, Bradley? Just go through the side entrance,” Maverick instructed Rooster, completely missing the point of Rooster’s arrival. He held the door open and stepped aside. “But my daughter’s new partner is coming for dinner. You’re free to join us if you like, but it might be a little awkward.”

“Uh . . . yeah . . .” Rooster trailed off, really wishing that his girlfriend would get down the stairs already. “I was . . . going to stay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just set out another plate.”

Rooster stared after Maverick like he’d grown a third head as he walked off to reset the dinner table. Shaking his head, Rooster glanced up at the stairs as his girlfriend hurried down them, smiling at his appearance. Rooster shut the front door behind him and held out his arms as his girlfriend threw herself at him.

“Hey,” she giggled, pressing a loving kiss to his lips, “how’d you survive?”

“Well, he seems to think that you’re bringing someone else home,” Rooster explained sheepishly, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“You didn’t tell him that you were my boyfriend?”

“Well . . .”

Letting out a sigh, she grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him with her down the hall. Maverick was in the middle of setting down another plate when the young couple walked into the room. Maverick looked up and smiled at them. But he froze when he caught sight of their intertwined hands. Maverick straightened up and glanced erratically between Rooster and his daughter.

“You . . . you’re dating my daughter . . . Bradley?” Maverick asked his godson, who started to sweat a bit.

“Yes, we’re dating,” Baby Mitchell answered on Rooster’s behalf. “We have been for four months.”

“This is some kind of joke, right?” Maverick tried to laugh off, but Rooster and Baby Mitchell’s expressions did not change. “Right?”

“No, it’s not,” she replied calmly. “Rooster is my boyfriend. We’re dating. I invited him over for dinner. So, let’s have dinner.”

Baby Mitchell led the way over to the table and sat down in her seat. Maverick shot Rooster a look and in response Rooster simply shrugged his shoulders and followed after his girlfriend.

~~~~~

Hangman

Hangman offered Maverick a curt nod and his usual smile-smirk-combination.

“Hey, Mav—”

Maverick slammed the door shut and locked it, just to be sure. Shaking his head, Maverick glanced up at the stairs as his daughter hurried down them.

“Who was at the door?” she questioned, looking confused.

“Just . . . a delivery driver.”

“Where’s the package then?” Baby Mitchell demanded, frowning at him.

“Well, that’s the funny thing—”

The doorbell cut off Maverick’s lie and caused his daughter to shoot him an aggravated expression. Reaching around him, she unlocked the door and pulled it open to see Hangman still standing on the front steps of the Mitchell home.

“Really?” Baby Mitchell scoffed at her dad before letting her boyfriend inside.

“Oh, Hangman, I didn’t see you standing there,” Maverick lied poorly.

“Frankly, I was expecting worse,” Hangman told his girlfriend, who shook her head in response.

“Dad, Jake is my boyfriend and I invited him over,” Baby Mitchell began, trying to keep the aggravation out of her tone. “So, you can’t go around slamming doors in his face just because you don’t like the fact that we’re dating. Okay?”

“I . . .” Maverick trailed off when he caught his daughter’s annoyed expression. “Alright, alright.”

Baby Mitchell shook her head before turning for the dining room. She grabbed Hangman’s hand and pulled him along with. But, while her back was turned, Maverick shot him the ‘I’ve-got-my-eye-on-you’ gesture with his fingers. Hangman nodded in return, but Maverick didn’t miss the slightly nervous look that he wore.

~~~~~

Phoenix

Phoenix gave Maverick a sarcastic mock salute as the door swung open. Standing confidently on the front steps, Phoenix straightened up.

“Hey, Mav.”

“Hey, Phoenix,” he returned with a nod. He held the door open for Phoenix and she stepped inside. “So, you’re the one who gave my daughter a hickey two weeks ago?”

Phoenix blinked, clearly a bit caught of guard, before her usual confident demeanor returned. Phoenix nodded in response and didn’t let her nerves show.

“Yes. But, to be fair, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“I assumed,” Maverick replied, nodding along. After another moment of thought, he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Well, at least you can’t get her pregnant.”

“You’re not going to give me a shovel talk?” Phoenix asked Maverick, folding her hands over her chest.

“I like to give it at the end,” Maverick assured Phoenix while his daughter hurried down the stairs. “Let’s me personalize it a little better.”

“Hey, babe,” Baby Mitchell called, pulling Phoenix in for a quick peck. Turning to Maverick, Baby Mitchell shot him a look. “I hope that he wasn’t too overprotective.”

“No, he was fine,” Phoenix assured her girlfriend with a small smile. “Though we have a debriefing scheduled for after dinner.”

“Dad.”

“What? I would do the same if she was a man.”

The two girlfriends shared a look and Phoenix shrugged her shoulders in response. Baby Mitchell let out a groan and shook her head.

“Fine,” she muttered, grabbing Phoenix’s hand. “Well, come on. Let’s get you some dinner first before you’re interrogated.”

~~~~~

Bob

Bob offered Maverick his usual awkward smile. Maverick blinked once in surprise before he let out a humorous breath of relief.

“Bob, I’ve never been happier to see you,” Maverick chuckled, holding the door open for the WSO.

“Really?” Bob asked curiously, walking inside the house.

“Yeah, I was worried that she was bringing Hangman home,” Maverick replied with a light chuckle, closing the door. “But I’m glad to see that I was completely wrong.”  

“Thank you?” Bob returned quietly.

“Hey, babe,” Baby Mitchell called out to Bob as she walked down the stairs. “Glad to see that the dragon guarding the castle didn’t hurt you.” She hurried over and pulled Bob in for a quick kiss in greeting before turning to her dad. Leaning against her boyfriend, she smiled brightly as she glanced between them. “Should we sit down and start dinner then?”

“Yeah, I’ll start bringing stuff out from the kitchen,” Maverick agreed, walking off.

When Maverick’s back was turned, Bob reached out and grabbed Baby Mitchell’s ass playfully. She giggled and pressed a heated kiss to his lips that Bob eagerly returned. Reluctantly pulling away, she leaned towards his ear.

“We should go. Don’t want him to get suspicious,” she whispered to Bob.

“Alright. But . . . later?” he suggested, giving her ass another light pat.

“Absolutely,” she agreed with a wide smile.

~~~~~

Coyote

Coyote offered Maverick a small, nervous smile. Maverick paused for a moment before opening the door wider for him.

“So, you’re dating my daughter, Coyote?” he asked as Coyote stepped inside the house.

“Yes, sir,” Coyote returned politely.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Maverick replied, closing the door. “Yet, anyways.”

“Yet?” Coyote repeated, confused.

“I only make my daughter’s boyfriends call me ‘sir’ if I don’t like them,” Maverick explained quietly to Coyote, trying to prevent his daughter from overhearing. “And, frankly, as long as you don’t toss me out of my own home and onto my own lawn, I think that you’ll be okay.”

“I appreciate that, s—Mav,” Coyote corrected himself.

The sound of footsteps caused both aviators to look up. Baby Mitchell walked down the stairs with a bright smile when she spotted Coyote. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she pressed a quick peck to his lips before turning to her dad.

“Did you get the shovel talk out of the way, then?” she asked sarcastically, leaning against Coyote.

“Not yet,” Maverick replied before turning to Coyote. In a quieter voice, he added, “We’ll get to that after dinner.”

Baby Mitchell gently shoved her dad away from her boyfriend and shook her head.

“Honestly, I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Well, I like Coyote a lot more than the boy that you were seeing when you were sixteen,” Maverick conceded, causing his daughter to wince.

“Who was—” Coyote started to ask.

“—No one!” Baby Mitchell interjected.

~~~~~

Fanboy

Fanboy smiled nervously at Maverick as the door swung open. Maverick could tell that the WSO was nervous if the way that he fidgeted was any indication, but Fanboy was doing his best not to show it. Unfortunately for him, Maverick was very observant.

“Hey, Maverick,” Fanboy greeted him politely with a slow nod.

“Hey, Fanboy. Come on in,” Maverick replied, holding open the door for him. Fanboy stepped inside and Maverick shut the door behind him. “So, you’re the flyboy who’s dating my daughter?”

“Yeah, I am,” Fanboy agreed confidently, though with an edge of concern. He glanced up the stairs for his girlfriend before turning back to Maverick. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, not yet,” Maverick replied calmly, shaking his head. “And between you and me, backseaters tend to be more . . . stable than their pilot counterparts. So, that helps you as well.”

“Well, I don’t disagree with that,” Fanboy chuckled before his girlfriend started down the stairs.

“Hey, amor,” Baby Mitchell called down to her boyfriend.

She hurried the rest of the way down and greeted Fanboy with a quick peck to the lips. She grabbed his hand and turned back to her dad.

“Everything okay, Mr. Overprotective?” she asked Maverick.

“Wouldn’t he be Captain Overprotective?” Fanboy quipped, earning a groan from his girlfriend and a distinct ‘dad’ laugh from Maverick.

“I like him,” Maverick chuckled, pointing over at Fanboy. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

~~~~~

Payback

Payback nodded and smiled confidently at Maverick as the door opened. Maverick shot Payback a small smile in return and held the door open.

“Are there any bets on how tonight goes then?” Maverick asked as he let Payback inside the house.

“A few,” Payback agreed, nodding along. “Why? Did you want to place your own bet?”

“No, no, I try not gamble. But, out of curiosity, is there a way to make sure that Hangman doesn’t win . . . at all? And maybe Rooster a little bit too.”

“You can’t threaten to chase after me in a F-18, you can’t make a joke about the two hundred pushups, and . . .” Payback trailed off, trying to remember the rest of the bets. “You have to greet me like you would a son-in-law tomorrow on base. But that last one is only if you want Rooster to lose.”

“How much money?”

“Fifty bucks each.”

“Well, his mother taught him not to gamble, so Rooster should have paid more attention,” Maverick replied, clearly taking the bet.

“Hey, babe,” Baby Mitchell called down to Payback, walking down the stairs. She gave him a quick hug and peck before glancing between Payback and Maverick. “Everything going well so far?” 

“So far,” Maverick agreed with a nod and smile. “And by this time tomorrow, both Payback and I will be fifty bucks richer.”

“Good. Because that was the whole point of this dinner,” Baby Mitchell replied sarcastically. Grabbing Payback’s hand, she turned for the dining room. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

#top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #natasha phoenix trace x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #reuben payback fitch x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #reuben payback fitch #pete maverick mitchell #mitchell reader #tgm #tgm fanfiction #dagger squad

[sorchathered]

Happy Valentine’s Day babies!! 🥰😍😘

#top gun maverick #lewis pullman #bob floyd #jake seresin #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #glen powell #danny ramirez

[maisie-rebloging-blog]

For TG3 they really need to hire all the tumblr fan fic girlies (gn) because they are SO SMART AMAZING AND CREATIVE

They are the only ones I trust to bring TG3 to life

#top gun maverick #glen powell #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #coyote #greg tarzan davis #hangman #tgm #tarzan davis #tom cruise #top gun 3 #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun 1986 #bob floyd #lewis pullman #phoenix #natasha trace #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy danboy #danny ramirez #miles teller #bradley rooster bradshaw

[sunkendreams]

twenty minutes.

➾ pairing ; mickey altieri x fem!reader.

in which mickey sneaks into your dorm room and things become more heated than usual.

format: drabble — not requested.

word count: 2.5K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), risk of getting caught, slight corruption kink, fingering (f!receiving), making out, biting, dry humping, dirty talk, mild degradation (use of slut), choking, obsessive behavior from Mickey, begging, teasing, finger sucking, very slight edging, ambiguous ending

author’s note: I wrote this because I love Mickey and I want to write a part 2 with phone sex 💀 also, first time ever writing for him, so hopefully it’s good and people enjoy it! I am also working on requests, but I’m also on-call for work, so I get pretty busy. Hoping to have a lot of stuff finished & posted next week! thank you all for your love & support !!! :)

Mickey Altieri reminded you of a cat — elusive, cunning, and prone to climbing trees without much of a hindrance. The thick, sturdy oak that hovered by your window in the Delta Zeta House provided a place for your boyfriend to scuttle about, thumping a palm against the glass pane of your window.

He had a look in his eyes when you caught sight of him — devious and full of desire, glazed over with a sheen of mischief. It’s coupled with that pearlescent grin as you clamor toward your window, swiftly unlatching it as you glance over your shoulder. Your roommate is in the shower, a worthwhile time for him to come crawling in.

His timing is always impeccable.

This nightly ritual of him sneaking into your room is always accompanied with a giddiness and thrill. His dark tresses are disheveled, sporting a dark sweater that clings to his musculature. He climbs through with a silent grace, reaching for you before you can open your mouth.

“I’m doing all of the work here,” Mickey smirks, pressing a string of kisses along your jaw. “When are you going to climb through my window?” He questioned, tone playful as could be as his hands roughly pressed into your hips.

You and Mickey were still in this honeymoon stage of your relationship, where everything was glowing and bright, with sparks always flying in every direction. He oozes charm and charisma with every breath, and it never fails to pull you right in. He was becoming your addiction — your vice.

Sandalwood and bergamot cling to him as he sighs, hunching in over you as his mouth nips at your jugular. It elicits a low, simpering whine from you, serving as encouragement as Mickey turns that playful nip into a brief, rough bite. You taste saccharine underneath his tongue.

“I can’t climb a tree,” You protest, fingers curling into the front of his woolen sweater. “You have twenty minutes.” You huff, knowing that your roommate won’t be in the shower forever. It’s always the same heated routine — kissing until your lips are swollen, his hands grabbing your breasts, he leaves a hickey, and then he disappears.

Mickey groans into your sweet flesh, teeth idly grazing over your neck. “I want more than twenty minutes,” He uttered, peering down at your choice of wardrobe. It’s a ditzy nightgown that reminds him of summertime, speckled in hundreds of little flowers. He pinches the fabric between his fingers. “It’s not enough.”

“Kiss me, Mickey.” You mumble, a soft gasp tearing past your parted lips when he delivered a rather passionate kiss, open-mouthed with a desperate bout of tongue. He tugs at your nightgown, calloused fingertips tracing across the bare flesh of your thigh.

He was a dutiful boyfriend — eccentric and charming, a natural flirt with an obscene amount of wit. You adored that about him, but above all, you loved how much he spoke about you to other people. Mickey had this thing about staking his claim, and you weren’t about to tell him otherwise.

You can’t see it now, but there is a darkness festering inside of him. It’s always just at the forefront of his lascivious gaze, as if it might lash out and strike you. Mickey’s obsession with you transcended any normalcy, perceived as erratic and strange, but thankfully, you are none the wiser to his impulsive tendencies.

He loves your oblivious nature — it’s easier to control you that way.

Goosebumps form along the column of your spine, prickling along your body as his fingers slip underneath your nightgown, trailing along the waistband of your panties. He’s always teased you, but something feels different this time — it’s electrifying and exhilarating as he pets at your soft skin.

As your lips part, you stare at him incredulously, attempting to decipher his next move. “We can’t,” You protest, though it’s weak and lacking any sincerity. Your roommate, whilst prone to taking endless showers, won’t stay put forever. “Mickey.” You whisper.

“Why not?” He purred, teeth nicking your neck, which caused you to let out a soft gasp. Mickey’s lips soothed the bite with passionate kisses, tongue swirling over the newly-formed mark. “You going to stop me?” His lips curl into a faint smirk.

His laughter is delicious, alluring and full of a teasing mockery, one that causes goosebumps to coalesce along your spine. Mickey keeps it hushed, but you won’t be heard, not over the buzz of Duran Duran from your roommate’s radio.

His digits slip beneath the waistband of your panties as he hurriedly parts your legs, rucking your nightgown up towards your hips. “Maybe,” You squeak, voice barely above a hushed whisper. Mickey’s spindly digits playfully trace over your cunt, declining to touch your clit. “M—Mickey!”

You sputter, clinging to him like a drowning woman, grabbing fistfuls of his sweater as he swipes his fingers along your wet cunt. He’s devilishly enticing, and if you closed your eyes, you could envision his forked tail and silver tongue that continued to seduce you time and time again.

“This says otherwise,” Mickey’s tone has a playful edge of mockery to it as he kisses your jaw, unable to withhold the salacious expression that creeps onto his features. He revels in the way you whimper, hips jolting forward into his hand in an attempt to relieve even a lick of friction. “Want me to stop?”

He’s cruel.

Your pitiful, desperate expression screams for him to continue as you shake your head back and forth a hundred times over. “No, no!” You whisper, moaning when his thumb lightly traced over your clit. “Jesus, please don’t stop!” Your volume becomes heightened, and at that, Mickey decides to conceal it.

Mickey chuckles — it’s a dark and dangerous sound, but that’s why he has you so hooked to begin with. That aura of dominance emerges so quickly, and you’re enthralled, powerless to stop him. “You need to be quiet.” He cautioned, feeling you grab his wrist as you encourage him to keep going.

He does, much to your delight, fingers deftly tracing along your slit, drinking in the softness and wet warmth, thumb drawing circles around that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing at all, yearning for the sensation of his practiced digits.

A hapless whine leaves your lips when Mickey begins to test your limits, two fingers nudging at your entrance. It’s sluggish and teasing as he deliberates, gaze roving over your countenance. “You think about me when you touch yourself?” He questioned, mouth ghosting over yours as he pressed a string of kisses there, and then to your jaw.

Embarrassment rippled through you at the crass question, prompting your boyfriend to stop pleasuring you. Any sensations ceased, and made you moan in protest. “H—Hey,” You whimpered. “Mickey, baby, please don’t stop.” You groaned, feeling his hand lightly clasp around your throat.

“Answer me, and maybe I’ll keep going.” He chuckled, head cocked to one side. His muscled form loomed over you, casting a shadow across your body, moonlight swallowed whole. Mickey appeared predatorial and hungry in this light — ravenous for you.

“Y—Yes, I do, I — I think about you.” You mumbled, and to your relief, his thumb returned to your clit with a feather-light pressure. You rucked your hips forward with desperation, chasing after his hand. You were flustered to no end, burying your face into his chest, which he promptly stepped away from.

“Jesus,” Mickey sighed, drinking in your smitten expression. “You look so pretty like this.” At that, he sank forward, digits nudging their way inside of your cunt. Tightness followed, consumed by liquid heat as he began to piston his fingers in and out of your slit.

Another wave of goosebumps coalesced along your flesh, making you tense with excitement as Mickey gripped your throat with his other hand. Fingers squeezed underneath your jaw, applying pressure as he bit at your lip, surprisingly rough, hard enough to draw blood.

A startled gasp tore past your mouth, accompanied by a keening moan as Mickey found a rather vigorous rhythm. His practiced digits pumped in and out of your tight cunt, coated in your slick as this thumb brushed over your clit. Your body reacted in a violent fashion, desperately clamoring forward, friction electrifying.

The shower was still running, and you were awash with pleasure, cunt clenching around his fingers as he withdrew another moan from you. Mickey loved feeling your throat bob and tighten underneath his grasp, tracing the pad of his thumb above your pulse point. It was racing — beating at the speed of sound.

Molten heat pooled within the pit of your stomach as Mickey callously lapped at the blood coalescing along your lower lip, noticing the sheen of surprise within your eyes. “Doesn’t bother me,” He uttered, kissing you again with a force that made your head spin. “Tastes like you.”

Jesus — if it weren’t for your roommate, you would’ve been screaming. Your entire being ached for him in every way imaginable, hands grasping at his sweater. Mickey turned you around, pressing your knees into your mattress as he deftly felt his way around your body.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you.” Mickey snarled, brazenly biting at the dip between your neck and shoulder, having tugged your nightgown into all sorts of directions. His erection was prevalent, grinding against the curve of your ass as he pistoned his fingers in and out of you. “Would you let me?”

It all felt so quick, just heat and carnality, desire that had all rolled into an amalgamation of want. You hadn’t gone all the way yet — part of you wanted to save it for a time where your roommate wasn’t a few feet away.

“M—Mickey,” You whimpered, hips rolling and jolting into his hand, palms grasping at his bicep and forearm, something to steady you. “Please, please don’t stop!” Everything felt so feverish, as if you were trapped in some thick haze, unable to break free.

Mickey huffed, countenance etched with a playful disdain as he nibbled along the shell of your ear. “Would you let me fuck you right here?” He asked again, more pointed and aggressive this time, accompanied by a harsh flick against your clit.

Your head bobbed up and down over and over again in a series of indiscernible babbles and nods. “Yes! Y—Yes, Mickey,” You might’ve said it over and over again, back arching as he began to curl his digits into you, right into a spot that made your bones turn to dust. “M’close!” A desperate whine left you.

His cajoling laughter made the hairs along the back of your neck stand up, thighs rubbing together. “Course you would,” Mickey murmured, kissing at your neck, attempting to give you another hickey, something that he succeeded in. “You’re my little slut.” The sudden degradation made you bristle.

Admittedly, you shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as you did, squirming and writhing against him as he toyed with your clit. You moaned, fingers clamping down into his arm so hard that you were afraid of leaving bruises. Mickey didn’t slow or stop, continuing that same, brutal pace as he brought you to your climax.

His hot, labored breathing fanned across your neck and shoulder, causing you to shiver as he grinded himself against you. The rough denim made contact with your haunch, content to rut against the curve of your ass. Mickey knew you were close, and with another steady barrage of digits, you shuddered.

You were drowning in a white-hot ecstasy, reduced to a sticky, whimpering mess at the hands of your boyfriend, whose grin was etched into the back of your neck like a brand. Mickey let you ride it out, spasming and mewling, hoping to let it simmer before your roommate finished her shower.

Mickey caressed circles into your clit, feeling your knees wobble, thighs quivering as you trembled like a leaf, rocking back against him. He was akin to the cat who’d caught the canary, pearlescent teeth glittering through the dim light as he slowly removed his fingers from your weeping cunt.

“Mickey,” You sighed, feeling him nudge you, coaxing you to turn around as he sat you down against your mattress. There was something vulnerable and exhilarating about it all as he loomed over you, head cocking to one side. “That was amazing.”

He smirked — a haughty, salacious smirk that made your insides turn to mush, heat pooling between your legs once more. “I’m not done just yet, sweetheart.” Mickey crooned, reaching forward to squeeze on either side or your jaw. “Open for me.”

An innocuous confusion fluttered across your features, and he drank it in — you were so innocent, so pious that Mickey fed from it. He watched in silent rapture as you opened your mouth, and again, his smarmy, playful grin was prevalent as he placed his digits upon the flat of your tongue.

A swarm of saliva began to pool within your mouth, a whimper erupting from the depths of your throat. You knew what Mickey wanted, and you elected to obey, able to taste the remnants of your orgasm.

Shyly, you began to suck on his fingers, watching the way his countenance blossomed to life with an insidious desire. “Good,” Mickey purred, placing his other hand against the back of your head, cradling your skull as he urged you closer. “Should’ve brought my camera.”

That comment alone forced you to press your thighs together, and your boyfriend, ever the watchful and observant creature, took notice. Through the dim light of your bedroom, he was as coy and cajoling as the Cheshire Cat, slipping his fingers down your tongue.

“Would you like that?” His voice contorted into something else — malefic and low. You barely noticed the lack of static noise as your roommate turned the shower off. “Should I film us together next time? Might make for an interesting movie.” Mickey uttered.

A familiar heat thrummed against your ribcage, slipping through the cracks as it rippled across your body. You suddenly realized that your roommate had finished her shower, and Mickey hadn’t moved a muscle — he knew. A whimper threatened to break free from your chest, hands tight and fisted within your lap.

When footsteps began to inch closer, Mickey took his fingers out of your mouth, replacing them with his lips as he kissed you. You exhaled, sharp and excitable, reaching for his chest again. It was hot and crackling with tension, even still. His erection pressed against your inner thigh.

“Next time, I’ll sneak over.” You murmured, feeling his lips curl into a grin as he pressed a string of kisses against your neck. As Mickey began to slink away, you grabbed his arm, staring at him with doe-like eyes. “We’ll have more than twenty minutes next time.”

Mickey smirked, beginning to climb out of your window and back onto the boughs of the oak. “I’m counting on it.” He chimed, and began to scale the tree back down and into the darkness. You watched him go, chest tight with the sensation of yearning.

Unbeknownst to you, Mickey intended on making a phone call tonight — and you were set to be the star.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #mickey altieri x reader #mickey altieri x you #ghostface x reader #scream fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #scream #scream 2 #mickey altieri #ghostface fanfic #ghostface

[sickness-health-all-that-shit]

When Lip brings home an advanced android in order to test it for the company he works for, Ian doesn't know what to make of him. MIK-940810, or Mickey, seems virtually indistinguishable from a human being, throwing Ian for a loop as he feels an undeniable connection to the android. Their relationship deepens when Ian finds out about something that Mickey has been keeping from Lip and the people who built him. --- There’s a faint blue light shining from the place where Lip’s thumb rests for about two seconds. Ian’s expecting some kind of whirring noise, like when you turn a computer on, but there’s just silence. And then suddenly the blue eyes come alive.

here's my fic for the Shameless Big Bang round 12!! 💖

huge thanks to @whaticameherefor for organising this event and keeping it going, to @too-schoolforcool for the precious beta work and encouragement and to the amazingly talented @cal-tastrophe for this spectacular art!!! 🤩🥰 so excited to finally share this story with everyone <33

#ian x mickey #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fic #gallavich fanart #shameless fanfiction #shameless big bang #my fics #ian and mickey

[ohtobeleah]

Continental Breakfast // Mickey Garcia

Summary: When the Daggers disperse back to their respective states and postings—Mickey Garcia goes home to the wife, the best friend and the significant other that is to this day, the greatest continental breakfast around.

Warnings: Pure Fluff & Smut. Minors DNE. Mickey Fanboy Garcia x F!wife reader. Female Receiving Oral. Mickey simp Garcia. Early trimester pregnancy.

Word Count: 4.1k

Author Note: Plot who? This is just Mr Simp Garcia reuniting with reader wife after the Dagger Mission. This also proves I’m capable of doing good things. I’m not just my angst. And shout out to @mandylove1000 because this is all the fluff you’re getting

The sun had barely risen over the horizon, the thought had yet to cross its mind as the clock beside your bed ticked over in the silence of the early morning darkness. 

Your bed had never felt warmer, more inviting, more comfortable or more peaceful than it did in the moment as a gentle morning breeze crept in and carried the long burlap drapes that stretched the length of your window with it. 

In the quiet of your bedroom that had yet to be blessed with the light of day you sank a little deeper into the mattress with a hum that resembled something of a purr. Your lips curled up into your cheeks as you felt yourself being drawn into a warmth that rivalled Venus itself. Mickey Garcia ran hot like a furnace, his skin radiated a heat that made you tremble but brought you solace all at once, his very aura drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were unable to break the trance his smile cast on you or the spell his laugh had you under. 

“S’early —“ Strong arms drew you into Mickey's chest as he pressed himself up against the swell of your ass. The satin nighty that adorned your curves had been the only thing separating your skin from your husband’s. “Go back to sleep.” You exhaled a drawn out sigh that earned you a few butterfly-like kisses to your shoulder as you sunk deeper and closer into your husband's warm embrace. “You Government owned men with your ridiculous internal alarm clock’s piss me off.” 

Mickey chuckled as he trailed a gently hand across your stomach—with intent behind his movements, he slowly crept down your satin clad stomach up to your hip and stopped to play with the slightly frayed hem that kept your body wrapped up like a present sitting pretty and poised under the tree on Christmas morning. All for him. You were his wife, Mrs Mickey Fanboy Garcia. His best friend, the love of his life, his better half and significant other. You were Mickey's internal present that kept on giving, no matter how many times he unwrapped your layers, you would still make him feel like that giddy high school teenager who got to see your boobs for the first time in the art supply closet. 

“Six weeks away from you made me a crazed man amor.” There was a morning husk so prominent in your husband's voice as he peppered your supple skin with delicate kisses you couldn’t resist. With heavy eyelids and a whimper that resembled something meekly pathetic you rolled onto your back as Mickey carefully hovered over you. The same strong arms that once held you close in the early morning light that had begun to creep into your bedroom now trapped you entirely beneath him, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. “Im starved—“

“Good thing breakfast in bed is always an option then Lieutenant.” You couldn’t miss the way the corner of Mickey's lips pinned to go cheeks as he leaned in and over to kiss the junction of your neck. Coaxing whimpers and soft moans from you as your legs spread wider and wider at the mere thought of your husband's next move. 

“I missed you so much.” Mickey had come home just after eight pm. His entire body ached as he sunk into the warmth of the bath you had run him full of epsom salt and rose bud bubble bath. If you hadn’t been sitting behind him stroking his length lazily beneath the water whispering sweet nothings in his ear— Mickey was sure he would have fallen asleep and drowned in the moment. He felt like he’d been on his toes for six weeks straight. The minute he was dismissed from Mirimars special detachment he was heading home to you in Seattle, where his guiding light lived. Where his heart always felt fullest. “Missed you so much it felt like a lifetime had passed.” 

“You’re home now.” You reached out to cup your husband's cheek as he kissed the pad of your thumb that trailed across his bottom lip. Deep brown eyes stared down at you with a hunger so prominent it made you throb. “You’re safe baby, at ease.” 

Mickey had been so tired after your bath late last night that the minute his head hit the soft, almost otherworldly pillow, he was out like a light. His body had given in and thrown in the towel. You’d expected nothing less as you crawled in beside him. Knowing that by the lines that had become a permanent fixture upon his face that he’d been through a lot. That he’d given his all and he’d done his very best. 

He was your TopGun. 

“You look so pretty underneath me right now it’s insane.” Mickey had dreamt about you every night he was away and fantasised about how you tasted whenever he was alone. His fist could never amount to the pleasure you brought him. Like two puzzle pieces from the same puzzle you and Mickey Garcia shared an unconditional love that was as unambiguous as Payback's cynical eyes had ever seen. “Bet you taste so sweet at this hour.” 

As Mickey's words dripped from his lips he sunk a hand between your legs, with no panties stopping him—he traced a delicate finger between your folds and watched from above as your breathing hitched in your throat. He collected your arousal from your core and soon enough you craved his touch immediately in minute he pulled away. 

“Mick—“ 

“How do you taste Amor?” It was a question that made you question your own intelligence as your husband watched you part your lips so you could kiss the tip of his finger. You could taste your arousal on his digit as you took him in further, sucking on the nimble digit like you would suck on his throbbing length. “Sweet enough for me?” 

You did nothing but hum in response as you moved your hips against your husbands, the feeling of his raging erection pressing against the cotton of his boxer briefs made you quiver underneath him. 

“Good thing I was in the mood for something sickly sweet this morning huh?” 

“Well are you going to do something Miguel?” You asked through battered eyelashes and a taunting tone as you reached between the pair of you to softly palm your husband’s hard on. You could feel the wet patch that had formed in the cotton of his boxers as he rocked his hips into your touch and dropped his forehead to yours. “Or are you just all talk?” 

“I wonder if that attitude of yours will still be there after I’m done with you.” All Mickey Garcia ever wanted was to be king in your story. All he ever wanted was to l know who you are, he wanted your heart to be for him and only him. Mickey wanted you to sing to him softly in the afternoon sun of summer evenings so he could run in the dark. Your love was internal and pure, conjured only for him and designed specifically for him. 

“Guess you’ll find out won’t you?” You tilted your chin to take Mickey's lips hostage with your own as you hummed at the taste of him. Mickey swiped his tongue across your bottom lip as he begged for more, grinding his clothed cock against your dripping core. Your legs could not have been any more open if they tried. “Fuck—“ 

“I’ve got you.” Mickey mumbled into your mouth as he began to trail kisses that felt like sparks against your skin down your neck and collarbone. “I’ve got you Amor, I’m home.” As Mickey met the satin of your nighty he pressed his face against your stomach and mumbled against the fabric, his strong inviting hands held your hips in place against the mattress. “Avert your gaze, little one.” 

You were barely even showing, but it had been a welcomed surprise just four days before Mickey was being called back to TopGun. It made the mission all the more difficult, he wanted to be a part of it—but there was no option not to come home to you. To your growing unborn child. 

“You’re such an idiot—“ You laughed softly as Mickey sank lower and lower as he sent you a look so full of love it was hard to hold a grudge of any kind against the man who loved you so tenderly. But Mickey knew that time was going to take him, he knew that day was going to come. He just wanted the devil to hate him enough before he did so. He wanted to love you in all the ways he could while he had a chance to. 

“But you love me for it, don’t you mama.” 

With gentle but firm hands, Mickey spread your knees wide as he sank to his chest between your glistening core. He was spellbound—entranced by the way your beauty captivated every part of him. There was a part of Mickey that wondered if he’d ever stop feeling like the giddy schoolboy who lost his virginity with you in the tent the two of you had shared one night during spring break in the backyard of your parents' old place. 

“So pretty Amor, so gorgeous—“ Mickey whispered in the warm morning light as it crept across your room. The sun had started to rise just as Mickey peppered your inner thigh with marks that would linger for days on end. “How’d I ever get so lucky?” 

“Patience was always your strongest virtue.” You whined. “But it’s never been mine Miguel.” You reminded your love drunk husband as he sent you a smile that could have ended world wars and started them all at once. “Please do something—“ 

“All you had to say was please, Amor.” Mickey loved it when you’d say his government name, besides his Abuela you were the only person on planet earth that could get away with it. He was Mickey to all, Fanyboy to most and Miguel to you and only you. “Smell so fucking sweet.” 

“Oh god—“ You trailed your fingers through Mickey's dark curls as he licked a stripe up your core to collect all your nectar. His dark lustful eyes never left yours as he swallowed all you could give him. “Yess—“ Heavenly praises fell from your mouth as Mickey enjoyed his continental breakfast, a taste of you and only you he’d never get tired of devouring. His jaw would ache before he ever gave up being between your legs—he’d happily die eating you out. You’d be his last meal if he was ever sent to death row. “Oh god I missed this.” 

“I can guarantee I missed it more.” Mickey mumbled against your core as he sucked against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he watched through hooded eyes as you let your head rest against the pillow and arched your back, sighing in pure pleasure and relief as he worked you over just the way he knew you liked. “That’s its Amor give into me, missed you so fucking much.” 

It never took you long to let go of all that was worrying you, all that plagued your mind, all that stressed you out on a day to day basis, when you were with Mickey. His energy gave you life and his presence protected you from harm. 

“Such a pretty little pussy.” Mickey moaned as he pulled away to spit against your core, he took one single digit and swirled the newly added moisture around before he pressed inside you, coaxing his finger up against your velvet walls. “I know you like that Amor, let me hear you.” 

You had a special power over Mickey Garcia. Everything he held dear resided in your eyes. You were the only one he ever loved, the only one forever on his mind. 

“Yesss—baby, like that right there, right there.” You were giving in, giving yourself over completely to Mickey who lapped away at your core and curled his digit tenderly into your velvet walls. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way you arched your back—the way your hands came up to squeeze at your breasts over the silk of your nighty. “Baby—“

“Such a sight.” Mickey snickered against your dripping core as he added another nimble digit to your entrance, revelling in the way you stretched around him, oh so tight. “Love your beautiful pussy mama—fuck you taste so sweet.” 

For six weeks Mickey fell asleep to the thought of being between your legs again, thinking of the life he would soon have with you and your unborn child. He was so excited to be a dad—he couldn’t wait. But the news was kept under wraps, he kept those cards close to his chest. Neither of you had told your parents, your extended families, your friends or co-workers. The news that you were expecting was just news that the two of you wanted to bask in together for a little while longer. 

“Ohhh yes—!” Your grip tightened in the curls that fell without rhyme or reason on top of Mickey's head as he ate you like you were going out of style. His eyes were on you as his nose pressed against your pubic bone and his fingers filled you perfectly. “Mickey, fuck feels so good!” You squirmed against the mattress under the immense pleasure Mickey's mouth brought you as he gave all his attention to your clit. Those sensitive nurse endings that bundled up to create a pleasure pit, all for him to tantalise and tease. “God I’m getting close, so close baby.” 

“Are you Amor?” Mickey teased as he pumped his fingers inside you as he pulled his mouth away from your core. “Is that so?” Mickey Garcia knew how to take his sweet sweet time with you. He knew how to stop and smell the roses, he knew how to enjoy the journey and not just the destination.

“Don’t stop, god please don’t fucking stop Mick—“ 

“Guess I’m just gonna have to slow things down, take my time and make you unravel bit by pleasurable bit.” He teased as his fingers came to a mere agonising halt inside you. “We don’t wanna rush this, do we Amor?”

It was invigorating, pure ecstasy invaded your bloodstream as your husband came up to press his lips against yours from where he’d been perched between your legs. Hovering above you as he kissed you oh so deeply and with enough love to knock the wind from your lungs as you tasted your sweet sweet self on his tongue. 

“I love you so much.” Mickey mumbled as he trailed his lips down your neck and worked a single palm over the strap of your nighty. His raging hard on pressed against your core as he bucked his hips to reveal just an ounce of the pressure. This moment wasn’t about him though, it was all about you. “Missed you so much, thought about you every second of every day.” 

“If you really loved me you’d make me cum—“ You teased through a whine of your own as Mickey’s palm fell against your exposed breasts. He pinched softly at the hardened bud of your nipple as he finished trailing languid kisses up and down your neck. 

“Is that so?” Mickey asked with a raised eyebrow as he watched you pop your chest further towards him as he played with your nipple. “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” He teased as you exposed your other breasts—your nighty now fell around your midsection almost completely forgotten as your husband saw yet another opportunity to drive you insane. “Patience really wasn’t your virtue huh Amor?” It felt otherworldly as Mickey wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked a kind of pressure that had your core ignited into flames. Like a hive mind your body ached for him. He couldn’t touch you everywhere all at one like you craved for him. 

“Mickey—!” He could hear the desperation in your voice. “Need you, need you so bad.” Mickey could easily blame your desire on the pregnancy hormones that were ravaging your body and brain, but he’d be doing a disservice to the teenage version of himself that sat in geography class pining over the girl who alway sat beside him if he did so.

All Mickey ever wanted in life was you. 

“Guess you could twist my arm.” Mickey rolled his eyes as he popped your nipple from his mouth and trailed those same languid and soft kisses down your stomach, settling where he belonged, between your thighs. “What do you say?” 

“Please—“ With so much need faced in the lines on your face and in the irises or your eyes, how could Mickey say no. So he said nothing at all as he went back to giving you exactly what you wanted. His mouth on your pussy, lapping away at your nectar that leaked like a faucet that hadn’t been properly turned off. “Oh god yess—that’s it Miguel, that’s it baby eat my fucking pussy.” 

It was truly an honour to devour you like this, to witness you unravel and let go of yourself. Mickey in all honesty could do this all day—but listening to your pleasure filled moans echo off the sunkissed walls as warmth slowly began to fill the bedroom that had once been shrouded in darkness was too tempting to not give in and give you what you wanted. What you needed from him. That orgasm you deserved and craved.  

Mickey held your knees apart when you tried to close your legs around his head. He lapped away at your core like it would be his last act on ear as you felt that all too familiar feeling start to bubble under the surface. 

“Oh yesss! Please Mickey, please make me cum.” The way you asked with such need had Mickey sucking your clit and curling his digits so perfectly the way he knew you liked with such passion and such fire in his actions, that he had you seeing stars. For a split second you forgot how to breath when he looked up at you with dark eyes that told you he wasn’t anywhere near finished with you, that this was just the beginning of a day full of intimacy after six agonising weeks apart. “Yes! Yes! Ahhhh fuck!” 

“Cum for me Amor—“ Mickey coaxed you closer to your high, he could tell by the way you tensed and jolted at his touch, how you reacted when he pumped his fingers inside your dripping core as he lapped at your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cum on my face baby, don’t hold back on me.” 

How could you ever hold back when your husband was between your thighs, eating you out like he was a starved man in search of nutrition that would sustain him for days on end. You couldn’t focus on anything else but the feeling he brought you, the ever looming orgasm that was about to wash over your entire body like a tsunami—threatening to take you victim yet again as you trembled and quivered and jolted under his touch, his expert tongue. 

“Oh fuck!” You balled your fists into the white linen that lined your mattress as the coil finally wound up just enough to have you tittering on the edge of satisfaction. “Oh fuck Mickey, baby—yesss! Ahhh I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—“ 

It was heavenly after six stressful weeks worrying about your husband. Sure you’d given yourself an orgasm here and there. A few times a week if you could be arsed to do so. But nothing could compare to the orgasm that Mickey Garcia could bring you—nothing compared to the love he had for you that showed in every touch, every moment, every mere second he spent attending to your needs. 

“Ohhhhh Mickey fuckkk—“ As you arched your back and rode out the blissful sensation that overcame you entirely, Mickey watched through dark lustful eyes. He couldn’t not. You clenched around his digits hard and trembled against his tongue as your pussy fluttered and thanked him for his service. 

“You’re a vision.” Was all Mickey had to say as he watched you ride out and come down from the highest peak of your orgasm. “You’re so beautiful.” Mickey would spend the rest of his life reminding you how beautiful you were inside and out. He told you every day. 

“Holy shit I feel like a whole new woman.” You sighed as you relaxed into the mattress, Mickey wasted no time as he mounted you once more, trapping you between strong arms and exposed chest. “Feel like I should return the favour.” You cooed as he kissed you once more with the taste of your orgasm on his tongue. It drove you manic– completely insane as you reached between the two of you to pull back the elastic of his boxer briefs. 

“I'd never say no–” Mickey mumbled into your mouth as you slowly but surely worked your palm over his hardened length. He was rock hard, straining against the fabric of his briefs as he bucked his hips into your hand to aid you in the process. “Fuck–” 

“I think it's my turn to enjoy my breakfast don't you think baby?” You teased as you pressed the pad of your thumb against Mickey's swollen tip. He oozed pre cum at the thought of your mouth on his cock. Warm and ever so inviting, made for him and only for him. “Switch with me?” 

“Yes ma’am.” It never took much to get Mickey where you wanted him. He was after all just a mere mortal man with needs and desires. With ease you were pushing him down onto his back, straddling his waist as your hands roamed up the valley of his chest. The tufted of barely there chest hair drove you crazy– Mickey knew it too. “I'm all yours Amor.” 

“I know.” You replied with confidence riddled in your early morning smile as you rocked your hips back and forth slowly a top your husband. “You've always been mine, always will be too.” You drove Mickey insane as you pinned his arms above his head and kissed his neck harshly, just enough to leave a few marks in your wake. “Gonna make you feel real good.” 

“I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that.” It made you feel powerful, that you had such a hold on your husband, the father of your unborn child, your best friend. “God Amor, if you keep grinding on me like you are, I swear to you, I'm gonna cum.” It had been so long since Mickey had felt your gentle touch, your loving hold. Six weeks away from you felt like a lifetime and then some. “Not gonna last long at all.” 

“S’okay, we’ve got all day.” You teased as you slowly but surely slipped Mickey's length, his erect and throbbing cock inside you, the plan had been to suck him off but this was just too perfect. Watching him wither away underneath you as you took him in inch by inch. “Cum inside me baby, I know you want to.” Mickey had to grit his teeth and clench his jaw to keep himself from busting then and there. He was a goner. “Feels so good.” You sat up as Mickey's hand flew to your hips, helping to guide you up and down his slicked cock with intent to milk him dry. “Fuck–” 

“Ohhh ahh fuck, baby, baby, holy shit I’m gonna cum–” To absolutely no surprise Mickey was stilling you as he sat up and wrapped you in his arms. He came so hard it damn near hurt as you rocked your hips in his lap as he spilled inside you. Recreating the same moment that had surely gotten you pregnant in the first place not ten weeks ago. “Fuck fuck fuck oh my god–”

Your bed had never felt warmer, more inviting, more comfortable or more peaceful than it did in the moment as you fell into a heap of twisted limbs with your husband, completely spent. 

“For the record Amor, you have always been and will continue to be, my favourite breakfast.” Mickey sighed as he kissed your cheek and held you close to his chest. He missed this, missed you, missed the way you raked your fingernails up his chest and down his side–leaving goosebumps in your wake. 

“Consider it continental Miguel.” You replied softly as you thought about the day ahead–spent wrapped in the sheet of your bed with your husband. “It's the most important meal of the day.”

**************************************

#mickey garcia x reader #top gun mickey #mickey garcia fanfiction #mickey garcia fluff #mickey garcia x you #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia x female reader #mickey garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia fluff #fanboy imagine #fanboy garcia x reader #mickey garcia smut

[toxicanonymity]

EVERY INCH 3.

4.4k words, m!ghostface x f!reader

Every inch 🔪 Every inch 2

SUMMARY: Ghostface watches you and calls you. He gets bored, and one of your friends gets killed. You try to swear ghostface off, but he stalks you. You want revenge. A/N: THANK YOU for all the love. Masked Ghostface, inspired by canon gfs & night walks. HC who you want. Enough recap in the first paragraph to read as a one shot. WARNINGS: I8+ noncon p in v, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, choking, degradation, slut shaming, drugs, creampie, noncon breeding, phone sex, masturbation, knife play, a modicum of canon-typical plot/violence. Gf calls himself daddy. DEAD DOVE. NO USE OF Y/N. Starts in GHOSTFACE POV.

You aren't doing yourself any favors by thinking about him every time you get off. You should get on tinder. Go on another date. Get a boyfriend. But there's too much now. You've got a video of him whimpering with his cock out after you had your way with him, and a picture of him with cum all over his robe a minute later. And then there's the mirror pic he took in your bathroom. He's behind you, holding you naked in front of him.  There's a look of arousal on your face, and you must be so ashamed, but you keep coming back to look at it every night. . .and you're not the only one. 

Ghostface air dropped it to himself right after he took the pic. You should really be more careful with your settings. And your blinds, and your curtains. But you don't wanna be more careful, do you?  You've got everything the cops could need to put him away. You even had his DNA, and you kept it to yourself. Allll to yourself. And you’d like to have more of it, wouldn't you? It's fascinating, really, how bad you want his cock. 

You haven't heard from him in weeks, but he still comes by every once in a while.  He sees your neighbor check in on you, and you keep looking at the time on your apple watch until he leaves.  He sees you try on your slutty Halloween costumes– your backside looks best in that tight ass nurse dress, but god damn, your tits in that pleather.  What a pretty pussy you are. Meow.  He sees you get dressed for bed, and just in time. 

You check your phone and glance out your bedroom window before you take out your vibrator.  Ghostface takes out his cock and lifts his mask to spit on it. This is his season, you know. You must think about him all the time. Every time you see one of those phony Stab costumes. Every time you carve a pumpkin.  He lets you get a head start building to your climax. God damn, you want that cock, and you do an awful job hiding it when you see the call from a restricted number.  You look at your phone, biting your lip, and let it ring for a few seconds before you wet your lips and answer it. But you don't say anything.  Ohh, playin’ hard to get, are ya?

Ghostface admires the stiffness of his cock in his hand and strokes it while he watches you try not to speak first.  It's quite the game of chicken–at least a full minute of silence. He breathes heavier as he strokes himself, and then he hears the buzz of your toy. 

"Mmm, good kitty."

"What do you want?" Your breathing is heavy, too. 

"Wanna know how bad ya want this cock."

"Is your cock all you think about?"

He breathes a laugh. "That'd make two of us, wouldn't it?" 

You scoff, still touching yourself, teasing your clit with your vibrator.  

"Yeah that's it," he pants, and you arch your back. "Come for daddy."  You come so fast it's pitiful. 

You're easy. Too easy. He's getting bored. 

You're a bad, bad girl, and he wants to find out how bad. You know, he's never much cared for your "friend" Marla. He suspects you don't either, based on the way you tense at her hug in the bookstore.

—-----you-------

A DILF cop comes by your house. Must be new to the force since you've never seen him. You're used to them checking on you. The COP asks if he can come in, probably trying to be thorough,  you think.  But he asks you to take a seat, and he sits down next to you on your sofa.  When he has trouble meeting your eyes, your pulse quickens. 

He knows. He must know somehow. He knows you're a sick fuck who has phone sex with ghostface and gets off to his dick pics every night. Maybe he even knows you fucked him. He might even know you forced him. You're blanking on excuses if they find the photos in your phone. The cop leans forward and his biceps strain the short sleeves of his tan uniform.  He wrings his large, veiny hands as he turns his head to look at you.  Finally, his big brown eyes meet your gaze, and he tells you, "He's back. Got a crime scene down the block"

The relief lasts about ten seconds, and then you don't have to feign your horror. The blood rushes from your head to your pounding heart. You foolishly thought his killing days might be behind him. 

"Officer. . ." 

"Call me Javi."

"How do you know it's him, Javi?" You challenge him. 

"You really wanna know?" He raises his eyebrows at you. 

"It's him, sweetheart." He puts a big, warm hand on your upper back, then slides it up to squeeze your shoulder. "Got someone who can stay with ya?"

You take a few seconds to answer, then whisper, “yeah.” 

"Well, if not . . . " he sighs and leans way back on the sofa to reach into his uniform pants for his wallet. "Got a pen?" 

He writes his personal number on a business card and leaves it with you.  As you let him out the front door, sirens are wailing. 

Later, you see the crime scene online. Marla isn't just dead, she's stabbed, slit, and bled dry. The water runs red in the fountain you pass every day on the way out of your neighborhood.  A needed reminder of the sicko you’re dealing with. 

Over the next few days, you delete the ghostface photos and the video. You get a call from a restricted number and don’t answer it. You get a text from an unsaved number: don’t tell me you thought I changed. 

You delete it. When you’re leaving the neighborhood one day, you spot Javi in an unmarked car. When you get to your destination, you text him “why are you following me?” 

Like a boomer, he calls you instead of texting back.  You don’t answer. Then he replies, “Why don’t you have company? You shouldn’t be alone.” 

You send back, “If I have company, will you leave me alone?”

“I can give you some space, sure. But I have a job to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keeping you safe.”

—--

You’re not going to let ghostface control your life. You don’t know what would happen if you ran into him now, and you try not to think about it, although you do find yourself going into the trash folder on your phone to look at what you deleted. You make plans to go out with friends. It’s the first weekend of October, and there’s a huge Halloween festival. You put on your nurse costume.

An hour before your friends arrive, your doorbell rings. You look at your app and it’s Javi. Well, this is awkward, you think as you finish pulling up your black, thigh-high fishnets. You answer the door and let Javi in, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his arms stretch his sleeves. You decline to sit down. 

“Look, if you’re gonna go out, you should carry this,” he says, then looks you up and down and his gaze lingers on your cleavage. You clear your throat. He swallows and gives a subtle smile like yeah so what?  “Gonna wear a purse?” he asks. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You roll your eyes. 

You reluctantly change into the cat costume and wear a bat purse. You go out with your friends and everyone gets way too drunk. Your friend Sam gets in an altercation after a frat party, and your other friends have to restrain her and walk her home. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with it. You insist you’ll be fine since you’re armed.  You decide to walk a couple blocks before you order your ride home so you can wait somewhere with more people around. 

—--ghostface—-

You filthy little slut. Are you enjoying yourself? Ignoring him, playing hard to get, acting like you’re not flattered, then teasing him, prancing around Woodsboro looking like a handjob costs $20. Walking alone through an alley – you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you? 

Ghostface knows where you’re headed. He’s seen you take this route before, so he gets ahead of you and waits.  He’s vaping in the shadows behind a fire escape in the alley. When he hears the click of your slutty boots, he hits send: a dark alley? lmao. He hears the ding on your phone and the click of your heels slows down right before you reach the fire escape.  no point running, he sends. Then he brings the vape pen under his mask and sucks in a mouth full of smoke, and your phone illuminates your face and your eyes widen.

—--you—--

The alley smells like weed. You’re reading the texts when ghostace appears from behind the fire escape, coming at you with his robe flowing behind him.  He only has one glove on. His gloved hand grabs your throat and he pins you to the wall. You choke and gasp for air. He tilts his mask and a small amount of smoke billows out of the dark mesh at the top of his long, black mouth. He eases up on your throat only to move his hand to your jaw and tighten his grip, squeezing your cheeks to keep your mouth open as the smoke billows thicker and closer. His mask is only an inch from your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe in, and as he releases the smoke into your mouth, your clit throbs.  You've got butterflies in your chest, being close to him again. You cough. 

"Good girl," he says as he relaxes his grip on your jaw.  Then his knee nudges your purse out of the way and wedges your thighs open. 

“Bet ya miss me more than Marla, don’t ya?”

If only he wasn’t right. There’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach just being close to him. But Javi will probably be here any minute, and you need to put up a fight so they won't be onto you. You abruptly knee ghostface in the groin. He grunts and falls backward only slightly. 

"Bad kitty." He takes you by the throat again as you try to fight back. “Bad, bad girl.” He hasn't brandished his knife, but you know he has it. You can't get your gun out quickly enough. You look at your phone and it flies out of your hand as Ghostface grabs your wrist. 

He lets go of you and picks your phone up off the ground, then walks away, robe trailing behind him as he disappears into the night.  

You try to follow him, but he loses you. The audacity–he shotguns you, gets you all riled up, takes your phone, and leaves you, just assuming you won’t do anything about it. Assuming you’ll chase him. You think about the fountain scene. You think about him leaving you. Rage eclipses your desire. If you see him, you might actually shoot him.  Now all you have is your metro card to get home, and luckily you’re close enough to the train station.  

–-

Scattered groups of drunk college students stumble around, bicker, and laugh. 

The train doors are open and you jog to make it in time, just barely squeezing in before the door closes behind you.  The car is full, but not packed. A Freddy Kruger makes room for you, and you stand with your hand braced on the pole. You get a message on your apple watch, meaning ghostface must be in bluetooth distance. 

always wanted to see you on the pole. 

You look behind you, and there he is, sitting at the back of the car.  You should run, but you’re gonna get your phone back at the very least. There’s too much damage he could do with what’s on it.  As the passengers finish unloading, you discreetly open your purse and put your hand on your gun, then set your sights on ghostface, who’s manspreading and sitting back.  The only other company in the back of the train car is a Michael Myers who looks to be passed out drunk. 

You take out the gun and turn the safety off as you approach ghostface in your slutty cat costume. He pulls back his head and cowers in an exaggerated oh, i’m scared move. He stays quiet, for once. 

“My phone,” you tell him. 

He looks around, pretending like he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

“Now,” you order and put your finger on the trigger. He takes a phone out of his pocket, but it’s not yours. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you,” you ask. The train jolts and you’re propelled onto him.  You brace yourself with your free hand on his strong shoulder, and when you feel his hard muscle, butterflies swarm to your core. If he isn’t going to offer up your phone, you’ll have to find it yourself.  You press the muzzle of the gun into his neck, through the fabric of his mask. He freezes. You reach under his robe and pat him down, finding nothing in the front pockets of his jeans. You should check his back pockets, but first you grab his crotch while you’re at it and laugh when he’s semi-hard. 

“Cock’s the only thing you’re good for, and this is what you’ve got for me?” His mask tilts down, watching you grope him.  You savor the feeling of control. “Worthless,” you spit.  Desire bubbles between your thighs as you feel him harden in your grip. Fuck it, you’re gonna take him one last time. You don’t want the last memory of all this to be him dominating you in your bathroom. You wanna go out on top. You fumble with his button and zipper with your free hand, then command, “Take it out.” 

He tilts his mask at you, then looks behind you as though seeing who’s around. 

“No one’s looking,” you mutter. “Stop fucking around.” You hold the gun to his neck and he urgently takes his hard cock out. You reach down for it. It’s thick and warm in your hand. “Don’t feel half as big as ya look on camera,” you tell him. “Pretty sad.” You spit in your hand and reach for his cock again. “So desperate for my attention,” you mock him. “You’ll do anything, wont ya?”

This is fine, you tell yourself, You’ll tell the cops he forced you, and then you’ll even have his DNA, and they can catch him, and this can all be over. . .after one last ride. 

You put your knees on the seat on either side of him.  You hover over his cock and use your free hand to run the head through your dripping folds, then you sink onto him and bottom out with ease. His cock twitches against your walls, and a shiver races down your spine. Your nipples harden, visible even through your pleather top.  The sheer arousal pisses you off.  He feels too good. A man like this doesn't deserve to be so good at dicking you down, without even trying. Without doing anything.  You move up and down him, and he does exactly nothing. He knows it gets you off. You hate how full he makes you feel. You resent the incomparable pleasure that will linger in your mind, in your whole body, for days. Maybe forever. 

He moans soft enough that the voice changer doesn't pick it up. You wince at the sound of his humanity. 

Something comes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell him as you bring yourself down on his cock again. . “I don't wanna hear your voice." You raise yourself up. "I don’t wanna know who you are." You roll your hips into him.  "I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about you at all," you bite, fucking yourself on his cock, dripping wetter and wetter.  You keep degrading him as you fuck him.  "You’re nothing to me." In your lower belly, a climax is building.  "You’re a faceless cock. Always have been.” He sits motionless as you ride him harder. Maybe it was the weed, but you can’t get enough.

When the train reaches the next stop, you tug down your dress as much as you can and sit still on his cock. You hide the gun between your bodies.

Your watch dings with a notification–an unsaved number. 

how's the 🍆

A shadow eclipses you from behind, and you hear the snap of a picture. Your face goes ice cold. 

"Oh you're a reeeeeal bad girl, aren't ya?" The real ghostface says behind you. All the hair on your body stands up, and your heart pounds as you look at the costume in front of you. The lack of gloves, the quality of fabric, the jeans under it. The cock of a stranger twitches inside you and the gun shakes in your hand. "What the fuck," you mutter. You start to get off the man, but the real ghostface slams you back down on him. 

"Oh don't stop now, kitty. " 

He holds you down on the man's cock. "Lovin’ this Halloween special. sure he is, too. Ain't ya, buddy?" 

"What the hell’s goin' on," the man mutters in a regular voice.

You’re about to berate the man for deceiving you. "You let me,"  then you feel the heavy weight of the gun in your hand and stop short, shame rushing into every blood vessel of your body. 

"Better finish what ya started," the real Ghostface says. "A happy customer won't snitch, right brother?"

When you don't move, Ghostface says, "god damnit," then squats down and wraps his arm around you. "Do I have to do everything?" He lifts you up a little, so the man's cock almost falls out, then drops you back down. He lifts you up and down the man's hard cock, and it's horrifically erotic having Ghostface fuck you on another man's dick. The real Ghostface cock is hard against your back. 

Ghostface adjusts his grip and grabs a tit as he forces you up and down.  The man’s Stab mask tilts down, watching his cock disappear into you again and again. Your lips part, and a moan slips out. 

"Oh, you filthy, filthy girl," Ghostface chides. 

"Shut up," you snap as Ghostface sheaths the man’s cock with you again. 

"Gonna cum for him, pumpkin? Milk his cock?"  

No, God no, this random guy can't cum inside you. Your body stiffens and you shake your head no.

"Oh, c'mon, kitty." 

"No," you whimper.

Ghostface sighs in exasperation and one of his arms leaves your torso for a moment. Then he points his knife at the man you're riding. "Ten seconds." 

Ghostface holds the knife to your throat as he keeps manhandling you on the guy's cock, counting down, "ten," he lifts and lowers you, "nine," stuffing you with the man's cock, "eight,"  and he's only at "seven," when the man flattens his back and arms against the subway seats and shudders as he lifts his hips into you. Ghostface forces you down, and you cry, "no," drowned out by the man's groan as he cums.  You moan at his pulsations. It's sick, disgustingly hot, getting pumped full of this stranger's cum on a subway car with Ghostface holding a knife to your throat. Your spine arches and you begin to convulse, milking the stranger’s cock just like Ghostface told you to. 

"Hellll yeahhh." Ghostface gropes your tit. His cock twitches against your back. He addresses the stranger, "She's hot for a serial rapist, right?" as he lets your weight fully down onto the man. He lets you push yourself off the man, and ghostface holds you by your neck so you won't run.  As the man's cock flops sloppily onto his open jeans, Ghostface tells him, "now get the fuck outta here." The man in the ghostface mask is still zipping up his pants when Ghostface adds, "this one needs a real big cock." Then Ghostface asks you, "don't ya, pumpkin?" And takes the man's seat. 

The train comes to a stop and as the man scurries out of the subway car, he warns other riders not to board the car. He’s removing his mask as the train pulls away, but you don’t get to see him.  Ghostface takes the man's seat and hikes up his robe, revealing his pj pants.  He takes his cock out and manhandles you onto his lap.  You hover. You're not about to hop on his dick, but let’s face it, you’re not gonna put up a fight, either. You're tired. You're confused. You're horny as hell. There must be something in that weed. 

Out the window, everyone is staring as the train slowly pulls away. 

Ghostface hikes your dress all the way up and stares between your legs with the stranger's cum seeping out of you.  

"Look at this mess," he catches the cum with the flat of the knife, cool against your folds. He slowly drags the knife toward himself, then angles it up toward your mound. Then he takes the knife off you.  He wraps his hand around your ass and the handle of the knife rests against your skin.  “Now sit on daddy’s cock.” 

He lifts you onto his cock. He hesitates with his tip notched at your entrance, and you twitch with need. Then he pulls you down, and his thick cock stretches you – a pleasant, easy stretch – as you sink onto him. He's bigger than the cock you just had. 

"What's my favorite movie?" He asks, then begins to move you on his cock. He holds you still. You're dying for friction. "Strangers on a train," he answers for you, and you ignore him.   "Hitchcock's overrated,” Ghostface says. “Now I've got my *own*.” Great, he took a video, too.  This is bad for you, really bad, but all you can think about is the big, hard cock inside you.  He's still not moving, and neither are you.  Your clit is throbbing. You begin to rock your hips as the train slows down . 

Ghostface slaps your ass with his bare hand. "Made for the screen, baby." His hips begin to move under you, finally. You close your eyes, feeling his thick shaft pump in and out of you, sliding with ease through the other man's cum. "Sure can take a cock."  He feels so fucking good.  Why did he have to kill again? Why can't he just fuck you? God his cock feels good. "Bet ya coulda taken us both," ghostface says and his cock twitches inside you. "Ohh, fuck." The train stops. He puts down his knife and takes the gun from you. "Yeah, this hole could take two, no problem." His crude words are making you throb more. You feel people watching from the train window, and your face is hot, but you can't get enough of this cock. "Maybe that's what this filthy cunt needs. Two cocks." Your walls twitch around him. "Ooohhh, like the sound'a that, don't ya?"  You feel an orgasm building in your gut. "Hell yeah, dirty girl."  

The train leaves the station again. “Maybe next time I’ll bring a friend.” he brings the gun to your face. He prods your cheek with the muzzle. Then nudges your lips open and you groan in protest. 

"Give it a kiss, pumpkin'"  You pull your head back and turn your cheek. Your heart is beating out of your chest. Your vision is blurry. Your body is dizzy with pleasure and adrenaline. Ghostface gives up on putting the gun in your mouth. He drags the cool metal down your face, around your neck, to your back, then keeps dragging it down. Then he slouches down in the seat and adjusts your angle on top of him, pulling you tighter against his chest. 

His massive, ungloved hand lifts your ass cheeks out of the way and spreads you wide. He brings you upward, letting most of his cock out, then you feel the cool metal at your dripping entrance. He wedges the cold muzzle of the gun into your pussy right alongside his cock. "Yeah, take it, kitty." 

You groan as he pulls you down on his cock and the gun. What has he done to you? Why is this so hot? "Yeah, knew ya could take two cocks." To your horror, you find your hips rocking. "Fuck yeah," he growls. The barrel of the gun is cool against the back wall of your cunt, and your hole is squeezing his cock tighter now. He wriggles the gun around in a circular motion against his cock. "Ohh yeah."  The train speeds up. "Hold on tight," he warns. He begins to manhandle you on his cock and the gun. You're on the edge. Your asshole tightens and tension swells in your core. 

"Fuck," you whisper. 

He feels it. "Yeah, that's right." You hold your breath. "Cum for me, pumpkin, or I'll make you into pie." Your climax overtakes you and you wince as you clench around the gun and his cock. 

"Goooood giirl," he says with your body jerking around his. "There's daddy's little slut." Wave after wave hits you and your cunt squeezes him and the gun.  He holds you tighter against him and lifts you enough to slide the gun out, leaving your exhausted cunt looser around him. “Yeah, plenty’a room for two.”  You're still having aftershocks. They're not fading, like another one could build. You reach for your clit. "Needy, needy cunt." You rub yourself and he rocks you on his cock until you cum again. 

"Hell yeah," he moans when you clench around him.  Then he erupts inside you with a groan. His cock pulses against your walls as his warm spend mixes with the other man's. "Yeahhh." His cum goes on and on. "Fuck, yeahh." 

As soon as he's finished coming, he pulls you off his lap. He tucks his cock back in his PJs. The train rolls to a stop. 

He pats your lower belly.  “Won’t know who's the father," he chides, "but at least ya know who's daddy."

—

-

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

Now that you know what happens, it's a solid re-read. Especially when reader is degrading him 😭 lmk your thoughts when you come back to reread too, it's not weird lol.

THANK YOU FOR READING. If you want another one, reblogs make all the difference!!! I appreciate comments, too. 🖤🖤🖤 but reblogs get other people to read it which helps a lot, no matter how small your blog. It also affects the algorithm. If engagement is good, that helps guarantee a next one. If it "flops" compared to the first two, that's discouraging.

if you liked this smut, check out raider Joel meanwhile.

Also BTW gasolinerainbowpuddles is responsible for giving me the kink of degradation about unknown paternity starting with the fic liquid gold which is amazing.

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #slasher smut #slasher fanfiction #cw noncon #tw noncon #night walks #ghostface #slasher fucker #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mickey altieri #dead dove #danny johnson x reader #love2cuck #ghostface!joel miller #ghostface ☠️

[palepinkgoat]

"You want to feel it again?" Art by @steorie for the fic Restoration by pink_ink

#look who wrote a fanfic #pink_ink #steorie #gallavichfanart #gallavich #shameless #ian x mickey #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanart

[gallavichfanficlibrary]

Shameless Big Bang Round 12 Posting Schedule

Hi everyone! @whaticameherefor here. I've taken over running the latest round of the @shamelessbigbang but unfortunately I don't have access to the blog. So, I'm posting the schedule here. Please reblog and spread the word and get ready for the Big Bang!

2/16 - Waste My Time by @flamingbluepanda with art by @michellemisfit

2/17 - Never Been Knotted by @real-tentacool and @batty4steddie with art by @gallavichonly

2/18 - House of Horrors by @mickeyheartian with art by @mikcrymilkovich

2/19 - A Mother’s Love: A Magical Secret by @sweetbee78 with art by @artbyaleksandr

2/20 - Broken Things by @sickness-health-all-that-shit / with art by @cal-tastrophe

2/21 - Bridge of SIGHS by @notherenewjersey with art by @suzy-queued

2/22 - Where the gay weiners go by @spacerockwriting with art by @gallavichonly

2/23 - i’m not the way i was by @sam-loves-seb with art by @technotrousers

2/24 - Once Upon A Tire Iron by @arrowflier with art by @loftec

2/25 - Last Night at the Verona Grand Hotel by @the-rat-wins art by @deedala

2/26 - The Creamery by @ms-moonlight-inn with art by @filorux

2/27 - King of the Southside by @rayrayor with art by @filorux

2/28 - Wanderlust: Before the 90 Days by @aeliagioia with art by @loftec

#fandom event #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction #ian x mickey fics #shameless fanfic

[florrysgf]

NOT PART OF THE PLAN! stu macher x fem!reader

SUMMARY: in which you discover your boyfriend, stu is hiding a dark secret, which leads to you crumbling his and billy’s plan

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of drugging, manipulation, blood, murder, mentions of death, gunshots, stabbing, mentions of vomit

WORD COUNT: 1.9k +

You muttered a low “Fuck,” under your breath as you forced open your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy. You struggled as you lifted your head up from the pillow, it felt as though it weighed a ton. It took a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust to the bright light, and for you to realise where you were. The digital clock on the bedside table was the first thing to catch your eye. Shit, how much did you drink? It was past 1AM, and Stu was nowhere to be seen.

You internally scratched your brain for any recollection of the previous night. You remember drinking, a lot, which you presumed caused you to pass out in Stu’s bedroom. But what confused you the most was the fact that Stu wasn’t lying beside you. There was no way the party was still going on. There was a curfew in place, and you distinctly remember having to drag a girl out of the house by her hair because she was so drunk.

You forced yourself up out of the bed and trailed down the hall to Mr and Mrs Macher’s bedroom, where you hoped to find your boyfriend. Instead, when you opened the door, you were met with a rather stomach-churning sight. You let out a gasp, a peculiar feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. Blood. Everywhere. Up the walls, on the floor, splattered across the bed.

“Oh my god. No, no, no.” You repeated to yourself, immediately rushing to sprint down the staircase. If you ran any faster, you’d go flying.

Just as reached the bottom of the staircase, the scene infront of you stopped you in your tracks. Randy was lying unresponsive on the floor of the foyer, blood seeping out from his chest whilst a hysterical Sidney stood over him. By the door, you locked eyes with Billy, but this was not the same Billy you once knew. He stood smirking, scratching the side of his head with the barrel of Dewey’s gun. His white cotton shirt was soaked in blood, and the barbarous look in his eyes was haunting.

You felt sick to your stomach. Was it Billy all along? All this time, your best friend was the one you should’ve been scared of and you were blinded to it. “What the fuck is going on?” You croaked out.

“You know, Y/N. I always thought you were smarter than that.” Billy chuckled, referencing the gun in his hand, “C’mon. Put two and two together.”

You were trying to process too much at once, and it was beginning to get too much for you. The masked killer running around was right under your nose the entire time, and he just shot one of your best friends. Fuck! You trudged your way over to where Randy was lying. The carpet beneath him was quickly turning red with his blood, and his skin was growing more and more pale by the second.

“Is he dead?” Sidney asked between sobs.

You found his wrist, frantically searching for a pulse. You felt the tears prick in your eyes as you were unable to find one. Your emotions built up, a sudden wrath took hold of you, prompting you to pick up a vase that was placed on a table by the front door. You tipped the flowers out onto the floor and ran up behind Billy, smashing the ornament over his head. “You sick fucking bastard!” You cried.

The brunette boy screamed out, using his free hand to grasp hold of your ankle, dragging you down to the floor with him. You whined, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use.

Instead, you used your right leg to kick him the torso, causing the gun to fly from his hand. A small, yet determined smirk formed on your face as you extended your arm out the grab the weapon, at the hope of freeing yourself. You were so close. Just a few inches fur—

“Bitch.” The Loomis boy spat, stomping his foot on your wrist, stopping you from reaching the gun and causing you to yelp out in pain.

You were forced to put all of the pressure on your other arm as you forced yourself to stand up and attempt to tackle him again. You lunged forward at him, only for the loud ring of his shotgun to fill your ears. You audibly gasped as the bullet tore through your skin, deflecting off your right rib. It felt like your insides were burning out. As though it were a reflex, your hands cupped the bullet hole in your side, your vision blurring at the sight of blood pouring out.

Stu came running into the room at the sound of the gunshot. The beige sweater you once bought him was now red with blood, the cotton torn to shreds. You didn’t even notice the kitchen knife in his hand.

He watched your body collapse against the wall, his face dropping instantly as he turned to the brunette, who looked just as shocked as you did. “What the fuck, man?!” He spat.

Sidney rushed to your side, tearing off her denim jacket and holding it to your gunshot wound, trying her best to apply pressure to it and stop the bleeding. She’d already lost Randy and Tatum, she sure as hell wasn’t going to lose you too.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Your boyfriend shrieked, staring aimlessly at Billy, who simply cocked his head to the side. “We had an agreement, man! You promised me she wouldn’t get hurt!”

The Loomis boy simply shrugged his shoulders. “She got too cocky.” He supposed, “I told you if she got in the way, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.”

“You promised, you dick.” Stu whined, dropping the knife to the floor and kneeling down beside you. His hand reached for yours, only for you to slap it away.

“Don’t touch me!” You snapped, causing him to tense up. More tears began to fall down your already stained cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. How could he do this to you? You grabbed the jacket from Sidney’s fingers, pressing it harder to your torso with a wince as you tried to stand up, using the wall to help you.

Once you were up, you stumbled into the kitchen with a stiff Stu traipsing behind you. Sidney tried to follow, but Billy was quick to grab hold of her, pulling her to his chest and holding the gun to her head.

“It was you. It was you all along. It was all you.” You muttered, mostly to yourself, pacing up and down the kitchen. Even saying it out loud, you couldn’t comprehend it. You turned around, gawking at him through glossy eyes, silently begging for an explanation.

Stu frowned, attempting to get closer to you again, but you took a step back, gripping the counter with your fingers. “Y/N, please. You don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it?” You scoffed, tightening your grip on the marble counter as the pain in your stomach started to become unbearable. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to stand. “Then explain it to me, Stu! Explain to me why you killed all those people! Casey, Tatum, Himbry, Randy - why’d you do it?”

The tall, blonde boy was unable to look you in the eye. God, he felt so ashamed. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, this wasn’t the plan. “It was Billy.” He mumbled, causing the brunette on the other side of the room to roll his eyes. “It was all Billy’s idea, he made me do it. I swear it, Y/N, please. You have to believe me.”

Peer pressure? Was that his motive? Did he really expect you to believe that? You knew Stu was easily led, he always had been, but now it all made sense. The sick jokes, the slasher references. There had always been something about him and you were too stupid to notice it. Either that or he was too good at hiding it.

His fear grew bigger as you stayed silent. It made him feel uneasy, he didn’t know what you were thinking and that terrified him. He had to get you on his side. He had to make you believe him. “He promised to leave you out of it if I helped him. That’s why we put you upstairs, to protect you!”

“Oh my god…” you whimpered, tears falling from your eyes as the realisation washed over you like a wave. The beers. Holy shit, the beers. “You— you drugged me.” You whispered somewhat sternly.

Stu’s eyes, too glistened with tears. He shook his head, neither conforming nor denying your statement. “To protect you!” He repeated, defending himself, his voice dropping down to the usual soft tone you knew and loved.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You gawked at him, eyes wide.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt!” He whined, throwing his arms in the air, eyeing your gaping wound. “You weren’t supposed to get shot, that was not part of the plan. All I wanted was to keep you safe, that’s all I wanted! Fuck, if you had just stayed upstairs like you were suppo—”

You cut him off, almost laughing at what you’d just heard. “Are you saying this all my fault?!”

“Y/N, honey, I love you—”

“You’re psychotic.”

“It’s not my fault—”

“You’re a murderer!”

“I did it for you!”

You let out a groan, clutching your stomach with your arm. Your entire body ached, you were exhausted. “What do you expect me to do, Stu?” You sighed in defeat. “Drop everything and forgive you so we can run off into the sunset together? Act like none of this ever happened?”

Stu ran out of words. He couldn’t think of anything else to say to convince you to be on his side. He didn’t want to lose you, that was the last thing he wanted. You were all he had left. He could tell you were tired, tired of everything. You just wanted it all to stop. As harsh as it may sound, in that moment, you wished you never met him. The boy inched closer to you, holding his arms out. He just wanted to hug you, hold you in his arms and inhale your scent, without a care in the world.

You flinched as his fingertips brushed against your skin. You felt sick. In a panic, you reached out behind you, swiping a kitchen knife from the block on the counter, and holding it out infront of you.

Stu took a rapid step back, gawping at your shaking hand. “Baby, what are you doing?” He carefully asked.

“I said… don’t come… near me.” You whispered. Now Stu was scared. Not because of the knife in your hand, but because you were turning pale. You were sweating. Your entire body was trembling, relying completely on the counter behind you to stay upright.

“Y/N, baby, give me the knife.” The blonde pleaded, looking at you with begging eyes.

Suddenly your eyes felt incredibly heavy. You let out a gasp, your grip on the side loosening. The knife slipped out of your hand with a loud crash, and your body collapsed to the floor with it. “Shit! Shit!” The Macher boy cursed, kneeling down bedside you at an instant. He picked up your head, placing it on his lap. His stomach churned as you began to spit up blood.

Once he was preoccupied, searching frantically for something, anything, to stop the bleeding, using the little strength you had left, you reached for knife, grasping it and plunging it straight into his back. “Bastard.” You spluttered, dropping the knife to the floor, lying back down as your boyfriend face-planted the ground, the kitchen knife poking out of his back.

#scream 1996 #1990s #fanfiction #ghostface #fanfic #stu macher #stu macher smut #stu macher x reader #matthew lillard #scream fanfic #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #randy meeks #sidney prescott #matthew lillard x reader #skeet ulrich #scream vi #mickey altieri #scream angst #scream fluff

[thisdoodler]

Things from the most unhinged fanfic I’ve ever read (yes it was a yandere x y/n)

-The fic was yandere Disney characters x reader. All of the Disney characters were men.

-Mickey Mouse is characterized as a mafia boss.

-The fairy godfather, Peter Pan, and Adrian Agreste (yes that one) are canonically the same person.

-On that same note, the MC friendzones Adrian, and that is how we find out his name is Adrian Agreste.

-Cinderella’s Masc name is Ellard or Cinderellard.

-That one scene where The Evil King’s (Evil Queen’s) mirror turns into a human just to tell the evil king that if he wants to be immortal he needs to uh ✨do✨ the Mc. The mirror is then promptly turned back into a mirror. It never turns into a human again.

-During this scene the Evil King claims that sleeping with a woman before marriage is sinful so they need to get married. The MC promptly points out that bathing in the blood of beautiful women isn’t very holy either.

-I’m like 90% sure that Prince Charming and Ellard are in a relationship.

-Yes both of these characters are love interests. They search for the MC together and are never seen apart from each other after they meet.

-MC and Maleficant have an on and off relationship and in the sequel (because there’s a sequel) they adopt human!shapeshifter! Toothless as their son

-There’s one scene where Ariel crashes the MC’s and Snow White’s marriage, where all of the other yanderes are, and says he objects to the marriage because they are mates. He is then never seen again.

-You cannot convince me that this author does not have a degradation kink. I have read 2 other books of theirs. All of them have pretty much all of the love interests insulting the MC constantly.

Anyway, 10/10 Experience, I have never been more entertained in my life. I can, would, and will be doing this again.

I may or may not do posts about their other fics, this is just the longest and most unhinged one I’ve read from them. I will also probably be adding more to this list as this is all off the top of my head and there’s probably more.

Note: If you try to find the fic, please know that there’s a lot of slut shaming (even though the Mc never sleeps with anyone) and there’s an attempted SA in like the second chapter. The fic does not properly warn readers about this so if you want to read it, do so at your own risk.

#fanfiction #Disney #disney x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #Wattpad #because of course it’s from Wattpad #yandere disney #By the way #Mob boss Mickey is in cahoots with your dad #aka the male version of Alice from alive and wonderland #I’d also like to mention that shapeshifter toothless is an adult when you first meet him in the story #Maleficant just turns him into a child when he gets you back to the Disney dimension from the how to train your dragon dimension

[navybrat817]

How Far Down

Pairing: Mickey Henry x Female Reader Summary: Mickey is bad for you, but you just can't stay away. Word Count: Over 2.1k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, semi-public fingering, implied public sex, unhealthy relationship, codependency, bittersweet, spooky vibes, Mickey Henry (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #3 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! @tavners , thank you for suggesting Mickey and semi-public sex! I hope I did it justice. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Mickey edit by @rainbowkisses31 . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Mickey was like a drug to you. His touch sent dopamine through your body, the pleasurable sensation bringing you to new heights again and again. You needed more of him to satisfy your craving. He delivered every single time.

But being addicted to a man as free spirited as him was like trying to catch the wind in your hand. He slipped through your fingers quicker than sand. When the inevitable comedown happened, it left you disappointed with the harsh reality that he would never truly be yours. So you walked away.

Until he called you back to him.

"It's the Halloween bash. C'mon. We'll have fun."

You should’ve had the strength to ignore him or say “no”, but you were helpless to resist his call. You asked for the address when you messaged him back and hoped you didn’t sound too eager. One night wouldn’t hurt. You’d only stay long enough to make an appearance and you’d be on your way. Besides, it was a party and Mickey had a job to do.

He wouldn’t notice if you left early.

“Better not bail on me or you’ll hurt my feelings. And I’ll hunt you down.”

You wouldn’t dream of bailing on him. The thought of hurting his feelings produced a pain in your chest so great that you thought your heart would give out. That was one of the things that scared you about Mickey. You gave so much of yourself away and did you get enough in return?

It would be fun if he hunted me down.

The day leading up to the party was a blur, your stomach twisted in knots as you got ready. You had no reason to be nervous. It was a night of fun to be had and nothing more. As long as you didn’t let Mickey suck you back in, you’d be fine.

There was a line out the door of the club as you arrived and you wondered just how long people were waiting to get in. Mickey instructed you to give your name to the bouncer, which you did. For a second, you didn’t expect your name to be on the list. He could’ve done it as a prank to get back at you for walking away. It was a silly thought. He was many things, but he wasn’t cruel.

Still, you let out a sigh of relief as the bouncer let you go right in. If that wouldn’t have worked, you would’ve tried to flirt with him. Your slutty angel costume left little to the imagination, which was both sexy and ironic. You never felt angelic or innocent around Mickey, but it was fun to be in his presence.

The halo fell from my head a long time ago.

Orange and purple strobe lights flashed in time with the music, giving the club a perfect Halloween glow as the bodies moved along the dance floor. The array of costumes brought a smile to your face. Everyone was having fun, uncaring of what happened tonight. Problems would still be there tomorrow, so why not let loose?

“There you are.”

You heard Mickey over the music and blinked a few times, not remembering walking through the crowd to get to his booth. Your throat constricted as the two of you locked eyes. While you were some form of an angel, he had demon horns and an open red shirt. The light around him accentuated his muscles and gave him an ominous glow as he walked around the table, grinning as held out a hand for you.

It only took you a second to take it.

“Knew you couldn’t resist my invitation,” he said, jumping down to join you on the floor instead of pulling you up to the booth. “Though a small part of me wants to punish you for staying away for so long. Why did you run away from me?”

Part of the charm of Mickey was that he didn’t come across as arrogant. Playful, the life of the party, and someone who encouraged you to make the best out of bad situations, but never full of himself. You admired that. He was also unreliable, too spontaneous. A distorted dream of a man that you could never have.

“You know why I left,” you reminded him, putting your arms around his shoulders. “But we could both use some fun, so why not take you up on your offer?”

“And that’s just what I am, aren’t I? A good time,” Mickey smiled, slipping an arm around your waist to drag you against him. “Everyone’s having a good time tonight.”

Even if you didn't leave at the end of the night with Mickey, you knew it wouldn't be a boring evening. Watching him in his element was hotter than you cared to admit, the gorgeous man making everyone get lost in the music and atmosphere. It was like he encouraged people to lose their inhibitions. No one cared about the consequences.

They lived like there was no tomorrow.

The flashing lights reflected off his blue eyes as you gazed at him, but they almost looked black. “We can’t have too much fun,” you teased as he began to grind his hips against yours.

“Why not?”

You sighed and wondered if he was trying to goad you or if he really didn't get it. “Because we both know how this’ll end and I'm a little tired of it.”

Mickey would happily go on his way while you were left with a void in your soul. The worst part was you were certain he didn’t do it on purpose. The bond between the two of you wasn’t pure enough to be love, so why would you expect him to treat you like you were his other half?

“Why does it have to end at all? C'mon. You and I always have fun together,” he argued, grabbing your chin with a firm hand so he could lick you from your chin to your forehead. “Besides. Your aura is so delicious. I've missed it.”

A lustful sigh left your lungs before you attempted to step back. The smile on his face looked strange. “My aura? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mickey threw his head back as he laughed, his chest shaking as his fingers dug into your hip. He sometimes struck you as a man more intelligent and deeper than he let on, but always swayed you from those thoughts with a slip of his tongue or the slide of his cock. He was lust in human form. But he led you down a path with no end.

So why did you follow him?

“You know what I mean. Your whole glow screams lust. And lust is a sin that feeds itself and grows,” he said as he pushed your costume up your thigh. It didn’t matter that there were others close by where anyone could see. And you didn’t put up a fight. It wouldn't be the first time you fooled around with people mere feet away. That was part of the fun. “But I don't need to feed myself with you around. You feed me plenty.”

At that moment, you almost wondered if Mickey’s costume was real as he hooked a finger in your panties and moved them aside. He could easily lure people in under the guise of a good time. Lost in his hypnotic gaze, you moaned as his finger circled your hole. “It's like you really are a demon,” you breathed as one finger pushed inside you, making you clamp around him.

His teeth flashed in a wicked smile as the digit moved in shallow thrusts. “Demons come in all forms. All shapes and sizes,” he said as you frowned. He had to be kidding. “This city is my playground with plenty of people to play with.”

You smiled after a second, playing along. “Is that what you're doing? Playing with me?”

“You make it easy to play with, even when I have to chase you. Though I didn't exactly chase you, did I? All it took was a text,” he said, though you didn't feel insulted at the implication of how easy it was to get you there. “And dressing up like an angel? You’re far from being immune to temptation.”

It wasn't fear that moved through you, but your smile slipped all the same even as he dragged a finger in and out of you. “I, oh, was kidding about the whole demon thing.”

The gorgeous grin was back on his face. “So was I.”

He sealed his lips against yours as he pushed another finger in, the feeling making your head spin as you rocked your hips. Wantonly, you practically humped his hand as he took what he wanted from you. It was pathetic that you allowed him in so easily, but didn’t he always make you feel good?

“You’re bad for me,” you whined, gasping when he bit down on your bottom lip.

“The worst,” he agreed, pressing his palm hard against your clit. “But you’re so good for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

The praise warmed you as your moans got louder.

“I could fuck anyone here tonight, but it’s you I want,” he went on, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “My filthy, desperate angel. You’ll let me do whatever I want to you and you won’t stop me. Do you know how good that makes me feel that you want me so badly?”

You wanted to argue that he was wrong, but how could you deny his words when you were so close? And he was right. He could fuck anyone he wanted, but his fingers were deep inside you because you were special. You meant something to him.

Right?

“You want me, too,” you stated, but the words came out like a whimper, lost in the music.

“Of course, I do. You’re my favorite. That’s why I wanted you here with me tonight,” he smirked, the words as empty as how you felt when the sun came up. But you believed him because you wanted to believe him. That it didn’t matter if he took other lovers because they didn’t mean anything to him. He was still your addiction and you wanted to get high. “Now come on my fingers. I know you can do it.”

With a shudder, you did as he said and soaked his fingers with your juices. He licked into your mouth as it went slack from pleasure, an almost smug hum reverbirating as the digits continued to glide along your walls. The familiar haze washed over you as he guided you through your orgasm. If anyone around you noticed, they didn’t care.

Neither did you.

“Delicious,” he purred as he drew his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. “How do you feel?”

Licking your taste from his fingers, you swallowed with a heavy heart. “Empty,” you admitted, the high crashing even sooner than usual. You hated it. You wanted it to go away.

You needed to go, but your feet wouldn't allow you to move.

He didn’t look at all offended by your answer. Instead, a pleased smile spread across his face. “That’s because my fingers are never enough. You need my cock.”

You both knew you weren't going anywhere. Why argue? “I need your cock,” you agreed. All he had to do was fill you up and it would make it better.

“Bend over my table and I’ll give it to you,” he promised with a glint in his eye. It was like staring into an abyss and you wondered how deep it went. Would you ever reach the bottom if you fell?

“But the crowd-”

“They won’t even notice. They'll just think we're grinding to the music,” he said, gracefully hopping on the stage as you followed with shaky limbs. “And even if they did, who gives a fuck? They’ll wish they were in your place, but they never will be. You know why?”

“Because I’m special?”

“Yeah, you are. My favorite angel who feeds me well,” he assured you, the void in your chest slowly starting to grow smaller as he brought your back to his chest. “But don’t ever walk away from me again, okay? It'll only hurt us both.”

There was no sarcasm in his tone. Only truth.

“I won't walk away,” you said, letting him pull your dress up again as he pressed his clothed cock against your ass.

You'd always come back if he called.

“That's my girl” he praised, lightly biting your earlobe. “Now hold onto the table so we can have some real fun.”

With a nod and a smile, you fell into the abyss.

Why is he so pretty? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Misc Sebastian Stan Characters ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #navy's trick or treat nonsense #mickey henry x reader #mickey henry x female reader #mickey henry x you #mickey henry x y/n #mickey henry x female!reader #mickey henry x fem!reader #mickey henry x f!reader #mickey henry #mickey henry imagine #mickey henry fanfiction #mickey henry au #mickey henry fic #mickey henry fan fic #mickey henry fan fiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

[maisie-rebloging-blog]

I personally am very excited to see a bunch of hot people in a new beach scene

But that’s just me

#top gun maverick #glen powell #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #coyote #greg tarzan davis #hangman #tgm #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun 1986 #top gun 3 #tom cruise #bob floyd #Phoenix #natasha trace #lewis pullman #fanboy danboy #mickey fanboy garcia