maybe a hot take but i miss when bucky’s hair looked kinda wavy and messy and not whatever fucked up shit they keep doing to him now 😭 first thunderbolts now doomsday PLEASE marvel. i get that it’s supposed to reflect him being able to properly take care of himself now instead of just being a weapon but he looks SILLY 😭💔
why does no one write alhaitham x reader fics man he’s so pookiebear what’s not to love ( ; ω ; ) i swear i’ve gone thru the entire tag at this point give me MORE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
thinking abt re9 leon who comes back ready to pounce on u after getting cured bc this is the first time in so long he hasn’t been in excruciating pain n wants to make up for all the times he couldn’t pound u into the mattress hmmmm
gonna need the ow fanfic writers to rise from the dead for mizuki PLEASE he’s so cute and his voice is so nice if i could write well myself i would do it (╥_╥)
Synopsis: You’re the band’s manager, and you hate groupies - especially drummer Mahito’s. Something between you finally snaps, and when you drive the van of your gear back home, Mahito meets you in the back for a chat
Tags/Warnings: Mahito/GN!Reader, AFAB!Reader band manager!reader, drummer!Mahito, pre-relationship, smut, top!Mahito, bottom!reader, friends to lovers, mild jealousy, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), cumming early, slightly possessive reader
Word Count: 3,214
Notes: Another trade with the gorgeous @heavenlysnail, this time for musician AU, I'll link her part once it's posted
There was nothing you took more joy in than removing groupies from whatever venue the band was gigging in on any given evening. Sure, it was a small local band, but even they had groupies. Fans who had been there since day one, or those who thought the band might have a chance at being something, so wanted to get in first before they went ‘viral’. Claim their credit for being early, and have an in with the band. As their manager, it was a deep pleasure to remove them all when necessary, and even when not.
Every member of the band had their own fans, often regular faces that’d been watching them play gigs semi-regularly for months now if not years for some of them. Those fans were the least problematic, the ones that knew you too, by name, and would greet you just as much as the band. It was the newer people, those that thought they could swindle their way into dating a band member just in case they ‘made it big’ - those were the ones that spoiled it for everyone. The reason all fans would get kicked from make-shift green rooms and ushered away from the band because they couldn’t be trusted. It was a shame for the few that were worth spending time with, the ones that really were just friends.
All that said, it still brought you great pleasure to remove them.
The five of you were good friends, and that time before the band went on stage was sacred. A little pre-show ritual formed through happenstance that became law from how often you did it, the way you all drifted around each other like it was second nature. It might just be that there was no better feeling.
Though, there was one reason in particular you took so much joy in kicking groupies out of course. That reason was the band’s drummer: Mahito.
It might just be that you had just a tiny bit of a crush on him. Just a little one. A little crush you didn’t want to acknowledge or act on out of the sake for the band, because God forbid you got together, then broke up, and things ended up awkward. Lead singer Geto had said it before - they didn’t know what they’d do without you. You couldn’t leave them in the dust, so your feelings for Mahito got pushed down and down until ignoring them and behaving as if you were content being single and celibate was second nature. You’d almost convinced yourself too - if it wasn’t for those groupies.
The ones that talked about how good he looked after a gig dripping sweat, the ones who admitted his stitch-work tattoos, the ones that talked about how his hands looked gripping the drumsticks. They drove you insane. It wasn’t like you expected them not to notice, of course they would, but there was no reason for them to be all over him while they talked about it. They really shouldn’t be touching strangers just in general. Maybe a small part of you was bitter that they could say all of those things while you held your tongue.
But if you couldn’t have him - well, neither could they.
“Come on - you know the rules by now. No access to the band for a half hour before the gig.” You said, leaning against the doorframe with arms folded over your chest.
“You know me by now - just let me in for a little while. Mahito and I-”
“I don’t care. The answer is no.” You replied firmly, reaching to grab the door to start pulling it closed. The fan’s hand reached out, palm against the wood to stop you from closing it.
“What is your issue with letting us see the band?” They demanded, a little more forceful than before, “you’re the band manager, not a life manager.”
Your brow raised, mouth opened to form a response when a smoother voice cut in.
“What was that?” Geto asked, one hand rested as a calming presence on your shoulder, the other tucked casually in the pocket of his black, stone-wash jeans.
“Oh- Geto-” the fan stammered, and then another voice equally as familiar appeared. His chin rested on your shoulder, one arm looped so casually around your waist as if it wasn’t making your heart thud just about out of your chest.
“Here to see me did you say? I don’t remember you.”
His voice was soft, dreamy in that way in only he could pull off, but the words cut like the sharpest blade. With that, the fight drained from the fan completely, replaced by embarrassment. They said nothing further before they scuttled away.
Mahito didn’t move for a moment, just watching the fan run off with a smug pleasure. Geto squeezed your shoulder before walking away, and you were deeply grateful for it when Mahito only used it as an invitation to press himself closer to you. He was a touchy person, you had to remind yourself, he behaved like this with all the band members.
“Some people just have no respect.” He commented lightly, thumbs hooking in the front pockets of your own trousers.
“That’s not the first time someone has given me attitude, and it won’t be the last.” You simply replied, you’d shrug if he wasn’t still resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Next time you should just tell them to shove their ideas up their ass. It’ll probably be more effective than being polite.” He mused, finally straightening out, but only so he could rest his chin on top of your head instead. Tall bastard.
“Maybe, but the way I interact with fans represents the band. I don’t want to represent the band by being an asshole.” You retorted with a roll of your eyes.
When you tipped back your head to look up at him, Mahito pushed up onto his toes so he could look down at you properly.
“You could represent the band as being people who have firm boundaries.” He suggested with a little wink that might have outright made your heart stop, then he skipped away to finish getting ready. You exhaled sharply, trying to convince your heart to stop racing.
It was easy to slip out of the room to head for the bathroom just to take a short breather, and you figured you’d bring back drinks for the band while you were roaming. A few regular gig-attenders greeted you as you passed by, a few eyeing you with distaste - you took the brunt of that so the band wouldn’t have to. You set the rules, let fans hate you, all so the band themselves could be adored and listened to.
Mahito was beside you before you realised it.
“Need help carrying those?” He asked as he draped himself over the bar, a little smirk quirked at his lips, knowing he’d scared you just a little with his sudden appearance.
“I’d have been okay, but I suppose you can help since you’re here.” You replied with a shake of your head. A beat of silence passed after that, just a single moment where Mahito’s eyes burned holes into your skin.
“I see the way they look at you.” He said, surprising you once again. He wasn’t stupid, but you’d not realised he was quite that perceptive either.
“How do they look at me?” You asked in return, because you didn’t know how else to reply.
“Like you’re the shit on their shoes. I don’t like it.”
He would never stop surprising you, it seemed. Each beat of the conversation seemed to serve only to knock you further and further off-kilter.
“I let them look at me like that so they won’t look at you guys like that. They can hate me all they want, they’re still listening to your music and that’s enough for me.” You replied with a shrug, thanking the bartender as he set down the drinks you’d ordered for everyone. Mahito reached out, but rather than taking two of the glasses like you’d expected, he grabbed your wrists to stop you from taking any.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is that enough? Why don’t you demand their respect?” He asked softly, leaning in just a little closer. Close enough that you could feel how warm he was.
“Because unlike you guys and your music, I have nothing to say.”
“Yes you do.”
“Mahito-”
“I want to hear what you say.”
The night was a blur after that. An undeniable tension rising between you after what had happened at the bar. You were sure there would’ve been more if only Geto hadn’t interrupted you both to summon you back to the make-shift green room to go over final checks. Then, they needed to play. You slipped into the audience as you always did, just at the side of the room so you could hear but not be among the fans themselves.
It was only too easy to get lost in watching Mahito. The way his muscles moved as he played flawlessly as he always did, keeping up with the band’s fast and heavy music like he was born for it. You wondered sometimes if maybe he was. Sweat dripped from his forehead and temples, sliding slowly downwards over pale skin and black ink lines. You fought hard not to imagine licking those droplets away, and then tracing further downwards over his skin.
Then it was over, and everyone was trailing back to the room where all your stuff was, packing away instruments and getting everything ready to go back into the van.
“I’ve got it tonight.” Mahito offered as he leaned against his drum kit casually.
“Are you sure? You never pack up alone.” Geto asked, a brow raised with suspicion, sharing a look with Jogo.
“Positive. Besides, I have help.” He claimed, then wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Apparently, the assurance that you’d be there was enough for the others, so soon enough they cleared off.
“When did I agree to this?” You asked once they were gone, voice soft in sound but not in tone.
“Just now, when you didn’t argue.” Mahito replied with that little cheeky smile that drove you insane in the best way.
So, you stayed and you helped. You were the one that drove the van after all, so you’d need to linger no matter what.
The last thing you’d been expecting was for Mahito to bend you over in the back of that van once you pulled up in the parking lot for your apartment complex. You’d climbed into the back to make sure everything was safe, and grab your bag that you’d left back there, and suddenly you were on your hands and knees, ass in the air.
“Should’ve gotten you in this position way sooner.” He commented as he closed the doors behind you both, the only light in the van being the limited amount that snuck in from around the chairs and through the crack in the doors. Almost complete darkness, and yet you still knew with certainty that Mahito was staring.
His hands followed, smoothing over the curves of your ass. One continued upwards and over the small of your back, to your shoulders and then your hair, just touching every inch of you. The other hand kept its position, idly massaging the fat of your ass like a stress ball, as if he were admiring even the feel of you in his hands.
“Mahito, what-”
“I know you feel it too. The tension.” His voice whispered, but in the quiet space it was more like he’d screamed. What did you reply to that? Keep denying, try to refuse, or finally let yourself cave and get what you’d wanted all along?
That question was answered when the hard length of his cock pressed against your ass. There was no way in hell you found the strength to deny yourself that, not when it was so close and attainable, practically begging for you to touch it. Stronger men than you had fallen to less.
“Feel that? That’s for you.” He purred, both hands stopping where they were to grip onto you, just letting you feel every place where he was touching you more intensely.
“Mahito..” You murmured, turning your head to be able to look back at him. He wasn’t grinning like you’d been expecting, instead the view almost knocked the air from your lungs. He knelt like he was prepared for worship, face soft and eyes wandering, wide with admiration. Like there was nothing else he’d rather look at than you. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen Mahito look at anything like that, much less you.
“Talk to me, baby.” He encouraged when he caught your eyes, that familiar smirk sparked in an instant. If you’d not seen it yourself, you’d never have believed that soft expression had even existed. You opened your mouth to speak, but found the words wouldn’t come up. There were a thousand thoughts swarming through your mind and yet nothing seemed to be willing to part from your lips, none seemed to encompass what you needed to know succinctly enough. None were enough to explain that you wanted this, even though it was a bad idea, that you’d wanted it for longer than you were quite willing to admit.
“It’s alright, I know what you need.” Mahito cooed, hooking his thumbs into your waistband. He paused there for only a moment, scanning your face for any sign that you might be about to say no, to deny him. You nodded. He needed no more permission than that.
Mahito removed your trousers so fast you were sure he’d torn them. A yelp escaped you a moment later as he roughly shoved his face between your legs, greedy tongue lapping at your folds with abandon, like he’d been waiting for this very moment almost as long as you had. You couldn’t get a word out around the moans that flooded from you, a finger already slipping into your hole to start working you open, curling and shifting until he found that spot that made your back bow harder, tongue circling your clit relentlessly.
You’d never had someone eat you so eagerly before, like they needed it more than they needed air. If Mahito had told you he did need you more than air, in that moment you might have believed him, the way he not just licked but devoured.
“Fuck- ‘s good baby, you taste so good.” He mumbled against your folds, already borderline slurring. You shivered at the sound of his voice, saying something dirty about you, not just a foul mouthed joke. A second finger slipped into your hole, the way eased by both your own wetness and the copious amount of saliva he’d left behind, drooling from tasting you.
“Could stay here all night, you’re so pretty down here.” He moaned into your folds, hand shifting downwards from your back to grip your hip, pulling you ever closer only to press his face in deeper, inhaling deeply just to take in your scent before his mouth was attached to that sensitive bud again, sucking and swirling his tongue like his very life depended on it.
Behind you, Mahito’s cock leaked in his trousers, achingly hard and throbbing with need - need for you. If he’d been in a better position, he’d have been rocking into the ground beneath him, just to feel some form of friction. He needed you so badly it was maddening, and the longer he lapped at your folds the more he needed you, the more hazy his mind became.
“Come on pretty… give it to me. God please give it to me- cum in my mouth please.”
Never would you have expected to hear Mahito beg, not in your entire life. You hadn’t been prepared for just how good it’d sound, sending shivers down your spine and making you desperately attempt to grasp the floor of the van, attempting to find purchase to ground you even when the surface was flat.
“Please baby.. know you’re close. Let me taste you.” He murmured against your folds, tongue swirling deliciously around your clit, then dragged his tongue flat over it.
Your back arched, toes curled and muscles tightened, that cliff edge drawing ever nearer. The knot tied in your stomach, breath catching and a choked moan escaped as you finally came, only making Mahito moan as he loudly, messily licked and slurped every drop that leaked from your core.
Breaths came in heavy, mouth dry from moaning and panting, body finally relaxing as your orgasm slowly subsided. Mahito pulled away just before the feeling became too much, and you could hear rustling behind you. With heavy limbs and a heavier head, you turned just enough to watch as he hurriedly tugged down his trousers.
“Mahito..” You murmured, licking your lips absently at the sight of him. His length was achingly hard, a prominent vein throbbing on the underside, tip flushed a deep, angry red with the need for release. He practically whined as he took himself in hand, the muscles in his abdomen jumping with the sudden pleasure. Mahito’s cheeks were flushed pink, the colour creeping down to his chest and up to the tips of his ears, chin and mouth still glistening with your juices lingering there, slowly trailing down his neck.
Slowly, you managed to push yourself up onto your knees, carefully turning to face the man. If you hadn’t been totally head over heels for him before, you definitely were now. Deeply and irreversibly in love and maybe in lust. You’d known Mahito was attractive, had seen him shirtless or in swimwear a dozen times, but none of that could compare to how he looked in that moment. Flush and panting and brows knit with need and utterly perfect. All just from tasting you.
“Don’t- don’t touch me. If you do I’ll-” Mahito grunted, whole body shuddering as he squeezed around the base of his cock, desperately trying to hold off an orgasm he was sure was inevitable despite his best efforts.
Mahito had never been able to tell you what to do.
You reached out despite his words and slowly dragged a single finger up the underside of his cock, tracing that perfect vein, gathering precum as it went. Sure enough, a choked whimper seemed to get caught in the back of his throat as his cock twitched once, twice and then he was cumming. It was almost sweet, how pathetic he looked. White pearls spurted up and onto his stomach, coating pale skin, then the final drips trailing over your fingers, slowly downwards towards his balls.
At some point, his eyes had closed, and now they fluttered open to reveal they were wet and slightly glassy from overwhelming pleasure.
“Better?” You asked with a small quirk, and the laugh that followed from him was breathy and unsteady.
“That was- cruel. I wanted to feel that hot, perfect pussy.” He protested, shifting down from his knees, to his ass and then backwards to lay down as he panted.
“Oh well, I suppose there’s always round two!” He remarked after a moment, looking up at you with eyes sparkling with mischief.
Tag list: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @hyperfixationthingss @queenmimi2817 @fanaticsnail @villainousace @hellkaiserinphoenix
If you'd like to tip me you can head over to my Kofi
cw; unprotected sex, smoking (casually for reader). Edited repost from an old blog. 1.1k
He hates himself for this, everything he does with you even if it feels good at the moment. It’s easy for him to keep Denji and Power at arms length, tell himself that he’d swing the proverbial sword should the government deem fit.
You’re supposed to be just another one of Makima’s dogs, a tool at their disposal in the inevitable goal to take down the gun devil.
Aki is straightlaced, put together in every sense. Keeps a clean home despite the uncouth housemates he was assigned but at least you don’t add to the mix. At least you can eat without making a mess, that you clean after yourself and even the slovenly duo. At least you say please and thank you, you have manners.
A soft voice you use to get what you want out of the other two and it usually aligns with not being so fucking loud or bothersome for awhile so he appreciates it. But that’s not the only way you want to use your voice is it? No, you use it on Aki too, linger too long at his side while you try and learn more about him under the guise of helping clean up. He doesn’t answer much, hands you the dishes to dry since you’re standing there.
“That’s okay, I like the silence,” you sound so matter of fact when you say it. Like you won some stalemate and maybe you did because it almost makes him laugh, going little more than blowing some air out of his nose in a soft scoff with the slightest upward tug at his lips.
Working together isn’t tortuous either, you do what you’re told, even better you do your job and show results with little to no prompting; eagerly even, with a smile on your face like you only want his approval.
You aren’t bad, at least, not for a devil.
“Was I good today?” You coo in that damned, honey sweet tone of yours that always makes the detachment he tries to cling to hard to maintain. You tuck into his sheets, making the fabric rustle and he wonders when you’d gotten comfortable enough to climb into his bed like this.
“You did well, yes,” his voice is smooth, deep and even while he flicks his thumb over the flint wheel, flame lighting the paper of his cigarette to take a deep drag.
But that’s not the answer you’re looking for, not really, and it’s apparent when you force yourself into his field of view. You pull the cigarette from his lips and bring it to your own, giggling at the deadpan Aki gives you as you take your own puff. You kick one of your legs over his own, settling on top of his thighs but he makes no move to push you away.
“But was I good today,” you don’t miss how his jaw tightens when you ask once again or how tightly he holds the stick when you pass it back to him. His eyes close as he takes another drag, inhaling slowly and deeply, letting the smoke linger in his lungs for a long moment before exhaling it through his nostrils like a dragon when his eyes open again.
You really are a devil with how wicked your grin is, how you carefully thread your fingers together against the back of his neck; pulling closer to press your chest to his. You know you’ve won when he sighs, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table so he can put both of his hands on your hips.
“Turn around,” a command Aki doesn’t even give you time to comply with before he’s moving you himself, settling back against his headboard with your back flush with his chest. You wiggle against his crotch, giving him enough friction to make his cock stir while you work to shimmy down your pants and underwear.
Your fingers slip between your thighs to glide through your folds, gathering slick and sighing as your head lolls back against his shoulder, nosing into his jawline. He smells like his cologne and nicotine, irresistibly intoxicating in a way that makes your fingers hasten in pace as you buck into the touch. The writhing makes him grit his teeth, gripping your hips tightly to grind down into him until you’ve almost reached your peak when he snatches your wrist to stop you.
It feels like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you, eyes shooting open but your complaint dies in your throat when his voice is firm in your ear, husking “don’t whine” in a way that sends a delight shiver down your spine.
Aki is straightlaced, but that doesn’t mean he can’t come untied. That much is evident as he lifts you to pull out his aching cock, tip leaking as it aligns with your entrance and you’re all too eager to sink onto him again. He’s been here before, with you, once or twice and each time he said it was the last but here you are again, finding relief after a long day with one another.
You like the way he groans with pleasure in your ear, how he tries to bite them back and find how his brows scrunch tight with each spasm of your cunt endearingly cute. Aki takes control, moving you up and down while he thrusts into your tight heat with a growing fervor that makes the slap of skin sound louder the closer he gets to his climax.
Aki removes one of his hands from your hips, expecting you to keep pace while his fingers settle to roll quick but methodical circles into your swollen clit. You choke on a gasp, quickly bleeding into a throaty moan with a pretty arch to your back, creaming embarrassingly quickly around his cock with his name and a curse on your tongue.
Though, your climax does trigger his own, following shortly after for him to pull out and coat your puffy slit in thick ropes of cum. His uninhibited, satisfied groan is music to your ears, your own hips twitching into the calloused pads of his fingers as he works you both through your orgasms until you're pushing his hand away before it becomes too much.
Aki leans back against his headboard, form now devoid of any earlier tension as you shuffle on his lap after a steadying breath, reaching for his pack of smokes with a cute stretch.
You mimic the motion you see him do time and again, shaking out a stick before placing it between your lips to light, taking a couple of puffs for yourself before straddling him one more to offer it to him as well. He sighs but the only bitter taste on his tongue this time is from the nicotine of the stick you hold between his lips with a deceptively innocent smile.
Because if it feels this good, can it really be so wrong?
watching new season of dr stone…. he’s so pretty🙂↕️ so so so so so pretty 🙂↕️ mhm mhm 🙂↕️ between him and ryusui i am so cooked 🙂↕️ it’s so over for me 🙂↕️
started watching the punisher series with the goal of it just being for funsies and that i wasn’t going to fall for frank but 3 episodes in here we are… big beefy traumatized soldier man mmm….
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