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dwaekkicidal · 4 months

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Any thoughts on daddy boyfriend Minho? x

DADDY BOYFIE MINHO?¿¿??¿?? 😣😣 many thoughts... i got a little (a lot) carried away and made this sugar daddy to boyfriend minho and a lot longer than i meant to lol.. hope you enjoy <3

warnings: gn!reader, last paragraph has pet play, daddy dom!minho

For some reason I instantly thought of Sugar Daddy Minho, who is only <10 years older than you but is well off due to his job AND gives off the dominant vibes that make you respect him as an 'elder' right off the bat. He first sees you in a coffee shop he goes to with one of his friends, you're too pretty for him to miss out on so he strikes up a conversation with you. His looks mixed with the confidence he gave off made you instantly attracted to him. So much so that you fold embarrassingly fast when he brings up a 'Sugar Baby' idea.

You trust him pretty easily right away because he made you both sign a contract containing agreements for both of your safety and HE'S the one who puts the 'no sex' rule in place: only asking for your companionship and occasional dates (he doesn't tell you right away but he only did it for your comfort, he makes it VERY clear how into you he is both emotionally and physically). After you find that out, you tell him you don't want the rule in place and he immediately throws it out the window. (& you two fuck that night hehe) Everything is still the same after this but now you two are dating and the contract hold less meaning the longer you two date (until he inevitably brings up vetoing the contract because he trusts you that much c':)

On the outside: You two look like any other couple! The only time people bat an eye is when you "Daddy! Can you buy me this?? Pleaseee~" to him in public after they just watched you kiss on the lips (LMFAO). And let me tell you, Daddy boyfie Minho spoils you rotten. Even more so now that you two have known each other for a long while so he's no longer afraid of being 'scammed by a stranger'. Now it's just the love of his life who he plans to marry soon enough is asking for a well deserved treat. He leaves no space for any ifs, ands, or buts from anybody when he decides that you deserve a new present. The store is out of stock? Tough shit. Order it now or show him the nearest store that has it in stock. Oh, it's not for sale anymore? That's unfortunate. "I'll pay you triple if you give me the last ones you have in the back."

"Don't worry kitty. I don't care how many places I have to drive to, you earned this this so you are getting this. Nuh-uh! No 'buts.'"

Oh, and Daddy boyfie Minho absolutely folds the second he sees your puppy dog eyes and pouted lips, no matter what is for. Whether it be for him to do something for you that he wouldn't do for anybody else or go somewhere with you that he doesn't want to go or anything that his friends wouldn't catch him dead doing. For you? It's done the second the request leaves your lips. That concert that you want to go to with him but he's busy that day? Oh look at that, the meeting was 'randomly' pushed back a day. That pretty piece of jewelry he told you to 'wait' for? "Don't give me those eyes, kitty.. You know I- Ah. Fuck it. Excuse me, can I buy one of those?" That person hurt your feelings? Realistically nothing much he can do but he will stare holes into their head and do everything in his power to get them far far away from you while cooing at you and comforting you.

"Kitty... you know I hate crowded places.." Pleeeease Daddy! It will only last a few hours! And I promise I'll make it up to you~

Daddy boyfie Minho who is an ass man and absolutely LOVES to spank you in any scenario. You're cooking a meal? Should've kept your guard up. -smack- Oh, you're minding your business doing work at your desk? Will literally go out of his way to stand you up, land a smack to your ass, then sit you back down and walk away. There will be days where he doesn't hit you on the ass even once, but that always means that he has already or will grab a handful and just sit there. Also does this in public and in front of your & his friends. After a while nobody is phased, and everybody goes on with the conversation as if he isn't grabbing at your cheeks like a freak.

In front of my parents? Really? "Sorry Jagiii. (he's not) You know I can't help myself! You're just too cute~"

Behind closed doors: Daddy boyfie Minho who you can't help but submit to immediately every time you're in the bedroom. You did it the first time you had sex and you can tell he felt something awakened in him. Now, after many many sessions, you default to kneeling on the floor in front of him while he stands or sits in before you and pets your hair softy like his little kitty<3. Even on days you're particularly bratty, you tend to just submit the second he's in a position with space between his legs for you. He loves being in power both in and outside of the bedroom, so any time you're below him and oh so submissive he's weak in the knees and his chest is swelling with pride & horniess.

"You're always so good for me, right kitty? Just a good little pet for your Daddy~"

Daddy boyfie Minho who, I literally can't stress this enough, loooves when you submit it him with no struggle. That being said, on particularly stressful days when one of you is pent up and wants a harder scenario, he can't lie to himself and say he doesn't enjoy if you brat out and make him work for it. But on days like that, just remember that he's in MeanRacha for a reason😉 Likes having you lay across his lap so he can swap between fingering you and spanking you (or on particularly fiending days, will use a dildo and/or vibrator on you hehe). Coos at you and smiles at your strangled moans and pleads of "Daddy please! 'S too much" , only to then push the dildo even deeper into you or the vibrator harder against you.

"Awww it's too much? Too bad. Now be a good little kitty and take what is given to you." >.<

I'm a firm believer that Daddy boyfie Minho would love to put a collar on you and keeps a whole collection for you to choose from depending on your outfit/mood. Discreet ones (aka general "submissive collars") for when you're going in public and not trying to be uncomfortable with other people's looks. But then he has very obvious ones for the bedroom, specifically ones with a biiig hole in the middle or a space attached to it so he can attach a leash to it. When you're sitting between his legs he likes to wrap the leash around his hand a few times and hold you close against his thigh, stroking your cheek and just sitting there enjoying the comfort of the moment. But it only lasts so long before he uses the leverage of the tight leash to fuck your mouth onto his dick <3

"Which pretty collar will it be today, my love? The black one matches your outfit, but you know I do love that mint one on you."

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muntitled · 11 months

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𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence.

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy.

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you.

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant.

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle.

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it."

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics.

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?"

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things.

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine." His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back,

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient.

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink.

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long?

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence.

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist.

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately.

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling.

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards.

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth.

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his.

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-"

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

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navstuffs · 1 year

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Fun times at the beach

Pairings: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader, Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Warnings tags: porn without plot, public sex, beach!sex, handjob (m receiving), exhibitionist!leon (im in a mood for that one), tiny bit of possessive!reader, rough!carlos, tiny bit of possessive!carlos, exhibitionist!reader&carlos

Author’s Notes: almost a week to summer to end so i decided to make a small little smut piece to say goodbye to summer for both leon and carlos, separately. i will have a fanfic for the beginning of fall as well hopefully. enjoy!!

Leon struggles to stay quiet.

It is 7 a.m., and the beach is almost empty. Almost. You and Leon found a nice secluded spot, far away from the very few people who decided to jog or walk in the morning. For any distracted outsider, you are just a couple who chose to stay away from the seashore, with a towel above their bodies, relaxing and listening to the waves.

You quickly look around, your hands jerking Leon's cock fast as he whimpers. There is no time to tease, and you both know it. Not that Leon needed leaking pre-cum the way he was since you presented the idea. The idea had been yours, to which Leon gladly accepted. The risk of getting caught was a recent kink you discovered of your boyfriend after almost getting caught fucking in a friend’s bathroom. It seems to drive the more concentrated Leon over the edge, just like now. And you love it.

Leon lets out another louder moan, calling back your attention. You silence him with a kiss on his lips, no tongue, enough for him to open his mouth, needy for a deeper kiss. You break away from the kiss, jerking his cock fast and hard, and give yourself a moment to admire Leon: his chest raising up and down, semi-open blue eyes staring at you with desire and lust, cheeks pink. His mouth formed an “O,” trying to hold back moans. He is barely keeping together, and you love it: you love how much you can make Leon lose control, just for you. You would ruin him so he would never think of anybody else. When his hips start grinding against your hand, desperate for his release, you move to whisper in his ear, not caring if anything could see you now.

“Such a dirty boy. Do you think we are being careful now? No, anyone passing now knows exactly what is happening: Agent Leon Kennedy likes to be watched as he gets a handjob. How close he is just with a simple handjob. You like to be seen: You want everyone to know how filthy you are, don’t you?”

The words do the trick: Leon moans your name, biting into your neck. You milk him of every single drop until Leon’s body starts spasming under yours. When you finally stop, he roughly brings you in for a kiss. The deep and hot kiss you denied him earlier, also tells you are getting retribution later. When you break away, Leon looks embarrassed. You smile, gesturing with your head toward the ocean.

“Care to join me for a wash?”

He smiles back, shy and adorable, his blue eyes shining against the sunlight.

Carlos demands you to stay quiet.

“Shhhh…”

You nod, the slapping sounds of sex loud enough to make your head spin. You know you are just a few feet away from a packed beach. It is the end of summer, Saturday afternoon, clear sky with the sun out, so most people are enjoying the sunlight they still have.

It is difficult to be silent, especially when you are so close to your orgasm, Carlos's hips hitting against your ass without any sign of stopping. You watch, fascinated, as the drops of water fall onto his shoulder and back, his swimwear down to his feet as you are naked in his arms. He looks delicious: like you are being fucked by a water God who only desires to fuck you until you lose your mind. To which you aren't too far away.

Carlos was the one who discovered the spot: a wall of rocks that shielded any view from the beach, which could only be accessed by swimming. You didn’t expect the small open area when you arrived there, enough for you two to stand together, bodies rubbing against each other. One thing led to another, and now you have your legs around Carlos’s hips as he fucks you hard and fast. You had never done anything like this before, not in public.

A specific thrust from Carlos ends up hitting a delicious spot and your eyes roll with pleasure, a loud moan coming from you. Instantly, Carlos’s hand is in your mouth, and you can taste the saline in your tongue.

“You don’t even seem to care there are people behind this wall. They could hear us: hear how dirty you are.” Carlos whispers, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he just doesn’t stop. You don’t know how he is keeping silent; the only sounds Carlos makes are grunts or a low curse in Portuguese here and there.

Your hands look for his shoulder for support, your toes curling. You will probably have a scratched back tomorrow, but you don’t care. You are so close now, so close the pressure in your core building up to its limit. Carlos knowing you, as only he did, takes the hand off your mouth to lift your chin up to look at him.

“Come on now, meu amor, goza pra mim.”

Your body, as it always does, obeys, and a very strong orgasm rips through your body. You start to scream, but Carlos places his hand over your mouth, your mind going blank. You don’t even register when Carlos cums inside you, your head resting against his shoulder as he curses near your ear, how good you are for him. How nobody else would have you. How you are his, and just his,

It takes a few seconds to calm yourself, breathing deeply as orgasm still spasms your body. Carlos gently puts you down but still supports you since your legs have become jelly. You turn your gaze to your man, a sensation of proudness to see him out of breath and admire his beauty: looking so hot like he did was criminal. And he was all yours.

“You good?” Carlos wonders, and you laugh weak. Carlos checks the top of your head to see if it got too hot with the sun, but you seem okay. “Come on, let’s go back to the beach.”

“I don’t think I will be able to swim back.”

“You will be fine. I don’t want us to have to call for help. I will be right behind you.” Carlos teases, winking in your direction.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You chuckle, winking seductively.

#leon kennedy x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #leon kennedy x you #carlos oliveira x you #leon kennedy smut #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #carlos oliveira fanfic

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poorlittlegreenie13 · 18 days

Text

Deleted scene from 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' to keep you busy while AO3 is down:

(Sydney & Carmy babysit for Richie, set in between chapters four & five — I wrote it & then decided to scrap it, I don't even know why lol it just wasn't working. & I didn't edit it, so it might have mistakes. But anyway, you guys can have it as a treat.)

Richie runs out the front door, pulling his jacket on.

“Carmen,” he says, walking up to Carmy and, much to Sydney’s surprise, taking Carmy’s face in both hands and pressing a firm kiss to the top of Carmy’s head. “Thank you so much. I owe you, brother.”

“It’s fine,” Carmy mutters.

“Sydney,” Richie says, pulling away from Carmy to look at her.

“I don’t need a kiss,” Sydney says quickly, “just a verbal thank you is more than enough.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Richie says. “Carmy explained the situation, right?”

“I told her what you told me,” Carmy says.

“Because I never miss a weekend with her,” Richie says, “I mean, I have literally never missed a single minute of a weekend with her before, but if I don’t go to the DMV today, it’s like six months till I can get another appointment, and I really need to get my license renewed.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney says, not dwelling too much on the thought of how much Richie has been driving her around with an expired license so far. “We’re happy to look after her.”

“I’ll be back in two hours,” Richie says. “She has her iPod, and all her Barbies. There are Uncrustables in the fridge, or you can cook with whatever’s in there, and she likes watching Unicorn Academy, she can put it on herself.”

“We’ll be fine, cousin. Don’t be late to your appointment,” Carmy says, with a somber expression that looks less like someone taking on babysitting duties, and more like a soldier awaiting command.

Carmy called Syd that morning, saying Richie was freaking out about needing a babysitter. Granted, Carmy was also freaking out about being a babysitter.

"Nat’s busy, Tina’s busy, everyone’s fucking busy, can you please come with me? I’m not good with kids."

Sydney isn’t particularly good with kids either, but she didn’t tell him that.

She would’ve taken any excuse to see Carmy. Because she’s a masochist. And because the fact that he asked her to come not because it would help trick Richie, but because he wanted her help, made her feel kind of hot in the face.

When he picked her up, she slid into his passenger’s seat with an almost-practiced ease, and he just sat there looking at her for a minute.

“Your hair,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, touching the end of one freshly-done braid, “yeah, microbraids, like I told you.”

“They look nice,” he said, and she blushed, despite the stiffness of the complement.

He always seems to rehearse his words to her in his head before he says them; they come out practiced and overly formal, and it frustrates her, how measured they seem, though it shouldn’t.

She’s pretty sure that’s just Carmy’s way. He’s careful with everything, not just compliments. She’s learning that about him.

She’s been learning other things about him, too.

Like the fact that he seems to go quiet in crowds, and gravitate toward walls. He flinches if anybody moves toward him too suddenly. Sometimes, not often, but enough to notice, he stutters when he speaks.

She wants to know everything about him. She wishes his life story was a book she could read, so she could just catch up to where he is now, and understand everything about him. She wants to know the right things to say, to do, how to put him at ease. She wants to know what he’s thinking when he looks at her.

Now, she watches Carmy walk into Richie’s house, stooping to pet Zanzibar as the puppy runs excitedly up to them, letting out high-pitched barks and tapping his little claws against the tiles of Richie’s entrance foyer.

In the doorframe of the kitchen across from them, a tiny girl with blonde hair and Richie’s facial features peeks out at them.

“Hi,” Sydney says, giving her a little wave.

“Uncle Carmy?” the girl asks.

Carmy looks up at her, unmistakable anxiety crossing his face.

“Uh, hi,” he says. “Richie’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“She doesn’t call her dad Richie, does she?” Sydney whispers.

“She knows who I mean,” Carmy whispers back.

Eva looks between the two of them.

“Dad said you would make me lunch,” she says.

Sydney smiles. “We will,” she says, looking at Carmy expectantly.

He nods seriously, walking ahead into the kitchen and beginning to look through Richie’s cabinets. Sydney follows Eva into the room, watching the little girl take a seat at one of the kitchen chairs, pulling her knees up into her chest and looking at Sydney with huge eyes she hasn’t totally grown into yet.

“Are you Uncle Carmy’s girlfriend?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Sydney says, glancing over at Carm.

He’s holding a box of Mac & Cheese, and holds it up for Eva to see, raising an eyebrow.

“This good?” he asks.

“That’s good,” Eva says, crossing her arms and deepening her voice slightly to mock Carmy as she says it. He cracks a smile, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove.

Michelin starred chef cooking boxed Mac & Cheese in a tee shirt three feet away from Sydney. Her life is a joke.

“Why are you his girlfriend?” Eva asks.

Sydney laughs softly, considering this.

“Well, uh,” she says, with a little shake of her head. Carmy has his back to her, facing the stove, but he’s standing still, like he’s listening. “He’s great at cooking,” Sydney says. “And I really like spending time with him. He’s good company.”

“My dad said Carmy’s never looked this happy before,” Eva says.

Carmy clears his throat. “I am happy,” he says, though there’s an ironic flatness to it.

“Because of her?” Eva asks.

Sydney bites the inside of her cheek.

But Carmy turns around and looks at Sydney, brow furrowing slightly, eyes soft.

“Yeah. Because of her,” he says.

He says it like it’s true.

Michelin star mac and cheese is about as good as it sounds. Carmy is leaning against Richie’s counter, watching Sydney and Eva eat. Eva’s iPod is set on the table in front of her, playing some Taylor Swift deepcut that Sydney doesn’t recognize. As Sydney swallows her third or fourth spoonful of food, she stands up, turning to Carmy. The heat of the stove has put a slight flush in the tops of his cheeks, and there’s a towel slung over one of his shoulders.

“You’re not eating?” she asks him.

The question seems to take him off guard. His eyes flicker to the pot of food, then back to her.

“No, I made it for you two,” he says.

“There’s plenty, Carm,” Sydney says, grabbing a bowl from Richie’s cabinet and filling it for him from the pot still warming on the stove. When she hands it to him, he just looks at it for a second, before taking a small spoonful and putting it in his mouth, chewing like it’s his first time eating a meal.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Sydney asks him, picking her own bowl back up.

“It’s alright,” he says, taking another, bigger spoonful. He does that sometimes; it’s one of the things she’s noticed. He eats like he’s starving, or he doesn’t eat at all. It gives her this weird urge to take care of him. To text him in the mornings, and at night, and ask him if he ate that day. To show up at his apartment unannounced with bags of groceries and make him sit down for twenty minutes while she meal preps for him.

“It’s good, Carm, it’s better than alright,” she says again, tone light, even though she’s willing him to believe her as hard as she can. Trying to get him to take a compliment is like trying to throw a ball through a brick wall.

He averts his eyes, nodding again. “A little flat, but I guess that’s what you get with boxed mix,” he says, pushing the noodles around with his spoon.

“Ever make it from scratch?” Sydney asks. “Or is that too pedestrian for a fancy New York Chef?”

“I'm gonna pretend I know what pedestrian means in that context,” he says, meeting her eyes with an amused smile. “I made it from scratch one Thanksgiving, years ago. Had no idea what I was doing. My mother passed out at like 3:00pm, and we were all scrambling in the kitchen trying to get dinner together for her so she’d, you know, see it and be happy with us when she woke up. But Sugar burned the turkey, so Mikey had to spend hours trying to calm her down; she got these crazy panic attacks when she made mistakes. And I made mac and cheese.”

“How old were you?” Sydney asks.

He seems surprised at the question, and shrugs. “Twelve, I think? Mikey would’ve been seventeen, Sugar would’ve just turned fourteen.”

“You’re the youngest?”

He nods.

“That figures,” Sydney says.

He scoffs. “Why does that figure?”

“I don’t know, just does.”

His bowl is almost empty. Wordlessly, she takes it from his hands, refilling it.

“So, did your mom like the mac and cheese?” she asks.

Something in his face darkens. He gives a quick shake of his head.

“No, she couldn’t get past Nat burning the turkey. We just, uh, took all the food into Mikey’s room and watched The Peanuts until she stopped yelling and fell asleep.”

“Uncle Carmy,” Eva interrupts, getting up from her chair and walking over to where Carmy is standing, looking up at him expectantly.“Daddy said you would play Barbies with me.”

“I will play Barbies with you,” Carmy says, and then, looking over at Sydney: “Syd, would you like to play Barbies?”

There’s a fond, almost relieved smile on his face, like another minute of talking about his family might’ve pushed him off some cliff’s edge that he wasn’t prepared to crawl back over.

“Obviously I want to play Barbies,” Sydney says, letting Eva lead them into the other room.

"You're such a liar," Sydney murmurs, as they walk behind Eva.

"I am?" Carmy asks lightly.

"Yeah," Sydney says, "you told me you weren't good with kids."

He smiles, shaking his head ruefully.

"I'm not," he says.

Sydney rolls her eyes.

And they play Barbies, for an hour. Carmy kneeling on carpet, listening attentively as Eva explains which Barbie is which (she has a Taylor Swift box set, it seems, and a Barbie dream home that looks like it cost more than Sydney’s last paycheck). Sydney sits cross legged across from them, watching Carmy delicately hold a Barbie doll in one tattooed hand as Eva brushes out its hair.

Watching him be a good uncle shouldn't be as fucking attractive as it is. It shouldn't be conjuring up vivid images of Carmy holding sleeping babies and cooking family dinners.

God, Sydney is so fucked.

“Speak Now Taylor Barbie is marrying Jacob from Twilight Barbie,” Eva says. “‘Cept I forgot Jacob at Mommy’s house.”

“I see,” Carmy says. Sydney bites back a smile.

“Are you ever gonna get married?” Eva asks, looking up at Carmy.

Sydney’s smile quickly fades.

Carmy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Me?” he says.

“You and Sydney,” Eva says, looking over at Sydney expectantly.

“Uh, maybe,” Carmy says. He’s looking at Sydney too; an expression she can’t read. “I don’t know. Depends on… lots of things.”

“Like what?” Eva asks.

Carmy clears his throat. “Like… whether Sydney puts up with me for long enough for me to ask her?”

“Oh, shut up,” Sydney says, smiling exasperatedly, shaking her head at him. “He’s kidding, Eva.”

“So you are getting married?”

“No,” Sydney says, “no, not right now.”

“When?”

She looks at them with expectant, innocent eyes. Sydney can’t help but laugh.

“Not for a long time,” Carmy says.

"How long?"

Carmy looks away from Sydney, shaking his head like he doesn't know how to answer.

"I don't know," Sydney says, drawing Eva's attention over to her. "Whenever we decide we want to."

"Don't you want to marry him now?" Eva asks sincerely.

Sydney laughs uncomfortably. When she looks over at Carmy, he's looked back up at her. His brow is furrowed slightly. He should be smiling and laughing. This is funny. Objectively. He's taking it way too seriously.

"Yeah," Sydney says, staring at Carmy, raising a taunting eyebrow at him. "Sure I do. But marriage is really complicated so I think we're probably going to wait and see. Right, Carm?"

"Right," Carmy says, with a stiffness to the word like he's in pain. "Yeah, let's not talk about getting married anymore."

Eva frowns.

"It makes him nervous," Sydney stage-whispers to her.

Eva cheers up at that, smiling and nodding knowingly.

"People get nervous when they love each other," Eva says. "Mommy told me."

Sydney scoffs softly, but when she looks at Carmy he isn't smiling. He's just staring back at her, doing that weird, hyper-focused thing where he gets, like, fixated on her face.

It makes her face feel hot.

It makes her nervous.

Fuck.

#the bear #rules for (fake) dating an italian #sydcarmy

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beatrixstonehill2 · 7 months

Text

"You want my chest to be like this?" Sophie asked her boyfriend, James, as he did some photos for her Instagram.

"Yes! Just like that.... I think you'd look incredible with a flat chest. I love seeing you press them down like that....."

"You're too much! So you love small boobs, like totally flat chested girls and you swiped right on me? A girl with a GG-Cup?"

"Why not? Your breasts can always be reduced, Sophie. Plus the way you smile when I talk about it tells me you're considering it."

"But we've only been going out a bit over a month! Don't you think this is a bit extreme.....? I have two million followers on Instagram and they totally love my big boobs..... If anything I'd want to go bigger."

"Come on, that's no fun! Imagine how riled up they'd get, especially if you taunted and teased them about getting a reduction."

"That does sound like fun, not gonna lie....."

"Come on, press them down flat, I'll take a few pics, you upload them and say something like 'Who wants to see me go this flat chested?' I bet you'll be surprised how many guys want to see you lose those fat breasts of yours."

Sophie bit her lip, doing as James asked, pressing them down as far as they would go, proudly sticking out her 'flat' chest, smiling. James took the pics and handed Sophie her phone. She uploaded them, watching to see if anybody would even bother reading what she wrote in the description. James told her to wait a few minutes, so Sophie did what any good girlfriend would do and sucked him off, letting him face fuck her as they waited. A couple minutes later she refreshed, skimming through the comments as he pounded her throat, puke now on her breasts, a string of it hanging from her chin as she eagerly let him continue to pound away, eager to satisfy his urges.

Her eyes lit up as he kept going, coughing up yet more of her lunch, dressing her boobs with this mess he loved to parade her around wearing, and she more than happily wore..... She smiled as he pounded like crazy, reading the comments. Two thirds were positive, mostly men telling her to chop off her boobs, to please record the surgery live, to go as flat as possible. The other third called her a useless slut or an idiot for doing this, that her boobs were the only thing that mattered about her.

James stopped, his cock still lodged down her throat. "Well?" he asked.

Sophie tried to speak but gagged another big strand of puke down her chin. So she eagerly nodded.

"I take it that means you plan on getting your big fat titties chopped off?"

She nodded even more enthusiastically.

James grabbed Sophie's pigtails and face fucked her super hard, finally cumming down her throat after another minute, pulling out as she gasped for air, covered in sweat, vomit, and drool. He slapped her face a few times in quick succession as she winced. "Now then, what say you and I celebrate you becoming flat chested, my new favorite pet? I was thinking a nice, sleazy bar to show you off in, and maybe if you're lucky I'll let you get fucked by a few bikers again."

She cough up a bit more and smiled. "Sounds perfect! Thank you so much for treating me so well! Let's find a surgeon who will make me flat chested as soon as possible! I can't wait to see myself with almost no boobs..... and I can't wait to see how crazy it drives you." She giggled as he took her hand, walking her out the door in just her panties, barefoot, her huge breasts, soon to be flattened, bounced like crazy, covered in puke, exposed for everyone to see.....

#breast reduction kink #breast shrinking kink #body modification kink #puking #humiliation kink

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a-not-so-clean-blog · 8 months

Text

Nu carnival kinks ♠️

Mostly just spicy but Karu and Morvay are a bit explicit

Yakumo

Ok ok, hear me out… bondage. He is scared of intimacy and also scared of his own power, so what better way than to symbolically take away his power. He knows if he asks then you'll stop immediately, but something about the soft bindings holding his wrists above his head and having someone else be able to take complete control is very enticing to him. Soft words and firm actions coming from his partner is definitely what he enjoys the most.

Edmond

Praise kink. Both giving and receiving. He's got a need to please and if you whisper how good he makes you feel in his ear he's going to have to struggle not to cum instantly. Even though he loves knowing how good he's doing, he also loves hair pulling. He loves a partner who can be a little dominant, and the feeling of you lacing your fingers through his long hair and giving a slight tug drives him absolutely crazy.

Olivine

He's a masochist. This isn't even a headcanon, it's just canon. He's more of a fan of getting his nipples pinched and choking than he is spanking. There's something exciting about the amount he has to trust somebody to let them do this to him. He also enjoys a fair amount (or unfair amount) of teasing. Really build up his longing before you finally let him do anything about it.

Quincy

Primal play and all the perks that go with it. This includes marking, biting, domination, ECT. He doesn't let himself indulge in his instincts for fear of hurting his partner. Most of the time sex with him is slow, careful, and loving. It will take some work but you can convince him to let out more of his primal side. Despite his fear of losing himself he can still snap back to reality if he thinks he's pushed you too far. It will take a few sessions for him to actually be able to let himself go completely, but when he does he's not going to stop until you are both completely spent.

Kuya

He has a thing for watching you contort in pleasure. The way your eyebrows knit together and your mouth gapes open like a silent prayer because of him. He loves it so much. To get in the mood he loves to watch you play with yourself before he finally jumps in. Bringing a mirror into the bedroom also really gets him going because he can watch you from every angle. He also loves teasing you and may make you watch yourself in the mirror as he fucks you before he lets you cum. Toys and orgasm denial are also huge turn ons for him. Basically he loves to tease you and the more reactions he can pull from you the better.

Blade

Not so much a kink but he loves if you set the mood. He doesn't quite realize that he enjoys being pampered. Soft blankets and fluffy pillows beneath him, the soft glow of lamplight, it all makes him feel loved and that love turns to excitement.

Garu

Not sure if this counts as a kink but he loves when you moan his name. To him it's the sweetest sound in the world and makes him so hard. To him a vocal partner is a happy partner and he loves to make you happy!

Karu

Breeding kink. I still think he's verse so either he wants to fill your guts with his seed or you fill his until it's dripping down his thigh. Just the anticipation of it is enough to make him a bit feral. If that doesn't work for you though he also has a secret soft spot. His ears and tail are extremely sensitive and if you even just brush your hand over his fur he'll just melt. Nip his ears if he denies it and watch how red his face gets

Dante

The idea of getting caught excites him, but not quite to the point of exhibition. This mostly manifests as marking each other. Scratch marks down his back and hickeys on your shoulders and neck. The way you get flustered if anybody asks about the “bug bite” on your neck gets him all sorts of riled up. Same if he notices anybody noticed the scratches on him, his people are smart enough not to mention it but the idea that they know gets him excited. Sometimes he'll make sure to leave the door unlocked just to make you nervous. He knows nobody's going to dare disturb him in the limited down time he gets, but the thought that someone might…

Rei

Dirty talk and overstimulation. Dirty talk is self explanatory, but preferably he wants dirty banter between the two of you. Being honest about every dirty thought that goes through your head. Letting each other peek into the others desires. With the overstimulation, that's for him. He loves the feeling of his orgasm building and denies himself release until he truly can't hold back. This can be a bit frustrating for you if he tops because suddenly he'll just stop moving so he can get down from the edge, but when he does stop he's going to lean in real close and tell you exactly how he's feeling in the filthiest words you have ever heard.

Eiden

Yes. Eiden is well practiced in most kinks, and so far he hasn't found one he didn't enjoy at least a little. Being a switch also gives him opportunities to try more things. His only real turn off is when someone is being genuinely mean. Teasing and finding his partners' limits are both big turn ons for him though.

Aster

Unpopular opinion but Aster is a dom who loves presentation. Get into something skimpy with barely a gift ribbon covering your crotch, and sit on the bed ready and waiting for him. Maybe throw some rose petals around to help the mood. Aster lives for pageantry, and loves having you completely willing and eager for his touch. The sense of ego it gives him is unmatched.

Morvay

Cum play and whatever you enjoy most. He's very adaptable and because of his status as an incubus he gets so much physical pleasure from his partners physical pleasure. He wants your cum on him, he wants it in his mouth, in his ass, anywhere you want. If you let him cum in your mouth he will kiss you just to taste himself on your lips. Any cum that gets on you, whether it's yours or his, he will lick clean. Never wanting to waste a single drop.

#Nu carnival Yakumo #nu carnival Edmond #nu carnival olivine #nu carnival Quincy #nu carnival Kuya #nu carnival Garu #nu carnival Dante #nu carnival Rei #nu carnival Aster #nu carnival Morvay #nu carnival Eiden #nu carnival x reader #nu carnival #a degenerate writes #♠️

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

Q. Hughes - Plus One

✄————————————

Quinn Hughes x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning(s): Implied smut, little make-out, some seducing, other than that just general fluff

Proofread Once

—————————————

“They are just so in love, I remember when we looked at each other like that.”

I had asked Quinn to attend this wedding with me. I thought by the look on his face the day I did ask, that he would have immediately said no.

“It’s just a family wedding, please?”

“I don’t know…” he seemed to contemplate the idea for a while before agreeing. “As long as you don’t leave me alone anywhere.”

It was a promise I could make. We rented a house and flew out to the Florida Keys together on a Monday. After a bit of discussion, Quinn and I decided to turn the wedding weekend into a vacation week. He said he was excited for the time on the beach away from family or friends. Excluding myself of course. We spent the said week finding restaurants to eat at, mini golfing, swimming, watching endless movies, and learning how to mix drinks. By the time Saturday came, Quinn was sitting on the couch opposite of me, massaging my feet in his lap, and telling me how excited he was to meet my family. A contrast to the beginning of the week when he wanted nothing to do with anybody.

“Are you ready yet?” Quinn called from the bottom floor, his voice easily heard from the loft master bedroom we had agreed to share only because this had been the last house that wasn’t booked on the week we needed it. I looked myself over one last time, a short baby blue dress with Birkenstock sandals. I curled my hair and applied a small amount of makeup to avoid sweating it off on the beach during the ceremony. I adjusted the rings on my fingers and fixed my necklace before I heard Quinn making his way up the steps. A nervous smile painted my lips.

When he made it to the top, I turned to look at him. Quinn smiled at me, looked me over, then blushed. I was doing too much of my own looking to even notice the flush in his cheeks. I was far more focused on the curls in his long hair, and the flutter of his lashes.

“You look good.” It was sudden, the way I began to feel as though the room heated up. I clasped my hands together in front of myself and let out a low sigh. “Are you ready now?” He looked impressed with how long it had taken me to get ready.

“Yeah.. sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. But four hours or one wouldn’t have made much a difference.” He smirked at the confusion on my face. “You’d look beautiful all the same.” Quinn and I were used to complimenting each other, but it felt especially good when I got as dolled up as I had. He held his hand out for me, and I approached slowly to grab it.

“I’m surprised some guy didn’t beat me to this.”

“Correction, you should be surprised I asked you first.” I teased, smiling at the soft laugh that fell from his lips.

“Thought I would have been your first option.” Quinn spoke as he guided me down the steps.

“You technically were, but I know how busy your family is with playoffs going on, and I didn’t want to steal you from all that.”

Quinn glanced back at me. “I’m kinda glad you did.” I hadn’t been expecting his answer.

“Really?”

“My parents- all they ever do is talk about Jack and Luke right now. And I get it. It’s their moment- but it’s nice to have something of my own going on. Ya know?” I squeezed his hand and smiled softly.

“I get it. It sucks when you’re the oldest sibling and the younger ones are doing all the things people expected you to do first.” I liked to think I was a breath of fresh air for Quinn. That our mutual understanding of being oldest siblings was what drew him to me, and he had told me so on multiple occasions.

The drive to the parking lot closest to the beach was a short one. It was rented out and packed full of cars. People were standing around talking, smiling and laughing, jovial as ever. With Quinn’s own family, I knew he would have been just as excited. But I could tell the moment I peeked at him, he was tense.

“Quinny,” I chided.

“What if they don’t like me? Jack says I have an RBF. What if they think I’m judging them?”

“You haven’t met my younger sister yet.” I shook my head. “My family is accustomed to quiet grumpy types.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Quinn turned the car off and turned to me.

“Just a little, Quinner.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at me before climbing out of the car. I was swift to follow. We met each other around the trunk of the rental. I straightened Quinn’s tie before I heard the squeal of a child and the little girls arms wrap around my legs from behind.

“She’s here!”

Introducing Quinn to my family was as hot of a mess as it could get. I had to tell each individual person that we weren’t dating, only for them to nod their heads in mocking disbelief when Quinn would rest his hand on my lower back and follow me around like a lost puppy. He did me no favors in convincing anybody we were friends. He did some talking on his own, but introductions and excited conversations ceased when the large group of family and friends of the bride and groom, began down the boardwalk to the beach. Quinn and I remained near the back of the group, and we remained there even when we sat down in the pews. The few people around us turned to speak occasionally, but Quinn and I were in our own little world.

Until it was invaded by the great grandparents of the bride and groom.

“Well don’t you look hot.” I’d met Goldie a handful of times. She was always a bit.. lacking in filter. An old woman still able to walk, and hell I’d bet fifty bucks she could still run too. She was lively and sweet, but headstrong all the same.

“Thank you,” I laughed softly, dragging my hand down the front of my dress, adjusting the low neckline that dipped quite far.

“I remember when I was your age. I loved dressing like that. My husband loved it too.” That brought laughter from the two men seated beside us. I glanced back at Quinn with a knowing smile.

“I used to have one dress in particular, that got him all kinds of riled up. Always wore that one when I wanted something.” Sometimes one could only laugh at the woman’s lack of privacy. Which was what Quinn and I both did.

“Grandma!” The bride’s aunt immediately turned around from the seat in front of us. Goldie looked forward with an innocent expression. “They don’t want to hear that.”

“I was just giving some advice to this lovely girl. I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Goldie defended herself.

“Did she ask for it?” The woman in the row in front of us questioned.

“She didn’t have to. I could tell by the look on her face, she needed it. Her boyfriend could probably use a bit too.”

“Oh- we’re not.. together.” I quickly corrected, tensing at my own words. I always wished we were, but Quinn and I had been strictly friends since the dawn of time.

Goldie eyed us with a blank expression, then scoffed, rolled her eyes, and waved her hand in a dismissive motion. Her silver bracelets clinked.

“You will be.”

The music started, and all conversation quieted, then eventually ceased. I adjusted myself in my seat, my knees pressed into the side of Quinn’s thigh since he sat on the edge of the pew. I was turned toward the isle to see the bridesmaids come down with the groomsmen.

“Look how pretty she is,” I whispered excitedly as the first, mine and the bride’s mutual friend, came down.

“She’s okay.” Quinn mumbled in return. I gently swatted his thigh before my hand came to rest there.

“Don’t be rude.” I countered, though a piece of my confidence was boosted by his response. He told me I looked great today, but he wouldn’t compliment that girl. The one in an exquisite dress, walking down the aisle. Quinn couldn’t possibly have a thing for me…

“She’s beautiful too.” This time, it was spoken in more a coaxing way. My gaze flickered go Quinn while the next woman walked down the aisle. Watching the way his gaze lingered before he looked away. Uninterested, but trying to seem invested.

“She’s not really my type.” I hated how excited I got, and I hated even more so how hard I found it not to smile when his eyes met mine. I hadn’t known I was leaning into his personal space until we both realized how close our faces were. I slowly leaned back and laughed softly.

“Sorry.. I’m just excited.”

“It’s okay.” Quinn rested his hand atop my own and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Weddings are exciting.”

Once the pairs reached the end of the aisle, the new song started, and everybody rose. I gently removed my hand from Quinn’s to rest on his chest, pushing very slightly. He stepped back until his legs were pressed against the pew seat, trying to give me room to see. The moment she passed, I was beaming. One of my best friends, my closest family friend for the longest time. We used to daydream about getting married together. I was elated to see her dream coming true. Marriage was all she’d ever hoped for as a little girl. Her perfect wedding. Perfect husband. Perfect life.

“Wow,” I whispered as I felt Quinn’s arm wrap around my back.

“Why don’t you sit on the outside? So you can see better?” Such a subtle thing, but one I couldn’t help but appreciate immensely. Quinn and I shuffled around one another, and sat down once we were permitted to do so. Then the ceremony began. Quinn draped his arm over the back of the pew, and I found myself leaning into his side as time passed by. Occasionally he’d whisper something to me. Point something out or make a quiet joke that only the two of us understood. We’d giggle quietly and share eye contact, then giggle some more. At one point I started gently pulling sideways on his tie to make it crooked. He’d readjust it and roll his eyes. Then, eventually, he gave up with my antics and grabbed my other hand to keep it still. Quinn was never as grumpy as people made him out to be. It simply took the right type of person to make him happy and content.

When the ceremony ended, the chaos began once again. Quinn and I tried to avoid it for the most part, content to sit and watch everybody talk and laugh, and take their turns congratulating the bride and groom. I would do so at some point, but I was in no rush when there was one hell of a reception following.

We spoke with a few others, then Quinn and I slipped away to go back to our car. I was too excited to notice the way I grabbed Quinn’s hand and dragged him back to the boardwalk. He didn’t seem to mind anyhow.

“I loved that dress on her- god she was so beautiful, Quinn.” I babbled on, and he listened with a smile on his face.

“What kind of dress do you want?” His question caught me off guard, and my head swiftly snapped in his direction.

“What?”

“When you get married,” he explained. “What dress do you want to wear?”

“Oh god Quinn. I have so many things- something that flows- but preferably something I can pin up so I don’t step on the skirt at my reception. And I want a top with lace sleeves- or no sleeves at all.”

“Backless?” He cut in.

“Backless, for sure.” I agreed as we made it back to the car. Quinn opened my door for me, and I thanked him before slipping into the vehicle. We waited to leave until most others began to do so. We followed the bulk of the wedding traffic to the reception venue. A big shoreside building that had indoor and outdoor seating, a beautiful view of the ocean, and all the drinks one could want.

When we arrived, Quinn and I gave our names to the hostess and found our seats. The tables were round, decorated in white lace tablecloths. Each seat was accompanied by an empty plate and an upside down champagne glass, as well as a notecard with one’s name and a thank you note written on it. The lights were dim, the music turned on low.

“I’m starving.” Quinn muttered, and I could only laugh at how much he sounded like Jack. Even Luke. Those boys were always hungry.

“Patience.” I reminded. Thankfully, Quinn didn’t need too much of that. The bridal party came in, soon the bride and groom followed. A round of applause and cheering took place before everyone was seated and tables were called left and right to be served. Quinn and I found relief in knowing we were sat at a table with Goldie and her husband Frank. I was even more so relieved to know Quinn enjoyed their presences. That RBF he spoke of was nowhere in sight the moment Frank struck up a conversation with him.

The food was eaten, speeches spoken, cake cut. The main traditional festivities were long forgotten once the dance floor was opened up and people really began to party. Goldie dragged Frank off to the dance floor, and Quinn and I were left in a fit of laughter at the sight of his helpless expression.

Quinn wouldn’t say it, but there was a look of familiarity on his face. I was always dragging him around like that. And no matter how hard he tried to act like he hated it, he loved it.

“I’m gonna go get a refill on this champagne. Did you want anything from the bar?” I asked as I rested my hand on Quinn’s back. He shook his head and smiled at me.

“Just don’t leave me alone too long.”

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” I reached out to ruffle his hair before reminding myself he spent far too long on it in the bathroom for me to put his hour of work to waste. So I withdrew my hand and laughed softly, taking my glass and waltzing off to the bar. The woman there was kind, striking up a conversation that lasted well after she finished pouring me a fresh glass of champagne. She asked of my relation to the bride, how I was enjoying the party, if the wedding went well.

By the time we finished speaking, I had to fight my way back through the standing crowd to find Quinn. He hadn’t moved an inch, but my brow furrowed the second I spotted the distress on his face.

“Quinn!” I called, catching his attention as I arrived at the table. He turned his phone off and set it face down on the surface. I didn’t know which question to ask first. Is he okay? Did something happen? Was his family alright? “You look tense.” I decided not to ask a question at all.

“I’m fine.” He dismissed my statement with one of his own. I shook my head.

“Open up, Quinn. What’s going on?” I set my glass down and turned my seat to face his own before I sat down. Quinn let out a quiet sigh and shrugged.

“My mom texted. Said the Devils lost tonight. It’s their third game in a row now. One more and they’re out.”

“I see.”

“Jack’s gonna be devastated.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, rubbing his face as if it might erase the stress. Stress that wasn’t even his own.

“Quinn.” I caught his attention. “You don’t have to carry the weight on your brother’s shoulders all the time. I understand you want to be there, but- sometimes it’s okay to not worry about it.” I reached out to wrap my hand around his wrist. “How many times did you clean his boo-boos?”

“Too many.”

“And how many times did you sit with him until he fell asleep? Because there was a monster under his bed.”

“A lot.”

“You were there for him when USA didn’t win gold. You were there for him when his first girlfriend broke his heart. Hell, you were there for most of his rookie year. Quinn, you throw away all of your time for your brothers. I know you do it out of choice.. and you’re the most selfless person I know, but please.. just this once. Worry about it later.” I searched his eyes for any indication that he’d give in. Throw in the towel and have a good time. A piece of me expected him not to, especially when he sighed and picked up his phone. But then he turned it off. Then he set it back down, and reached for my hand.

“Come dance with me.” Then I realized, I finally convinced Quinn Hughes, to just forget about it. Jack probably wouldn’t even call for a while anyway. He’d have Luke. He’d have his team to lean on. Quinn’s number would hopefully be the last on his list of lifelines.

“You’re supposed to ask, not demand.” I slipped my hand into his own and we stood up.

“I’ll ask when we get outside.”

“Outside?”

“The sun is setting, there’s barely anyone out there, and enough space to dance without feeling squeezed in with everybody else.” Quinn explained as his gaze drifted toward the large windows of the venue. “Don’t make me stand around all those people.” He pleaded, and I giggled at the antisocial behavior I was used to seeing from him.

“Alright, weirdo.” I let him drag me off, swiping up my glass of champagne before I got too far from it. Quinn led me outside, past the propped open doors, and found a clear space for the two of us to dance. Only when he glanced back at me, did he wrinkle his nose at my occupied hand- holding my champagne.

“Dude,” there was a playful yet judgmental tone in his voice.

“You haven’t even tried it.” I held the glass out.

“Cuz I don’t wanna be drunk tonight.” He smiled, scoffing.

“How’s come?” I taunted.

“Because I wanna remember all of this. I wanna be completely sober, so I can remember the way you look. Right here… right in front of me, in that beautiful dress, and with the most beautiful smile, and those beautiful eyes.” I was speechless, my breath caught somewhere in my throat as a wide smile parted my lips. It almost hurt my cheeks.

“Okay well..” I paused. “Tipsy isn’t drunk.” Was I avoiding the compliments? The flirting? Possibly.

“Tipsy is still hazy.” Quinn argued as he rested his hands on my hips. “And I’d never want a single memory of you to be hazy.”

I placed my free hand on his shoulder, smiling uncontrollably at his words. The Hughes brothers may have sounded like men of few words when it came to the media, but Quinn certainly had a way with his.

“Quintin Hughes,” I turned my head to the side, resting my cheek against his chest. Quinn set the pace as he slowly began to sway, my body following suit within his hold. “Where’d this come from?”

“Years of loving you.” The words were spoken so softly that I had completely missed them. I squeezed his shoulder.

“Speak up, Q.”

“I love you.” The initial shock left me silent. His grip on my hips tightened. In anticipation, fear of rejection, hope and relief. I slowly lifted my head, looking up at him in wonder. My hand slid from his shoulder toward the back of his neck. A nervous smile formed on Quinn’s lips.

“Sorry,” he laughed out awkwardly. I shook my head in disapproval for his apology.

“No. No, Quinn please don’t take that back.” I set my glass of champagne aside on the nearest table. “I’ve waited forever to hear you say that, please don’t take it back now.” I wrapped my other arm around his shoulders. His smile eased into a genuine one. Our hearts beat quickly, our embrace tightened, bodies impossibly close, pressed to one another. As if the thought of parting would simply kill us.

“I won’t, then.” Quinn dipped his head toward my own. Our noses brushed, causing quiet bouts of laughter to erupt from lips that locked within seconds. Laughter silenced, though it was impossible to remain lip-locked for long when we could barely contain our smiles.

“You’re gonna make me look like a liar,” I whispered against his lips.

“Cause you kept telling everybody we weren’t dating?” Quinn pulled back only slightly, to look me in the eyes.

“Yeah.” I laughed softly.

“Technically we’re still not dating.” His smile was contagious, but not quite as enjoyable as kissing him. I moved my hands to hold his face, guiding his lips back to my own. I never would have guessed it would take a week alone with him to get him to open up, nor would I have guessed Quinn ever would have liked me. We took our time before pulling back, sighing before drawing in our own breaths of air. Quinn reached out to push a few locks of hair from my face, tucking it securely behind my ear.

“Two days.” He thought aloud.

“Two days?”

“Until I have to take you back.” He clarified. “Two days until we’re apart for two weeks.”

“It’s just two weeks, Quinner.” I assured.

“Then we have the lake house.” He reminded both himself and me.

“The lake house, and I’m coming back to Michigan with you. Don’t forget.”

“Do you have to go to Europe?”

“I already told my girlfriends I would.” I laughed, running my thumbs over his cheekbones. “You’ll be fine for two weeks.”

“Two weeks with Luke- maybe Jack.. and my parents. They’ll drive me insane.”

“You act like your family is unbearable.” I wrapped my arms around Quinn’s shoulders again.

“They’re okay,” he joked with a shrug. I laughed and leaned forward to kiss his jaw. “I’ll be counting the days too. But let’s focus on these two days, yeah?”

“Movie night tonight?” He asked, his hands drifting past my lips to wrap around my back.

“You just confessed your love to me, and you wanna watch movies?” I whispered with an amused smile.

“Did you have something else in mind?” I could tell by the look in his eyes, that he caught on. He was merely playing hard to get.

“Take me home and find out.” Quinn’s smile widened before he stepped away and held his hand out for my own.

“Now?” He asked.

“Now.” I clarified.

“Come on.” He urged, his excitement unmatched. I grabbed his hand, and we practically rushed through the building to get our personal belongings. Quinn draped his suit jacket over my shoulders, held my clutch for me, and out the doors we went.

We made occasional conversation on the drive back to our house, but we were far too focused on what was to come, to be truly invested in a discussion. When we got to the house, Quinn told me not to get out of the car. Confused by his words, but deciding to trust him, I sat patiently while he got out and ran around the hood of the car. If only I’d taken a video of how funny he looked.

My smile practically reached my ears when he opened my car door and held his arms out.

We weren’t the newlyweds, but I still let him carry me like a princess to the front door. I was on key duty, unlocking and opening the door so he could carry me inside. He kicked the door shut behind us, and I shuttered when I felt his lips on my neck.

“Quinn,” his name fell from my lips in surprise, want laced in my tone.

“I’m gonna set you down.” He whispered in warning before he gently placed my feet on the ground. He kicked his shoes off by the door, and knelt down to undo the buckles of my sandals. His hair was finally fair game, so I leaned forward and ran my hands through it while he slipped off my first shoe. Quinn pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh, and my grip on his hair tightened momentarily, before he worked on the second shoe.

“Hurry up,” I urged just as he slipped my second shoe off. He trailed lazy kisses up my leg, stopping at the hem of my skirt before he stood up, quiet chuckles falling from both our lips when his nose got caught on the fabric of my skirt, pulling it up only slightly before I had fixed the fabric and leaned into his grip. His hands found my hips, and his lips- they certainly found mine as well. Quinn’s hands slipped down my back, nipping at my lip. When his hands found the bottom of his suit jacket, he tugged it off and let it hit the floor, one of the buttons clacking against the hard wood. I pulled away before his wandering hands could get anywhere else.

“Come on,” Quinn groaned out. I stood just out of reach, a challenging smirk on my lips. It took him a second to catch on, but when he did, he reached for me. I stepped out of his reach again, and soon it became a game of chase. An effective way to lead him up the steps toward the loft bedroom. Quinn’s hand grazed my ankle toward the last step, and a worried shout fell from my lips before I got up and out of his reach again. I heard him mumble a, ‘Damnit.’ But he hadn’t anticipated my immediate halt, and our bodies collided. He held onto me tightly, assuring myself and himself that I wouldn’t fall.

“Finally.” Quinn smirked, and I began to laugh when his lips found my neck. “Stop that,” he whispered against my skin.

“A little ticklish I guess.” I whispered, surprised by his actions once again when I heard the zipper of my dress being undone. He was good at this. I rested my hands against Quinn’s chest and slowly pushed him back. My dress looked much looser with the zipper undone, but it was the last thing I was worried about. I reached for the buttons on Quinn’s shirt, making quick work of them and pulling the white dress shirt out from his pants. I was too focused to notice the way he was staring at me until my gaze flickered up to meet his own. I had just begun to slip the shirt from his shoulders when I took note of the look in his eyes.

“What?” I paused my movements, my hands resting on the edges of his shoulders.

“Nothin’. You just look so beautiful.” I nodded and silently continued to push his shirt off.

“Take me to bed, Hughes.” I gave in, a gasp leaving my lips when he hoisted me up by my hips and walked me over to the bed. He was gentle when he set me down, and even gentler when he laid me out, leaning over me and kissing me once again.

“You got it, beautiful.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb

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lonesome-sometimes · 6 months

Text

wheels on the bus

I promise I don’t have a thing for matty being a married man this was just a very real experience for me minus most of it

suddenly a man climbs on and interrupts, giving a series of apologies to both the driver and the people he kept waiting. you would be annoyed if he wasn’t so hot, tight black jumper and unruly curls sitting on his head like a halo. suddenly, the woman from before is waving him down towards the back of the bus and your heart sinks.

that’s her fucking husband?

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: face fucking, sub matty, teasing, semi-public sex, cheating, age gap

minors do not interact!

If you knew that you would be stuck on a bus for as long as you were, you wouldn’t have even bothered travelling but the world seemed to hate you that day and was throwing every possible obstacle towards you.

luckily for you, the seat next to you had managed to stay empty for most of the trip which was always a blessing. you were pulling into the second stop of the journey when you quickly realised that was about to come to an end, the queue far too long with too little seats left.

you force yourself to seem as unapproachable as possible when you feel someone tap your shoulder, turning to see a dark haired woman smiling at you almost condescendingly. you pull one side of your headphones to the side so it sits behind your ear, still looking at her dumbfounded. you weren’t in the mood, your day had been long enough.

“Is it okay if my husband sits here? he’s coming now, he just is putting our bags away but I’m going to sit in front of this seat and I want to be able to sit near him. my husband won’t be a bother-“ every word went in one ear and out of the other, the word husband suddenly becoming the worst word in the entire dictionary and the shiny diamond on her finger painfully obvious. how charming.

you nod, turning your body and sliding your headphones back on for the simple pleasure of drowning out most of the noise of the other passengers, your music staying paused. the driver stands up, a tall man who seemed far too young and cool looking to be stuck driving some bus on a saturday. “I know this situation isn’t really ideal for anybody, but I promise to speed and get you all where you need to be. please just shout at me if you need anything, my name is george and-“ suddenly a man climbs on and interrupts, giving a series of apologies to both the driver and the people he kept waiting. you would be annoyed, feeling deserving of an apology to if he wasn’t so hot, tight black jumper and unruly curls sitting on his head like a halo. you turn your attention to the woman from before, waving him down towards the back of the bus and your heart sinks.

that’s her fucking husband?

his face lights up at the sight of her, making his way down towards where the empty seat is and sliding down next to you. he shoots you a quick, kind smile before turning his full attention to his wife to your dismay, leaning over the top of her seat and stroking her hair. the whole situation was just sad really, he was far too good for her but you can see why she was so obsessed with using the word husband beforehand.

you were in for the hardest two hours of your life.

you couldn’t even focus on your music, abandoning it all together and hour into the drive in favour of hearing his hushed voice instead. he was currently resting his chin on the top of her seat, eyes crinkling as he smiled at something she said. he pushed a hand through his hair, the sleeves of his jumper pushing up slightly to reveal some tattoos on his wrists causing your eyes to widen, becoming curious as to how many tattoos he had and where.

another hour of torture goes by, the man next to you seeming to be so sickly in love that it started to make you somewhat mad. he was fully leaning around her seat now, his face close to hers as they talked quietly. you decided to just try and ignore them alltogether, reopening spotify when you hear him speak.

“radiohead? great choice! I didn’t know they were still popular with the kids these days.” you turn to see him smiling at you, not even realising he had moved and being absolutely dumbfounded that he’s suddenly speaking to you. he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck causing you to notice the crinkles by his eyes for the first time. “god, that makes me sound so old doesn’t it? sorry I wasn’t meaning to bother you-“

“no!” you suddenly exclaim, realising how crazy you sounded. you regain your composure, side eyeing his wife who was not in her seat. he must notice your curiosity because he speaks up again. “we’re stopping for a bathroom break, the kids on board must have been pissing the driver off, do you want me to move?” he attempts to stand but you grab his wrist, pulling him back down.

“I’m good, thank you for letting me know.” you try and sound as sweet as possible, smiling softly while rubbing the soft material of his jumper between your fingertips. “you’re not bothering me at all, you’re actually the first person I’ve spoke to all day.”

he looks down at your hand on his jumper and you swear you see a blush spread across his face, a stray curl falling forward as he does. you start feeling a little lightheaded, almost letting your thoughts get the better of you. you drop his jumper, moving to push the curl back away from his face but he moves too suddenly, shaking his head to organise his thoughts.

you turn to see his wife climbing back on the bus, that condescending smile from before returning as she sees you both. they start chatting again, forcing you to return back to your petty mood and making a show of it, crossing your arms and letting your music flow through your ears. you through two minutes of karma police before you physically cannot take it anymore, pulling your headphones off and turning to the couple next to you.

“I’m so sorry if I’m overstepping, but you guys are just so cute together. how long have you been married?” you smile too wide to be genuine, voice sickly sweet as your attention focuses solely on the man. his wife leans around her seat and looks at you like you had offended her, but takes the opportunity to obsess over the word husband once more.

“well my husband and I have actually been married for about three years, is that right matty? I think so.” she smiles at him, playing with his fingers awaiting his answer. you don’t really care what she has to say, the name matty bouncing around your brain and how it would sound coming off of your tongue. he continues to look at you, completely taken back by your boldness before clearing his throat.

“yeah we erm, we have been married a while now. we actually just got back from our two year anniversary vacation, you should know that darling.” he speaks to her, almost seeming sad that she had forgotten. she just laughs, announcing that milestones mean nothing so long as she has him. you could almost feel your eyes rolling back into your head and not in the way you were imagining.

he smiles awkwardly at you. they went back to talking between themselves, your brain racing with ideas and images. you think for a little while, coming up with a truly awful plan. you had found something you wanted and with the day you were having you deserved some excitement.

you wait a few minutes, waiting for the right moment before beginning. “I’m sorry, I just need to grab my charger in my bag. I’ll just-“ you stand up, causing matty and his wife to stop talking and look up at you as you begin to climb over his legs. you silently thank the driver for suddenly going over a bump in the road, causing you to trip and fall directly into his lap.

his hands fly up out of instinct, grabbing your waist and holding you there for a moment. you can feel the bulge in his pants pressing up against you, moving so your hips grind down on him as you stand up again. “god, matty! I am so sorry! I lost my balance, I’ll just grab my charger and I’ll stop being a bother, again I’m so sorry to interrupt.” you lie through your teeth, reaching up to grab your charger out of your bag in the overhead compartment while making sure your tshirt rides up directly in front of his face, exposing your lower stomach and a strip of your lace underwear that was hidden beneath your pants. you pretend to look for your charger for a good few minutes, giving him a show as you did.

you eventually find what you were looking for, making eye contact with him as you climb back over into your seat. you bite your lip as you look down at his crotch, the bulge more prominent than before. you feel powerful, causing a married man to fold at practically nothing.

you get comfortable again, scrolling through instagram when he suddenly speaks for the first time in the last twenty minutes. “god, when did it get so fucking hot in here?” he laughs sheepishly again, pulling his jumper over his head and shoving it in his lap to cover up his problem.

granting you your wish, you could finally see the wrist tattoos from before as well as the many others. his arms were toned, covered in artwork that looked so beautiful and hot at the same time. his curls had become messy through his hands constantly playing with it and the jumper being pulled over.

the bus keeps driving for another ten minutes, the longest ten minutes of both yours and his life, before pulling in at another service station. george stands up, announcing that the bus would be here for thirty minutes and that if you weren’t back in time he would drive off and leave you, causing the kids at the front who must be driving him mad to giggle and pull faces.

matty suddenly stands up, announcing to his wife that he was running to the bathroom and to grab them both a snack, urging her to stay there. perfect.

you let him get a five minute head start before standing up, not even acknowledging the woman as you make your way off the bus and towards the bathrooms where you see matty push the door open. you rush after him, causing the the door to fly open. you both stand in the middle of the service station bathroom, the tension thick and heavy in the air.

he swallows, rubbing his arm and avoiding your eyes as he speaks up first. “can…can I help you?” he asks, his voice coming out strained and broken which only causes you to giggle. you move further into the room, crowding him up against the tiled wall.

“I’m not sure matty, can I help you at all?” you smirk, lips so close to his own as you speak you could feel the shaky breaths on your face. he swallows again, eyes avoiding yours as he shakes his head.

“I’m married, I shouldn’t be…” he trails off as you push your body up against his, cocking your head to the side as you lick your lips and grab the shape of his cock through his pants. he lets out a breath, relaxing against the wall as you start stroking him through the fabric softly. interesting.

“I’m sorry, you were saying?” you ask innocently, knowing what you were doing by now, the effect you were having on him. he closes his eyes, letting his head hit the tile with a thud before he looks down at you through his lashes. up close, he’s so much prettier than you had realised. you wanted to ruin him and have him ruin you at the same time.

“please.” he breathes out, taking you by surprise as he pushes his hips up until your hand and parts his lips. “please just touch me.” he begs, and how could you say no to that?

you move your head and steal his lips in a soft kiss, his lips parting instantly and letting you control the situation. this isn’t what you were picturing when he first stepped onto the bus, but after the mood you had been in you can’t say you’re unsatisfied with the turn of events. you move to unzip his trousers, shoving them down his legs and pulling his cock out of his underwear.

fucking hell. you weren’t expecting that.

he breaths are heavy, eyes wide as he waits patiently for you to do something. you think for a moment, deciding what you want to do with the little time you had. you started mouthing at his jaw being careful not to leave any marks to save him some face, his neck and down his torso until you’re forced to get on your knees so that you’re face to face with his leaking cock.

he leans his head back against the wall again, his hands finding refuge in your hair as he lets out a choked moan at the sight of you on your knees for him. If only you had more time, you’d spend hours torturing him, his sweet breathy moans quickly becoming your favourite sound.

that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun right now.

“I thought you were married, hm? your poor little wife, sitting on that bus completely unaware that her husband of two years is letting a young, innocent girl get him off. don’t you feel bad?” you tease, lips ghosting the tip of his cock as you speak. he quickly shakes his head, hands moving from your hair to form fists at his sides.

“she…she doesn’t do this for me. we haven’t even…just please?” he begs, his revelation music to your ears. “you don’t know how long it’s been since I…she won’t have sex with me, something to do with-“ he moans as you wrap your lips around his cock, letting the weight of it sit on your tongue as you savour the taste.

you slap his thigh lightly, a silent order for him to keep speaking as you start to suck his cock slowly. “oh fuck, something to do with staying pure…an act of celibacy or some bullshit but I really do love her, I promise.” he continues, emphasising the really with a thrust of his hips, causing his cock to hit the back of your throat, fluttering around him as he whines.

you pull off his length with a pop, lipgloss smeared around the tip of it as you work him with your hand. “that’s such a shame, you’re far too pretty for that. you sound so sweet. If only you were mine, I’d do so much to you.” you lick away precum that had gathered at his tip again, kissing it softly and pulling back again. “hm, how about I let you fuck my throat, since you’ve been such a good boy for me? you deserve to use me, no need to be shy.” you wink, moving your arms behind your back and letting your lips fall open and ready.

he stares at you, completely taken back by what you just offered. he lets himself think for a moment, about the morality of the situation, before shaking his head and grabbing his cock again and shoving it past your lips. clearly deciding that there was no time for questioning his moral compass as he moans loudly, feeling more free as he begins to fuck your throat. he picks up his pace, holding your hair as he whispers sweet nothings like you’re so good for me and so much better than she could ever be, even going as far as to wipe away the tears that had formed around your eyes and saying please don’t cry, you’re too pretty baby, I’m sorry

his hips begin to stutter, a sign that he’s almost there. “please, please let me cum down your throat, I need to cum please let me-” he begs through broken sobs, waiting for a nod of your head before he’s spilling down your throat, his groans echoing around the empty bathroom.

you pull off his cock, his body slumped against the wall as you show him your white covered tongue, swallowing his cum only causing him to moan again. he was such a boy, and you couldn’t really blame him considering what he had just told you. you decide to be nice, tucking him back into his underwear and pulling his pants back up his legs, going as far as to button them back up for him and placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I genuinely don’t think I can move away from this wall.” he admits, blush creeping up his cheeks again as he brings his thumb up to wipe the smeared lipgloss from your face. “thank you for that, and I erm…fuck, I’m sorry? I feel bad that I didn’t-” he says, gesturing towards you.

you shake your head and smile, giggling softly. “don’t worry about me, it seems like you have enough to deal with.”

“you could say that.” he laughs back, checking the time on his watch and letting out a sigh of relief to see that you still had five minutes before you really needed to be back, knowing his kind, thoughtful wife would hold the bus up if needs be. “we still have five minutes, if you really want me to do anything?”

you shake your head again, pulling his hand up into yours and playing with his fingers the same way his wife had done on the bus not long ago, sliding his wedding ring off and on. “I think I’d rather learn more about you? If that’s okay?”

he smiles down at you again and nods, eyes crinkling as he says “well I never actually got to talk to you about radiohead…”

#matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic

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neverchecking · 1 year

Note

Heya! I love your writing style! I see this is a new blog so I hope youre having fun writing all of this!! <3 I wanted to request something with Twilight if that's okay? Id love to see a more sub side to him, everyone writes him as being some sort of a don, but I bet he has his weaknesses too ;) but tbh I'd love anything with twilight ❤ have a nice day and take care of yourself!!

Hi, thank you! I am fairly new to the tumblr scene, so I'm hoping I'm doing okay. I am also having tons of fun so far!

You absolutely can request something with Twilight! Especially sub! Twilight! Take care of yourself as well, darling~

If I become the blog known for turning the Links into subs I will cry /pos

they're just so submissive and breedable yk?

Also since there was no specification on Yandere type, I went, once again, with a softer Yandere! (I know I said mostly but Yandere has me in a hyper fixation chokehold so thats what I will write for now).

Smut so MDNI!

Smut CW: Mentions of slight breeding beforehand, Twilight likes being called a Good Boy, so praise, cunnilingus (I tried keeping it pretty GN, but I did write it with a AFAB! Reader.

Good Doggy

Since his journey to the Twilight Realms and this current one, Twilight had learned several things.

One: Turning into a beast of the Twilight had consequences. Ones he never would've thought about previously.

His appetite had grown exponentially, his senses were beyond heightened (He could hear your every breath, smell you from miles away, see you in the densest of fogs, practically taste you when you leaned in close enough he could feel the heat of your body pressing against his), and he was territorial. Beyond so. And it showed.

It showed in the low growl in his throat when Warriors dared to walk too close to you. In the warning flash of teeth he would show Legend when one of his quips teetered the edge between funny and hurtful. In the absolute glower he would shoot Time when he DARED to pair you with anyone other than him on patrol. You were his, his to care for and to protect. To worship and to glorify. His, his, his, his alone. He didn't share.

Well, not with just anybody. His cub had somehow wiggled his way in, playing around with you in Twilight's sight and that made something else show. Something entirely new. Something that had him yearning to give you your own cub to play and care for. While, yes, Wild was more than capable of taking care of himself, something in Twilight's hindbrain kicked into high gear whenever he saw you mothering over the Champion like it was something you had always done.

It was positively tantalizing.

It had him yearning just to pump you full of seed until you had no choice but to carry. Carry his brood, something that tied you two together for life. And that was really all he needed, wasn't it? To be tied to someone, especially such a divine being like yourself, for life. Tied so you couldn't leave him behind. He couldn't handle being left again. Not by you. He needed you to eat and breath, to exist in a way that kept him going. You were his driving force. His Mate.

Which brought him to his next point.

Two: Turning into a beast of the Twilight had consequences. Ones he never would've bet on himself having.

Because he ached to please you in every way possible. The canine in him just wanted you to be pleased with him, to praise him, to call him your 'Good boy' as you instructed him on what to do. On how to make you shiver against him, on how to make your thighs clench around him, on how to make you think of him and him alone.

Goddess, just the thought of being the sole reason for your relief had an invisible tail thwapping about wildly. Had him drooling. What good could he be if he couldn't please you after all? No good. And that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be your good boy.

No other title mattered.

And finally third.

Three: Turning into a beast of the Twilight had consequences. Ones that were so delicious golden and perfect that he had to thank the light spirits in some way, shape or form for them.

He had stamina now. Nothing could stop him. Not your nails, clawing into his scalp as you gently pulled at his hair. Not your thighs, clutching around his head in a suffocating hold so that he couldn't pull away (Not that he would ever dream of doing so). Not the sounds of your whimpers and whines as you pleaded with him. Pleaded with him to stop, then continue, then faster, more, hold on- Every instruction that spilled from your lips was followed to the absolute T.

Your eyes, dazed and lidded, looked down at him, swimming with lust as you gently combed his hair after ordering him to stop. Take a breath, you said. He didn't want to breath. Not when he could have this alternative. Not when he could die a happy man, being absolutely smothered by you.

"You look so good down there, Twi. Being such a good boy for me."

Your smirk told him that you knew exactly what those words did to him. Not that it wasn't hard to see. He audibly whined, like a canine being denied a treat, craning his neck for just one more lick. Just one more swipe of his tongue to catch just one more hit of you in your purest essence. Just one more please- He'd do absolutely anything for you! You just had to ask! All he asked for in turn was one MORE TASTE-

"I'm not taking it from you, my sweet boy. Just take a breather. Can't have you passing out on me."

Why not? Why not when that was what he wanted? Who needed a breather? Not him. And while you may not have been taking it from him now, you would eventually and he could not squander this moment. That would make him a damned fool.

"There you go, that's my good boy. You're doing so well for me."

He was doing well. You were praising him, bestowing him with your grace for something he was doing!

The second your grip loosened, he was right back to lapping at you, watching you carefully for any sign that you wanted him to change or stop completely. Anything, anything at all. He would follow. You ask him to sit? He is down on the ground. Shake? He'd do it. Speak? He is praising your gospel.

"Good doggy."

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theycallmemisterbutterfingers · 8 months

Text

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places. Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone.

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry.

Well.

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God.

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment.

Guilt.

Horrible, horrible guilt.

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good.

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel.

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light.

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth.

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard.

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him.

His angel. His Az—hm.

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale.

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel.

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped.

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely,

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again.

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly.

And Crowley broke.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body.

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face.

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

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intoanotherworld23 · 1 year

Text

Devil Inside

Pairing: Reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT NSFW 18+, there’s minor smut, description of sex, mention of masturbation, female masturbation, swear words

Length: 2826 words

Summary: Just having moved into your new home in a new town leaving behind everything you knew including your long time crush and best friend, but you quickly find out you aren’t alone cause something lingers in the dark waiting for you

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"Yeah I'm almost settled in now." Pressing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you talked to your best friend Jake. "Just got a few more boxes to unpack."

"I'm just sorry I couldn't help you with the move." He apologized as you placed some more books onto the shelf.

"Jake stop you're even worse than me at unpacking ," you laughed at him remembering that you did all the unpacking for him when he moved, "Besides you had work, and you're already in trouble with them enough as it is."

"That's not fair." He exclaimed on the other end of the phone knowing damn well you were right. "And it's not my fault."

"Bullshit you know it's all your fault." Jake was never one for lying, and you could sense it even over the phone.

"I hate when you're right." He was shaking his head even though you couldn't see.

"You love it." Teasing as you rolled up wrapping paper into a trash bag.

"You sure you don't need me to come down there?" He asked genuine concern in his tone.

"I'm doing just fine all on my own Jake." Standing in the kitchen now leaning your elbows on the countertop.

"I'm just worried since you're there all by yourself." He was always concerned for you, and constantly wanting to make sure you were safe.

"Not even an hour away from you," you laughed at how protective he was, "I think I'll be okay."

"Say the word and I'll be there."

"Roger that captain Seresin." A chuckle was all you received in response.

When Jake had heard that you were moving he was incredibly upset. Telling you over and over again that you couldn't leave him, but when you told him how far away his mood instantly changed. Ecstatic that you weren't going that far, and he could drive to see you all the time. You've been each other's best friends since you were young.

You've had a little crush on Jake for quite some time now, but never expressed those feelings to him. Afraid that he would turn you down, and then it would ruin your friendship. That's why you decided it would be best to just push those feelings deep down inside of you.

Jake would flirt back from time to time, and it made you think he felt the same. Then he would tell you about dates, and you'd be dying a little inside. Wondering what going on dates with him would be like.

Constantly imagining how soft and plump his lips would feel against yours. Picturing his strong arms wrapping around your figure, his hands touching your skin, and to feel his body pressing against yours.

The dirty thoughts were becoming more and more aggressive to the point you'd touch yourself late at night just to help yourself go to sleep.

Feeling ashamed every time you hung out with him unbeknownst to him that you pictured in your mind him railing you up against a wall. Feeling flustered around him like a shy little girl who didn't know how to act around the boy she liked. You knew that one day you would have to confess your feelings to him so you could know how he felt too.

"You have any jobs in mind?" He asked you continuing with the conversation.

"Yeah there's a couple jobs that I'm looking at." Leaning up exiting the kitchen heading up the stairs to your bedroom. "I've got some interviews in a couple weeks so I'll see how those go."

"Not even been there a day and you've already got interviews." He mused with a light scoff.

"Anybody could do that." Scoffing at his compliment trying to act nonchalant.

"Come on you know damn well that's not true." Blowing raspberries over the phone. "Only someone as amazing as you could pull that off."

"Yeah you're right. What can I say I'm just a boss ass bitch." You joked playfully mentally smacking yourself in the forehead at your word choice.

"Oh god please don't ever say that again." He responded back as both of you laughed on the phone.

"Yeah you're right I shouldn't have said that." Now feeling a little awkward just thankful he wasn't here in front of you.

"You're lucky your cute." His choice words had you smiling to yourself feeling a little giddy.

"Hey I'm more than cute." Pulling a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from the dresser drawers throwing them on top of the bed.

"You're absolutely right," he agreed immediately with you," you're sexy and gorgeous."

"Well I don't know about that." Groaning as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself.

"Trust me you are." His words held much more true meaning than you realized.

"Well I hate to end this stimulating conversation, but I am absolutely exhausted." Sighing loudly as as yawn escaped your lips.

"Yeah you've have a busy ass day so I'll be unselfish for once and let you go." Fake pouting to himself even though he was a little disappointed he couldn't talk to you more.

"How kind of you." Playing along with him as he chuckled.

"Try not to think too much about me tonight." His tone cocky as you just rolled your eyes at him.

"Yeah I'll try to control my thoughts." The sarcasm dripping off your tongue, but that was easier said than done.

"Good night Y/N." His tone gentle as he said his goodbyes.

"Good night Jake." Ending the conversation as you plugged your phone into the charger.

Smiling once again to yourself biting your bottom lip softly wishing that he was here to wrap his thick arms around you. He was like a safety blanket for you in a sense. Always bringing you comfort in times when you felt nervous or anxious. He knew how to make you feel better without ever speaking a word.

You hated to think about Jake the way you did without knowing how he felt about you. Having a guilty conscious for not speaking your mind to him before you left. Too chicken to just blurt out the fact that you were pretty much in love with him. The next time you saw him you were going to have to tell him your feelings before you get your heart broken.

Changing out of your clothes as you got your comfy clothes on. Tossing the dirty ones into your hamper that was in the corner. Sitting down on the bed blowing air out of your mouth looking around your bedroom the emptiness freaking you out a little bit.

The longer you sat there the silence around you was becoming eerie. For some odd reason you felt like someone was watching you. Like an invisible set of eyes were staring holes into your body.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind thinking that was just the exhaustion talking. You needed to do something else to distract your paranoid thoughts.

You were too tired to do anything else right now knowing the best thing, and really only thing to do was get into bed. Throwing back the covers as you got perfectly into place until you were comfortable.

Grabbing your phone as you pulled up your pictures staring at one that you took with Jake the morning before you left. Smiling at how hard he was grinning with his arm wrapped around your waist keeping you close.

The longer you stared at the picture the more your heart ached to have Jake here. Focusing on his bulging arms imagining those same arms pinning you down onto the bed as he slammed himself deep inside of you.

"Jesus Y/N pull yourself together." Mumbling to yourself as you felt that tingle in your core.

Groaning as you threw your phone down beside you with a loud groan. Closing your eyes hoping you could erase those images from your mind if you thought hard enough. That just only made things worse as the scenarios became more graphic and erotic.

Cracking your eyes open as your hand moved down your body automatically. Lifting up the top of them to slide your fingers downs to your folds. Discovering very quickly how wet you already were. Shame once again filling your body, but it was gone in seconds as the tips of your fingers grazed your clit.

Looking up at the ceiling as you coated your fingers in your arousal pushing two of them inside. Mouth parting open as you opened your legs a little more for easier access. Pumping them faster a sloshing sound echoing across the room from how soaked you were.

Feeling your fingers stretch you out moving your fingers faster wishing it was Jake thrusting his fingers into you instead. Knowing he had thick fingers and wondering how many of them he could fit in you.

Bending your knees as your feet were planted firmly down moving your hips in rhythm to your fingers. Going in a figure eight movement briefly lifting your hips off the bed. Picturing Jake hovering over you his fingers slamming into your body as he watched you like you were his favorite movie.

Pathetic little whimpers and moan leaving your lips like you were worried someone would hear. Kicking off the blanket feeling like it was trapping you and restraining you. Not knowing what was taking over your body, but you felt like you were under a spell.

Your unoccupied hand gripping the sheets beneath you as you curled your fingers up deeper. Your nails scraping along your walls as you searched for your sweet spot.

Lifting up your shirt up far enough to expose your breasts the cold air hitting your nipples turning them erect. Knowing Jake would not hesitate to attach his mouth to suck on them like his favorite piece of candy. Wondering what his mouth would like kissing and sucking on your breasts.

A breeze running across your body making a shiver run up your spine. A tingle in your stomach and the heat was spreading into your core. For a second it felt like a cold hand was touching your ankle. Rubbing the skin in a manner that seemed soothing and encouraging.

The paranoia you were feeling before was disappearing very quickly. It felt almost as if someone was standing in the room with you watching everything that you were doing, and the thing is that you weren't stopping nor did you plan to stop.

"That's it darling." A hushed voice that sounded like Jake spoke in your ear, but not once did you lose a beat. "Such a good little girl for me."

Keeping your eyes closed to the sound of Jakes encouraging words. Your head rolling back against the pillow as your palm rubbed against your now sensitive clit. Feeling flustered at the fact you were literally imagining Jake here with you feeding you into your fantasies and desires.

Your walls clenching around your fingers knowing you were so close to sweet release. Unable to keep your body still as the heat was spreading across your body like wildfire. Sweat was building up on the back of your neck. Toes curling into the bed, and your back arching off the bed.

That same cold breeze was moving further up your leg, and all you could see in your mind was Jake. Stopping when they got to your inner thighs pushing your legs further apart. Feeling like dark eyes were staring between your legs watching intensely what was happening.

"I'll have to keep you all to myself to play with." Something about hearing those words and tone seemed sinister to you.

It literally sounded like he was sitting in the room with you speaking to you. Things didn't seem right but you couldn't stop yourself. Already so deep into it you couldn't pull your hands away like some force was keeping them there.

Squinting your eyes as they were drawn to the corner of the room focusing on a dark figure lingering in the corner. A hard scream leaving your lips as you pulled the covers you pushed off you back onto your body. Your eyes wide with fear wondering if you were just hallucinating this. It was a tall figure wearing all black, and you couldn't see their face.

Your heart was beating so fast that's all you could hear. There was a light ringing in your ear as you stared at the corner not blinking. For a brief second you thought you were dreaming, but the chuckle that you heard confirmed that you weren't dreaming at all.

"What the fuck?" Squealing at the stranger who hadn't moved a muscle. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

"I came to watch the show." Clasping his hands together as he stepped forward. "And I must say it's been quite a show already."

"How the hell did you get in here?" Looking around frantically for something you could use to protect yourself with.

"I have my ways." Winking at you as he was now standing at the foot of the bed.

Getting a closer look at him you noticed that he looked like a normal man, but a good looking man. His dark wavy hair tousled around perfectly, and some scruff covering his jaw and a mustache that looked neatly trimmed. His muscles bulging out of his short sleeved black shirt.

Taking note of how dark his eyes were they were like olives. It was scary but you couldn't tear your gaze away no matter how hard you tried to look away.

"Get the fuck out or I'll call the police." Threatening the man as you pointed to the door. "I'm warning you."

"The police can't touch me sweetheart." He replied no worry written on his face which only pissed you off more. "In fact there's nothing you can do either."

"I'm calling the police." Grabbing your phone hands shaking as you started to dial numbers.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He warned but you chose not to listen. "I said don't do that."

A gust of wind blew by you as your phone was snagged from your hand, and thrown onto the floor. Screaming at the sudden movement looking like he didn't even move. Hands raised up by your side in surrender as you felt the tears ready to spill.

You took notice that his eyes were literally pitch black. It wasn't just from where you were sitting. He legit had black eyes. You've never seen someone who had black eyes like he did, and it was something out of a horror movie.

Standing almost chest to chest with you his body language was like a predator ready to attack his prey. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes and it was intoxicating. You could feel your chest heaving up and down as you tried to slow your breathing down.

There was something about this guy that wasn't normal. This man could snap at any moment, and kill your within a blink of an eye. You needed to do whatever it took to stay alive.

"Please don't hurt me." Your voice trembling as you begged the stranger.

"Don't worry cupcake I'm not gonna hurt you." Funny thing is he was the most attractive man you had ever seen, and wouldn't think someone like him could be dangerous. "Least not yet."

"Why are you here?" Scrunching your face in disgust realizing he was the one touching you as you touched yourself.

"Like I said before I came to watch the show." Repeating his words from earlier.

"You some kind of pervert or something?"

"I have certain tastes, and you look quite delicious."

"Do you always break into women's homes?"

"Oddly enough no I've never had a problem with women." He replied confidently.

"Could have fooled me." Chuckling to your response like you told a funny joke but you weren't laughing.

Instead of responding with a quick comeback he now stood there just staring at you. As much as you wanted to push him away it's like something was keeping your body glued close to him. You thought you would be trembling in fear, but crazily enough you felt comfortably warm.

"Who are you?" Whispering as you kept your eyes on him.

"The names Bradley Bradshaw."

There was something off about this guy that you just didn't know what. He broke into your home without making a sound. His eyes were pitch black, and he was able to whisper to you in a voice like Jake. This was something that you would see out of a movie or a nightmare.

Maybe you were imagining things, and needed to get a good nights sleep, but that wasn't going to stop you from getting answers from this mysterious man.

"What are you?" Asking him quizzically as you took notice of his eyes changing to a more normal color.

"I'm what they call a demon sweetheart."

#miles teller #miles teller smut #miles teller x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #miles teller fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagines #miles teller imagines #miles teller fic #bradley bradshaw fic

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bellewintersroe · 1 year

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Sebastian Vettel x RBDesignEngingeer Reader.

Set in 2013 during the GP, Jennifer is fresh out of uni and has made a name for herself within the F1 world. She joins Redbull-Renault as one of their engineer designers and easily fits into the team, forming friendships easily. Most of all, she captures the attention of three time world champion, Sebastian Vettel.

Part 5- here’s the LINK to the previous part. Jen is quickly becoming the most popular girl in Red Bull, and making quite the impression on the paddock. As months pass she’s a delight to work with and Sebastian feels like he’s losing his mind whenever he’s around her. He’s not so silent about his feelings towards her, and the two find themselves flirting at any given chance. Sebastian thinks she’s so important to him he wants to introduce her to a close friend of his…

Just a pre-warning the next chapter will include spice so be prepared 🌶️

This gif makes me want to cry, great xxx

Silverstone, England, June 30th 2013. “Ah, well done, well done!” I clapped my hands together excitedly seeing Mark embrace his wife, Anne. Afterwards I gave him a quick hug, congratulating him for 2nd place and a spot on the podium. “Such an amazing drive, you should be so proud.” I nodded as the Australian’s grin was undeniable. I’d hoped for first place for Mark, but the myself and the team was overwhelmingly happy with second, especially after Seb’s gearbox failure.

“Thank you, thank you. I appreciate it.” He smiled as I offered him another before he went on to be congratulated by the rest of the team. Not too far away, I noticed Sebastian was finished talking with Christian nearby. His head was hung low and he looked a little awkward. I hated the feeling that churned in my lower stomach, I knew this could pose a threat to his potential championship win, but I was positive without the gearbox failure he would’ve won. I was also positive he would win the next race. It was always more frustrating when something completely out of the drivers control effected the race results.

I slipped over, sliding a hand on his shoulder. “Hi.” I gently smiled, his head perking up and a soft smile appeared. “Hey.”

“You alright?” I tilted my head up to look at him. “Yeah, just frustrated but- these things happen.” My hand slowly slid off his arm.

“I know, it’s so frustrating. You drove so good this whole race though.”

“That’s why it is even more frustrating.” He scratched the back of his neck as I winced, maybe I shouldn’t have rubbed that in. “I know.” I gently spoke as he tilted his head back up from the floor.

“These things happen.” He shook it off, “are you free, right now?”

“Pretty much.” I glanced around, “I don’t think anybody needs me for anything; I just wanted to get a head start on looking at this track at Nürburgring.” Seb’s smile widened.

“Come take a break you smarty pants.” He slapped my arm gently, his disappointment still faint on his voice. “I’ve got somebody I want you to meet.”

“Right now?” I knotted my hands together, toying with them nervously. “Yeah.” Sebastian smiled. “And I wanna get out of here before anybody else asks me about today.” “Okay.” I agreed. “Yeah?” He smiled as I nodded, allowing him to lead me out of the garages. “Who are we meeting?” I then asked, skipping to keep up with his long paces.

“Somebody.” He was grinning ear to ear. Whoever it was must’ve been special. “Somebody? Is that all you’re gonna say, what is it the queen?” “Michael Schumacher.” I stopped dead in my tracks. Eyes widening as an excitement bubbled in my chest. “No!”

“Yeah.” He laughed, “c’mon.”

“I can’t, Sebastian, I’m scared!” I felt my nerves seeping through me. Sebastian had turned around now, laughing out loud as he grabbed at my hands to pull me. “Why?” He giggled. “Because I love Michael Schumacher, I’m nervous.” I planted a hand on my chest. “He’ll love you, come.” He began tugging on my hand as I stumbled forwards, my hands moving onto the back of his shoulders. “No, I’m worried!”

Sebastian turned around with a grin, “do I have to drag you?”

“Yeah.” I teased, not expecting him to fully lift me up over his shoulders. I gasped, grasping onto his shirt as he held the back of my legs, holding my dress down. “Sebastian! No!” I choked out, my hands gripping at anything I could possibly get a hold of. He was laughing mischievously, jogging out through the garage as I bobbed on his back.

“Seb, Seb, Seb! Sebastian!” I cried out, half in horror half in enjoyment as I felt like I was gonna go backwards over his shoulder. “Oh, hallo, Sebastian.” An all too recognisable voice made my eyes widen in complete surprise. “Hallo!” Sebastian greeted, beginning to put me back down on my feet.

“Wer ist dein Freund?” (Who is your friend?).

I spun around, the blood rushing to my face as I pushed my hair back in surprise. Stood there was Michael Schumacher and his wife looking amused at the position I’d just been in. “Hello!” I practically giggled.

“Ah, this is Jenna.” Sebastian put a hand on my upper back, still laughing from my previous panic. “This is Michael and Corinna.” I greeted both of them politely.

“Girlfriend?” Michael grinned back to Sebastian as I spluttered nervously. “No, no, she’s the design engineer for us.”

“Ah, really?! I’ve heard of you before, I’m glad you’re here actually…” What ensued was a conversation about the Nurburgring track and it’s safety, I never thought I’d have such an in depth conversation with Michael Schumacher, I was pretty starstruck. He and his wife were so friendly, although they did like to keep referring to me as Sebastian’s ‘girlfriend’ which got me all red in the face. “I’m glad you met him.” Sebastian spoke when we walked back to where he was supposed to be present at the F1 after party. His arm was slung over my shoulder as I smiled up to him in amazement. “Me too, I’m in shock.” I held my hand to my chest. Seb’s hand slowly crept onto my arm, rubbing at the exposed skin as I bit down onto my shoulder. His touch was warm and his hands were so big, big enough to engulf any part of my body.

“They liked you. I knew you’d get along with Michael anyway, you’re so clever you know everything that he finds so interesting.” He complimenting, playfully pulling me in front of him and squeezing at my shoulders. As he did, I let out a burst of laughter at the ticklish sensation, squeaking as he began laughing, pulling me closer into his front. Oh god, I was a flustered mess, it felt like we were a couple. “What was that?!” He asked in amusement, grinning as he spoke, my hands holding onto his fingers. “I’m ticklish, don’t do that again.” I felt him squeeze once more as I tensed, giggling out until he pulled me flush against his chest, arm wrapped over my chest. My body was against his, every time he took a step forwards, his crotch would inch against my bum and I felt borderline perverted at the fact it was turning me on.

“I’m sorry.” He grinned, squeezing me gently as I held onto his arm. “You’re a wind up.” I slapped his skin lightly. “A what?” He glanced over my shoulder. “A wind up, you know, you torment me on purpose.” I explained, stumbling over my words slightly as he simply smirked in response, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. His lips looked so plump and kissable, our faces were so close, I wanted to kiss him so bad. The months of the close friendship had only made me feelings and attraction grow deeper for him. “Oh, here come the love birds!” Christian Horner’s voice exclaimed as I snapped my attention towards the red headed man, Seb’s arms sliding off me slowly as he left one hand resting just behind my shoulder.

“There you are! We’ve been searching for you!” He spoke to Sebastian. “Ah, sorry we were talking to Michael.” “Talking to Michael, canoodling, whatever you were doing.” Christian teased as I tensed my jaw out of a slight shyness. Sebastian had to hurry on stage after that, offering me a pat on the back as I was left feeling uncomfortably frustrated when the cold rush of air replaced where his hands and body had been. I was turned on by him. I couldn’t deny that, how cheeky he was, how cuddly and close he got to me. I felt my lower core ache and it felt like my mind was on fire, too occupied by the idea of his hands roaming further down my chest to focus on anything else…

#sebastian vettel x oc #sebastian vettel 2013 #sebastian vettel fanfiction #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel #michael Schumacher

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bluejaysandblackbats · 8 months

Text

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 1/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma

Chapter One: Hickory Dickory Dock

Bruce leaped out of the Batmobile, blood pumping as he sprinted halfway across the docks and kicked in the warehouse door in a panic. He couldn't be too late. Not again. He looked around the room, his heart still beating in his ears. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to regain his cool. Jason wasn't a child anymore. He could take care of himself. Jason was probably long gone. Bruce tried to reassure himself that everything was fine. He turned to leave just as a pipe clattered and clanged against the cement floor, followed by a gasp. Bruce met eyes with a little boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. He sat in the corner of the room shaking and crying, wearing a hoodie that was so oversized it pooled over his feet.

The boy held both hands over his face, stifling sobs as his body shook. Bruce's shoulders dropped, and he made himself appear smaller and less imposing. He stepped forward to approach, and the child screwed up his face and broke into a sobbing mess. "Oh no, I'm not here to hurt you-." The little boy shook his head frantically.

"No! No," he pleaded. Bruce sighed and sat down where he stood.

"I only want to help," Bruce reassured him. "Can you step into the light for me?" The child shook his head. "My mask is awfully spooky, huh?" The boy nodded. "Don't worry. I'm just a regular man under the mask."

The little boy shivered in the cold. "It's too cold in here to stay all night... I actually have a ravioli soup to pick up in a little bit, and I couldn't possibly eat it all by myself. Do you know anybody who might want to eat hot and spicy ravioli soup with me?" Bruce questioned. The little boy's stomach growled. Bruce reached out, and the little boy took his hand. "Oracle-."

"Got it," Barbara replied. Bruce held his hand out, and the child finally accepted. Bruce took a wet napkin and wiped his face and hands clean, checking for signs of a broken nose.

"Does that hurt?" Bruce questioned. The little boy tried to stop himself from crying. "Does your head hurt?"

The little boy shook his head. "No..." His voice was small, almost mouse-like.

"Okay... I don't think anything's broken," Bruce whispered, "Will you come with me?"

Bruce walked him to the Batmobile and set up the car seat he kept around for emergencies. He buckled the boy in and checked to ensure the seat belt was secure. The little boy grabbed Bruce's wrist, and they locked eyes. There was a strange familiarity swimming around in the boy's downturned eyes. "Am I in trouble?" asked the boy. Bruce shook his head. "Are you gonna take me home after?"

"I'm going to try to. How'd you get way out here?" Bruce asked.

Bruce hopped in the Batmobile and started driving toward the restaurant in Little Italy. "I don't remember," the boy mumbled, "I usually remember things... But I don't know this time. I never go this far away by myself."

"Do you know what neighborhood you live in?" Bruce questioned. The little boy swung his feet as he looked around at the Batmobile's interior.

"Uh-huh. I live in the apartments on Park Row," the boy answered, "Mr. Batman, you hurt my daddy before... But sometimes, he does bad things. My mommy says sometimes people have to do bad things to survive."

"Well-."

"I think he had to go away again and get punished," the little boy explained.

"I'm sorry that I hurt your father," Bruce apologized.

"It's okay... You probably didn't know. Sometimes people hit people because they don't know better," the little boy justified. Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he pulled up into the alley.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Bruce asked. The little boy nodded.

Bruce went into the back entrance and paid for his order. He took an empty soup container and split his order in two before grabbing his forks and returning to the Batmobile. He climbed into the backseat and draped a napkin over the boy's lap before handing him his soup. "Thank you," the little boy whispered. Bruce could tell it'd been a while since the child's last meal, but he had excellent manners. Bruce ate with him in silence. "Do you know my name?"

Bruce shook his head. He thought it was a strange question. "Do you know Santa Claus?" the little boy questioned.

"No, I can't say I do," Bruce replied, "What is your name, by the way?"

"Jason," the little boy answered. Bruce turned to him and shook his head.

"Jason Peter Todd?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded and smiled.

"Hey! You told a fib! You do know my name," Jason giggled. Bruce's breath caught. How was that possible? Jason was a full-grown man when Bruce received the distress call earlier. Who could've done something like that to him? "Mr. Batman?"

Bruce took off his mask and looked him in the eye. He hoped it would spark something in Jason's memory. "Jason, how old are you right now?" Bruce questioned.

"You're Bruce Wayne," Jason grinned, showing Bruce the little gap in his front teeth.

"Jason, please. How old are you today?" Bruce asked.

Jason frowned. "I'm five... Are you mad at me?" Jason questioned. Bruce shook his head.

"Do you remember talking to me today? We talked to each other three times today... I've known you since you were twelve, and I-."

"Mr. Wayne... I'm five," Jason whispered.

Bruce sighed. Jason was literally five years old. He had no memory of the past nineteen years, and there was no way to explain any of it without traumatizing him. "Well, Jason, if your mommy and daddy aren't home, do you want to stay with me for a little while?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded.

"How'd you know my whole name?" Jason asked.

"I'm a good detective," Bruce answered. Jason hiccupped and apologized. "It's alright. Jason, is it alright if I take you to a doctor and let her bandage up your cuts?" Jason nodded. "If you're good, Dr. Thompkins might give you a sticker."

Jason lit up. "I know who Dr. Thompkins is! She helped my mommy once when she was sick," Jason explained. Bruce smoothed Jason's hair down in the back. He felt something warm and wet, like blood, and he drew his hand back to see a glowing inscription on his hand. Magic. Of course, it was magic.

Corpus et mens infantis ad cor infantis. It was written in liquid on Jason's head and Bruce's palm. Jason didn't notice the glowing green inscription. "Does Dr. Thompkins know you're Batman?" Jason asked. Bruce nodded. "Am I asking too many questions, Mr. Wayne?"

"You can ask all the questions you want, Jason. Okay?" Bruce reassured him. Jason nodded as he drank the tomato broth from his soup container. Bruce smiled and wiped Jason's face. "I used to have a little boy like you... Except he wasn't as little as you. He was older... But to me, he was my little boy."

"Is he gone?" Jason asked.

"Kind of," Bruce whispered.

"Do you miss him?" Jason questioned.

"All the time," Bruce whispered, "He was only little for such a short time. I wished I could turn back time and be better to him."

Jason looked at the sad expression on Bruce's face, and he tapped his shoulder. "I bet he misses you too," Jason reassured him.

#fic #five little ducks fic #jason todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #duke thomas #dick grayson #batfam #de-aged jason todd #angst and fluff #magic #babysitting #chapter 1: hickory dickory dock

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year

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Hi BPP hope you are doing great. I’m a jikooker but there’s something that’s been bothering me a little bit and i would like to get ur opinion on it. So after Jimin posted that photo of himself and Jk, i saw some people making comments about Jk’s body language and how he kept his elbow out to keep a distance between him and Jimin. I’ve also seen other instances on original content when Jk’s body language with Jimin was kinda off or negative and the barely looked relaxed around him. When u see him with literally anyone else, he looks really relaxed and does not mind sitting really close to them but with Jimin it looks like sometimes Jk wants to intentionally keep a distance. Now I don’t even for one second believe the nonsense tkkrs and antis spew about Jk hating Jimin. Anybody with eyes can see how much Jk cares for and loves Jimin. So why do you think his body language is like that? And is this something you’ve noticed too? I would really like to hear what you think.

***

Rant incoming.

Hi Anon,

I'm going to make an example of your ask to show something I keep repeating from time to time, which is that the majority of the problems, 'discourse', and source of angst in k-pop spaces, is manufactured by k-pop stans themselves and has almost nothing to do with reality or the members.

One of the biggest tells that something is fan-manufactured BS, is if the narrative is riddled with contradictions, because cognitive dissonance can only take one so far.

For reference, to be sure the whole class is all on the same page, here's the picture Anon is referring to:

Anon, let's pick apart your ask a little bit.

"So after Jimin posted that photo of himself and Jk, i saw some people making comments about Jk’s body language and how he kept his elbow out to keep a distance between him and Jimin."

Let's first talk about why you're listening to anybody trying to read body language from one still picture showing two Busan Bros and their backs.

The person most able and likely to fully read Jungkook's body language in this scenario, is Jimin. You know, the person who was beside Jungkook, actually with him in person, when the picture was taken. Not some random internet stranger sitting on their sofa looking at a still, pixelated image of jikook's backs.

Following that logic, if Jungkook was in any way uncomfortable with Jimin or wanted to get away from him in this instance, you'd have to first assume Jimin is inconsiderate, oblivious of Jungkook's feelings, or being something of a troll to JK, to then assume he'd go ahead and force JK to take this picture and then post it (assumed by some people to show JK was uncomfortable with Jimin in this case) on Jungkook's birthday.

Which is the end goal of that narrative. It takes an innocuous picture, and forces an end conclusion by first introducing a harmful assumption but one necessary to reach the end conclusion, in this case that assumption is of Jimin's character. So that's how a picture of Jungkook having his hands clasped in front him and likely holding something, which is obvious from the picture and which easily explains his posture, and shows JK actually leaning into Jimin - an obvious contradiction to the end-claim, then becomes fodder for the narrative of 'JK's body language around Jimin is "kinda off or negative and the barely looked relaxed around him."'

Like, that's a whole bunch of words pulled from the ether that have no bearing or relationship to the actual picture we're all looking at. All of those words came from the imagination of someone else who has nothing to do with jikook, and now I'm sitting here in my hotel room having to explain why it's bullshit.

Actually I didn't have to answer this, normally I'd delete it, but you started off your ask nicely and it's a good one to pick apart.

Because it shows the thing that really gets me about the kind of theories that drive discourse in BTS fan spaces. It's that every time, there's far more accessible and simpler explanations to explain what you're seeing, than anything you get from antis, shippers, rival shippers, akgaes, mantis - the usual suspects for this disease of a hyper-active imagination that for some reason always follows the plotline of a Fernando Gaitán telenovela. It's almost like the members are not treated as real people, but as fodder for drama and sensationalist conspiracy theories for that fan's entertainment, self-fulfillment and actualization.

It's what makes fandom such a self-sustaining system. It's that even when there are no problems or drama, you can count on some fan somewhere who will eagerly create them out of thin air, just to get a reaction from other fans who perhaps subconsciously have the primary motivations of the initial fan: treating the members first and foremost as a means to explore unresolved anxieties, insecurities, and boredom.

Now, this doesn't mean that Jungkook can never be uncomfortable around Jimin or want to keep his distance. We know it's possible because Jungkook is a person, and it's human to sometimes want your own space or to want to not always be in physical proximity with people around you, and that this can happen for a whole bunch of reasons. But what you sent me Anon, is an ask that's about a theory where the source of the theory itself (the picture), contradicts the end-claim of the theory, just to feed an underlying fan narrative that's often found in spaces that don't treat either Jimin or Jungkook as real people. The picture doesn't actually show Jungkook pulling away from Jimin. It shows Jungkook with his hands clasped in front of him, leaning into Jimin so Jimin's arm can get around his shoulder, Jimin standing with an upright posture, and both Jimin and Jungkook looking in the same direction.

The only thing possible to infer from this picture, is that jikook are jikooking.

It's possible this is a reality that makes some people so uncomfortable they'd look for any explanation to take away from that fact, including believing theories that are inherently self-contradictory, but there's no reason you need to play along with that BS. It wastes everybody's time and does nothing but dumb down the conversation in fan spaces.

#jikook #jimin #jungkook

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