#LET ME DO THE FIRST HONORABLE THING IN MY LIFE.
Note
your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!
HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)
anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?
i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do
the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3
jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.
pt 1 / pt 2
****
Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.
You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.
You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.
Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.
And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.
But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.
Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.
"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"
Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.
He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.
"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."
"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.
You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.
"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."
Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.
"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."
"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."
That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."
His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.
You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.
Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."
You shrug. "I quit."
"What?"
"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."
Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."
"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."
To love, you don't say.
"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"
You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.
"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."
You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.
"God, I'm sorry," he says.
"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."
Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.
"C'mon," he says.
You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.
"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"
"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."
"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."
"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.
He clears his throat. "That—no."
"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"
Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."
"Hm. That's too bad."
You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.
"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."
It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"
"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.
He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."
"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.
"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"
"Lay it on me, big guy."
"You first. Attack me like you normally would."
So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.
"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."
"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."
Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.
"Take a breath," he murmurs.
You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.
"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"
"Not the important parts, I hope."
You can feel his eyeroll.
"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"
"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."
"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"
"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"
"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."
"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."
"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."
So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.
"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"
"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."
He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"
"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."
"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."
"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."
Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."
You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.
And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.
And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.
Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.
You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.
You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.
You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.
"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"
You shake your head. "No. Never."
"There somethin' on my face?"
"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."
That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.
Perhaps you know him better than you thought.
He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.
"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."
Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."
You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.
"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."
"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.
You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.
You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.
"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."
He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"
Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."
Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.
"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."
Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.
"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."
Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.
You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.
You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.
"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."
You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.
"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."
"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."
"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"
"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."
You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.
"Never been anybody but you."
#Jason todd x reader#Jason todd x you#red Hood x reader#red Hood x you#Jason todd fanfiction#red Hood fanfiction#Jason todd imagine#red Hood imagine#red Hood x yn#jason todd x y/n#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#inbox#blurb
182 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'm 23 and have been obsessed with body-building for years. I'm nowhere near big though. I'd love to be blown up into an absolutely massive freak. I wanna struggle to fit through door ways, I want furniture to bend under me. I want most guys I hit on to think I'm too big.
Please can you blow me up and grow me into the biggest bodybuilder possible.
It’s finally time for another one of my personal transformations. It’s been a little bit since I helped turn that guy into a bodybuilder jock with a supernova charged battery, but last time was so much fun I knew I had to do it again when the chance came up. I guess the only real question is what transformation method is right for you. I could always use the supernova battery again, or one of the other transformation methods I mentioned in my first personal transformation, but if I’m being honest part of the fun last time was sharing all the ways I could transform people. So how about we take a look at some of my newer transformation methods.
Your first choice is a CD. It’s a special video made for me by a local football coach who has recently introduced the Jock Studies program to his school. I reached out in the hope of getting an interview with him, and just got this in return. Not even a proper response. It’s… kind of an obvious trap too. I mean, I ask a bunch of people who are famous for turning people into submissive jocks to give me an interview, and they send me an unmarked CD? I mean, you can’t report on this kind of stuff like I do without someone trying to transform you eventually. I was actually kind of honored that they considered me enough trouble to target me… but not enough to actually watch the video. You can have the CD if you want. I’m absolutely certain you’d turn into a massive jock. Although you’d also be incredibly submissive to the coaches who made this, which might not be your jam. Let’s look at the others before you decide at least.
Your next option is a bit complicated. It’s a time machine, recently stolen from a group named the SAD (society against douchebags) by the Douchebag Revolution. I did a favor for them recently so they gave me this. Said they could trust me to use it responsibly. Well, sort of. The way they said it included a lot more ‘bros’ and ‘fuck yeahs’ but that was basically the gist. Anyways, we could use it to change you by changing your past. A little manipulation of your life and you could end up a bodybuilder. The thing is that time travel is… risky. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? That’s why I try to avoid time travel as much as possible. Too much can go wrong. Let’s move onto something else, since this one is so… unpredictable.
How about this one? It’s water from a familiar little town called Maxford, the one that turns anyone who enters it into a straight, conservative jock or bimbo. Turns out drinking water that’s bottled inside the town has similar effects. Turns you into your Maxford self for 24 hours. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get this. Entering Maxford was an… interesting experience. Um, anyways, it might not be the best choice for you. It’s temporary, and it will turn you straight the entire time you���re a hunk. That can be fun to try, but I get the feeling you want something more permanent. Let’s look at something else
Finally is a specially made necklace, a gold chain with a miniature dumbbell pendant. It’s made by a jewelry store chain that might sound familiar to you if you’ve read some of my earlier stories: EB Jewelry. Normally these are pretty expensive, and you’d have to buy them directly from EB Jewelry, but there was a mistake with manufacturing and they ended up with a surplus of these things. I bought a ton of them and wouldn’t mind parting with one. Put it on and you’ll transform into a total bodybuilder jock. More than that, I can give you more than one. You can share them with your friends, make an entire group of bodybuilder jocks that barely fit through doors. Yeah, that one is definitely the best choice. Go ahead, try it on.
Fuck you look good. You seem quite a bit dimmer now, which is to be expected, but god you look like walking sex. Make sure to share those necklaces with your friends. Using more than one might have… side effects. Plus, the more huge jocks, the better.
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roxy -
As I wrote in a post a couple days ago, Roxy and I got divorced late winter this year after 3½ years of marriage. We still love each other and still have sex with each other on our own terms (meaning not just on porn sets). She used her gift of wonder over my body and an inspiration to be the best I - and everyone around her - can be. For my part, I took a wallpaper girl and now all agree she is wise well beyond her 27 years. I didn't do that for her, but maybe I gave her the confidence to do it herself.
So why? Surely our age gap (46 years difference) played a part. Also, being married to a porn actress and model as busy as myself may have helped her career as a writer but it was also straining as you watch your wife having exquisite sex with many men and women. And, lastly, Roxy fount Mirren and Mirren found Roxy.
And who is Mirren: we've mentioned her name a few times. When Mirren first joined us she chose the name Nicola. She changed that performer name to Kwanta when Emily started calling her that after Emily said Mirren's body was a "quantum (read Kwanta) leap" beyond anyone else's. When she moved into the upper echelon of our studio she changed her name once more to Mirren in honor of her favorite actress Helen Mirren and because like myself, Michelle, and Maria, she wanted her name to start with an "M." (I told her to please chose a name and stick with it this time.)
So what makes Mirren this "quantum leap?" She's strikingly beautiful with incredible legs. She stands a slender 5'8". Her hair is a lovely auburn. But where's this "quantum leap?" When Mirren first came to us (sent by corporate to us for training), she went by her given name: RORY! Yep, Mirren spent most of life being identified as a man. But not your ordinary man, but a man that statistically shouldn't exist. I remember well the day Dana introduced the man Rory to us all. I think we all looked at each other at first with a "what's up with him?" expression; that was, until he lowered his pants. And there, half hard, was by far the biggest cock we had ever seen - and we had seen them up to 13 + inches. Even half hard this thing was the biggest with the largest set of balls we had ever seen. But the term "half hard" was the catch. Seems Rory was sent to us to see if we could get him fully hard. While most of us gazed in wonder at it or even came to him and stroked it (as I was the first to do) it still never got hard, even when I pulled my tits out and rubbed that monster between them.
During our "what do we do with him and THAT" discussion, Dana called out our makeup manager (Daphne) and our head seamstress (Wendy) for having a side conversation. When asked to explain themselves, Wendy answered for the two of them: "The problem is that everyone just assumes he is as he appears as everyone focuses on that." She pointed to his gigantic cock. "But if you can take your eyes off that thing for a few minutes the problem becomes obvious: The rest of Rory is a SHE!"
With that, Rory let out a "YES!" and became much more animated. And her (at that point we all considered Rory a "her") cock rapidly grew to full length and massive hardness. And we all stared in wonder at the WONDER before us as Rory became who she was meant to be: Nicola then Kwanta until lastly Mirren.
And Mirren immediately chose Roxy to be her best friend and, soon thereafter, the lover she had been waiting for.
I'll stop there. I'll miss you by my side every night, dear Roxy, but you have an incredible new wife in Mirren, and one about your same age. We'll keep making love, you and I, and I will always thank you for making me alive again after Jake's death.
As the song goes: "I Will Always Love You!"
(More on Mirren to come.)
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
honest work. regulus black.
regulus is dead and it is now up to you to defend his honor.
warnings: canon compliant death
pairing: past regulus black x fem!reader
Regulus never told you he was leaving, he never told you his plans. You woke up in a cold, dark, empty room with no one lying beside you. The sheets on his side of the bed were freezing and had been kicked off the bed haphazardly. The night before had been rough, you had ended up arguing over everything you were missing out on while seeking refuge inside the house that was given to Regulus as a graduation gift. His involvement with the Dark Lord had done immense damage to your relationship but it was held together by his promises – promises that things were not as they seemed.
In return, you had lost your job but, most importantly, your friends who had become family because of your predicament. They were never accepting of your relationship. The younger version of you that got yourself into this mess was naive. You were a sixteen-year-old chasing a forbidden love. Now, as an almost nineteen-year-old, you were in far too deep. Everything that was part of you, or what you owned, was dedicated to and also owned by Regulus. There was no you without him, once everyone else had turned their back on you.
The deepest parts of you still loved Regulus, of course. Your skin begged for his touch and your brain urged to see him and hear his voice. But, he did not align with your beliefs. Any chance of change he had shown in your Hogwarts years had been ripped to shreds the minute you graduated. But, you never left. You had lost everything, and you refused to lose him, too.
Beside you, placed gently on the pillow your lover used every night, was a rolled-up parchment. Your heart sunk at the sight, mind racing.
Unrolling it, you felt bile work its way up your throat as you began to read it.
“Y/n,
I apologize for leaving so abruptly. Sometimes, when the moment is right, you must not let anything stop you. I need you to believe every word I say.
I have found something that may put an end to all of this – this war that I know has put a strain on us, especially your well-being. I never meant for things to become this way.
He has created an object that makes him... stronger than the average mortal. I know where it is located and hopefully, I will destroy it. I know I am being vague, but I swear it is for your protection.
I do not know if or when I will return. I need you to promise me that you will move on, worse comes to worst. The thought of you in pain over my decision pains me more than anything I could face on this journey. My last thoughts will be of only you. I am still as in love with you as I was the first day we met, but I regret infiltrating your life with my poor choices.
With all of my love,
R.A.B.
Please burn after reading.”
Your body shook as you clutched the parchment to your chest. You knew Regulus would not be returning, or else he wouldn’t have left this letter. You would never hold or kiss him again, never have him inside you again. You would never smell his cologne throughout the house or bury your nose in his hair again.
After the initial comedown from reading the letter, your thoughts were jumbled: had Regulus told the truth? Was he lying when he promised things weren’t as they seemed? The letter seemed to confirm his claims, but what if it was just another lie?
Standing up on shaky legs, you made your way to the desk that Regulus spent many nights hunched over. You began writing a letter to Sirius about Regulus’ death, but you left out all of the parts regarding why it happened. You didn’t think about how Sirius may react. You never expected a letter in return just a few days later, asking you to meet him.
You should’ve expected that James and Remus would also be accompanying him. What you thought would be a deep conversation about Regulus quickly turned into an interrogation. The men in front of you wasted no time with pleasantries, immediately diving into what Sirius had said they would be coming for. “He died during a mission-,” you started. You were cut off by Sirius, who had grown tired of you struggling to find the right words to say.
“Stop telling me that he died! I want to know how,” Sirius demanded. You shook your head and looked down.
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Sirius, when I’m not quite sure myself.” you spit out, still not lifting your head to look at him. “He left me a letter. That is all I know and even that didn’t explain much.”
“A letter? So he left, presumably on a mission, and got himself killed doing it. Bloody idiot, if only he’d grown a backbone-,” Sirius started but was interrupted.
“You are so ignorant, Sirius. You know nothing about him and what he was doing. He wasn’t the boy you left behind in that house, he changed. But, you? You’re still an entitled dickhead. You can’t think for one minute that maybe, just maybe, your brother looked up to you. He wanted to escape, too, but he never had the resources you did. He didn’t have loving friends that he could run to. You don’t get it, Sirius, you don’t know how badly he wanted out of there after you left. I am not going to sit here and listen to you when Regulus died to help your cause,” you said. You started crying again and covered your face with your hands.
The three men in front of you glanced at each other. For once in his life, Sirius didn’t know what to say. Instead, James spoke up. “He died for our cause? What’d you mean by that?”
“He didn’t tell me everything, even asked that I burn the letter after I read it. But, he mentioned something about Voldemort being stronger than mortals and that he knew how to stop him from being so. I figured that if anyone deserved to know now that he’s gone, it would be you.”
You silently prayed to the Gods that Regulus wasn’t frowning down upon you right now. You had gone directly against his dying wish, but you knew this secret couldn’t die with him. Others needed to know that Regulus Black did not die as a cowardly supporter of Voldemort.
“Could you give us a moment?” Sirius asked, turning towards James and Remus. The two boys nodded and got up from the table, finding something else to do. Sirius couldn’t meet your eye, instead focusing his gaze on his clasped hands. “Could you tell me more about him?” he whispered.
You stared at him, shocked. “He was angry at you, but not because of your beliefs. He was heartbroken that you left him in that house, but as we got older, he was even angrier at himself for being angry at you.” Sirius ducked his head even lower and you stopped yourself from reaching out and putting your hand on his shoulder.
“Regulus and I had talked about starting a family. If we had a son, he wanted to give him the middle name ‘Sirius’. We spent a lot of nights talking about our future, in hopes of getting the chance to even have one.” You choked on your tears before continuing, “One of his promises to me was that when everything settled down, he would try to reconnect with you.”
“But, I never even attempted to give him a chance,” Sirius trailed off. You nodded, stoically. You weren’t going to show pity on him. Consumed by your grief, you couldn’t imagine that Sirius was capable of feeling an ounce of what you felt. He had turned his back on Regulus while you did everything to keep him in one piece. Sirius knew nothing. “What else did he promise you?”
You sighed, slouching in your seat faintly. “He promised that we would get married. Part of that promise was that he’d have reconnected with you by then. You’d be at the wedding. He also promised that we would get rid of Grimmauld Place since that place is full of terrible memories. Now, with everyone being dead other than you, it’s yours.” You had to pause before you continued. Sirius looked as though he had been presented with the worst news of his life.
“You were always his older brother. He loved you, Sirius.” You picked up a tissue and tried to rid your face of the tears. Exhaustion had taken its toll on you and you hung your head. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how much more I can say right now. I haven’t gotten to grieve yet, you know,” you mumbled. Sirius nodded and twisted the rings on his finger, showing his nerves.
You stood up to leave the table, not sure how to end the conversation, but Sirius reached out and grabbed your wrist. “If you ever get overwhelmed being in that house, you can stay at mine. I’m not there much these days, anyway,” he said.
“As kind as that is, I don’t think I can part with it just yet.”
Six months later, you sat in front of a grave – one that read “Regulus Arcturus Black.” You had asked for a special inscription on it, “A loved partner and brother.”
It was hard for you to come to his grave, mainly because there was never a body to bury. The first time you came and arranged a small selection of flowers, it felt like you were lying to yourself. Surely, Regulus wasn’t dead? How could you be proclaimed dead when there was no body? You knew you weren’t making sense – Kreature had confirmed Regulus’s death. That was all the proof you needed.
However, as you sit facing his grave today, you finally feel as though his presence is there with you. “I wish things would’ve gone differently, but I’m sure you did, too.” A light laugh slipped from your mouth and you looked at the flowers that had rotted since the last time you were there.
“I miss you every day, Reg. Every morning, I still reach for you. Your office is the same as the day you left it. I can’t bring myself to change anything that was once yours, in fear that I’ll forget the small things about it. I can’t move your opened book on the symbolism of thestrals, or flip the page from the one you left it on. Every once in a while, I find a piece of your clothing that managed to escape the wash – I can’t bring myself to wash them because they still smell like you.” A few tears slipped from your eyes as you spoke. You absentmindedly plucked the wilted flowers from the ground, tossing them somewhere behind you.
“I still love you like I would have if you were here with me. Sirius has started to come around, too. Your death has finally set into him. He regrets how things went,” you mumbled. The wind picked up, sending chills down your spine. Regulus’s hands were always cold, leaving you to almost imagine it was him embracing you.
“This war will end one day, darling. When it does, I will make sure you are remembered for who you really were. I love you,” you said.
#regulus black#regulus black x reader#regulus black x y/n#regulus black x you#regulus black angst#marauders era#hp marauders#harry potter au#canon compliant#regulus black imagine#regulus black au#regulus black fanfiction#marauders imagine#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#slytherin boys angst#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin skittles#slytherin boys scenario
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
fey and flowers has laid me out and killed me dead
#i am THE bitch regency romance was made for#the fucking gasps i let out. the DRAMA. i b r e a t h e it#the amount of times i had to move my laptop so i wouldn't throw it every time rue and hob were on screen together#the fucking. the . it. they. i. fucking.#LET ME DO THE FIRST HONORABLE THING IN MY LIFE.#YOU WILL NEVER KNOW A LONELY DAY AGAIN AS LONG AS I DRAW BREATH#AHUFDSUADSYG#HAGSUASUGYAS#UUGUHGHGHG UEWAF SAG#A#BRENNAN! UNDERSTOOD! THE! ASSIGNMENT!#THEY WERE MONSTERS THEY WERE MONSTERS IN EVERY SENSE IN BODY IN STANDING IN THEIR OWN MINDS AND YET THEY FELL INTO THE PUREST LOVE IM GOING#TO KILL. EVERYTHING.#also as a side note im a hob and rue girlie above all else. but when andhera knelt and asked binx to knight them. i FELT THAT#d20#acofaf
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
won't you be my sunshine-a.h.
a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!
Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man.
This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.
The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.
Which isn’t to say that he has one.
There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk.
It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.
That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership.
Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you.
He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself.
“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning.
He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks.
“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”
She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection.
He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone.
He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation.
He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically.
It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this.
“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting.
“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride.
“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”
It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth.
He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips.
“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic.
It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?)
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner imagines#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner blurbs#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotch fic#hotch#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#ssa aaron hotchner#agent hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fic
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D
could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D
Thank you!
General Dating Headcanons | Alastor
a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Wordcount: 1991
Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder
(PLATONIC):
Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.
Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.
That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)
He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.
You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.
It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.
The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.
And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~
Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.
And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.
This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.
Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.
He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.
This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.
He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.
Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?
As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.
Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!
Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.
Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.
(ROMANTIC):
My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.
This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.
But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…
Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you.
You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.
Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend
He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you!
You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.
Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.
Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.
If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.
The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.
That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.
God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out.
He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.
Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”
If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.
One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.
Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more.
Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.
He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll
Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.
Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.
Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier.
You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.
It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.
Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.
#x reader#headcanons#dating headcanons#hazbin#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbinhotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#alastor#alastor x reader#gender neutral reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Iconic
pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader
summary: you make it your life goal to embarrass Oscar and annoy him, keeping things fun in his life
masterlist
———————————
“He’s so cute,” a girl sighs in the McLaren fan zone.
“He really is,” you smile, leaning against the barrier.
“Oh my god, hi!” the girl gasps, recognizing you from your boyfriend’s Instagram. You haven’t had social media since you were cyber bullied in middle school, so you were a mystery to his fans. It also let you go to fan zone and have fun with them. You also run a fan page for Oscar on Instagram.
“Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I am standing here?” you say, holding a folded poster in one of your hand and an arm full of friendship bracelets that Oscar helped you make.
“Not at all, oh my god. Sorry, it’s just that you are so iconic,” the girl says and you quirk your eyebrow.
“How so?”
“You don’t have social media which is iconic, but all the fans know how nice you are, and you are always hanging out with us here,” one of her friends say, you nod along.
“Of course I would be here, I gotta support Papaya boys,” you smile. “Wanna help me embarrass Osc?” you ask the group around you.
“It would legit be our honor,” the one laughs, you laugh with her.
“Here,” you take off some friendship bracelets and exchange them with the girls.
“You are the best WAG,” another girl says and you blush a little, dutifully putting on each bracelet.
“I really do try. I even run a fan account for Osc,” you laugh, not revealing more than that.
“No way, that’s actually icon behavior,” the first girl says and you grin.
“Want to see the sign?” you ask, excited to show your latest sign off. Oscar tried to look but you refused to even work on it until he left the hotel.
“Yes!” you are quick to unfold the sign. Your neat handwriting carefully placed each letter just large enough so Oscar could read it.
“Omg, I can’t wait to see his reaction,” one of the fans say, the area is brimming full now, ready for the drivers to come out in a couple minutes.
“Make sure you get pictures of his reaction, he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed,” you giggle, getting ready to hold the sign in front of you as Lando walk onto the stage, excited to see what you wrote this time. He reads it and laughs, turning towards where Oscar is entering. You watch his brows furrow as he reads it. Oscar- I want to eat you up like a pastry :). The Australian’s face turns bright red as he laughs and winks at you, trying to hide his awkward embarrassment at the pickup line. It wasn’t your best, but it was the perfect amount of cringe. Lando gives you a thumbs up from the stage.
“You were right, his face was priceless,” the fan says as you watch Oscar push back his mousy brown hair before putting the hat back on. You swear you might be drooling while watching him, but you catch his gaze falling on you too.
“I LOVE YOU OSCAR!” you yell as he waves goodbye to the fans, giving you a wink. You make sure all of your friendship bracelets are given away before thanking the fans for being cool about you chilling with them. You head back to the paddock, scanning your pass, and beelining to the McLaren motorhome.
“Y/n, can I have that sign?” Lando asks and you happily hand it over.
“As long as you don’t use it to steal my man, have at it,” you chuckle as the Brit hugs you in thanks before walking away.
“Eat me like a pastry?” Oscar gives you an amused smile. “You do know my parents watch that, right?” His favorite thing about you his your playfulness, you can be serious when needed, but your teasing and jests keep his life fun.
“Oh, I know, your mom helped me with that one, the fans loved it too,” you laugh. “You did look so hot up there,” you slightly exaggerate checking him out.
“Why don’t we go back to my drivers room and you show me how you’d like to eat me?” Oscar whispers in your ear, trying to seduce you, but you resist.
“Oh, I’d probably start with the thighs, best muscle to fat ratio in my opinion. Hm, now I’m kinda hungry, what is in hospitality?” you ask, moving towards the food area. Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him as he picks you up to carry you to his room.
“Nope, don’t start things you can’t finish,” he says, clearly a little hot and bothered.
“Osc, I’m not a cannibal, I don’t actually eat humans,” you tease, not giving up on what you started. Oscar clearly had a different interpretation, maybe the right one, maybe not.
“Shut up before I make you shut up,” Oscar growls in your ear, quickly turning you on and making you drop the joke.
“Yes, Mister Piastri,” you say, knowing it’s affect on him as he drags you into his room, locking the door behind him. Oscar was a couple minutes late to his meeting, Lando holding back giggles as Oscar walks into the room.
“I see the fans aren’t the only ones who love Y/n,” Lando whispers to Oscar, who shoots him a glare. Meanwhile, you scroll Instagram using your fan page, laughing as some of them post the pic of you and the sign, the comments calling on your to reveal yourself via the fan page. You make a post about it as well just to blend in, thirsting over Oscar as well. You can’t imagine if he ever finds out about the account.
“Good luck, Osc. Drive safe,” you kiss him before he puts his helmet on.
“I am always safe,” he gives you his usual awkward smile, you smile back as he puts his helmet on. He squeezes your hand before walking over to the car. You take a seat in the garage, the headphones unflattering as always.
Your stomach drops as there is a crash late in the race, but you are instantly relieved when you realize that Oscar made in through and no one was hurt. He ends up in P2 for the race and you join the team in celebrating at the podium.
“Thank you for being my number one fan, even when you run a secret fan account,” Oscar hugs you in his drivers room.
“How? What?” you play if off but he just laughs, pulling out his phone.
“My private account follows you,” oscar laughs, and you just stare at him.
“That’s actually you? I thought it was a fan,” you quickly pull out your phone and request to follow his account, which he immediately accepts so that you can see all the cute posts he makes about you.
“Stop, Osc, you’re basically running a fan account for me,” you say, admiring his posts, including one from today of you holding the sign. You quickly type a comment that has the other drivers replying like crazy claiming that they found your secret account.
“You two decent?” Mark Weber’s voice says through the door, after a confirmation from Oscar, he lets himself in.
“Why wouldn’t we be decent, Mark?” you ask from the couch.
“I used to be a driver too, and after your fan zone sign nothing is off the table,” Mark shrugs causing you and Oscar to blush. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you great race, I will see you in a few days,” Mark tells Oscar before leaving the room again. You still aren’t sure how Oscar was able to bag the former F1 driver as his manager. Oscar yawns and you notice how tired he is, sleepy Oscar is your favorite version of Oscar.
“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel, first loser,” you tease, helping him gather his things to leave.
“Hey,” he groans at the jab.
“You could be Lando NoWins, my love,” turning your jests onto his teammate.
“That is true,” Oscar yawns, holding your hand as he leads you to his chauffeured car.
“Osc, would you marry me if I was a worm?”
“Who said I’d marry you at all?”
“Alright, that’s it, I’m deleting your fan page,” you pull out your phone. Oscar basically tackles you in the back seat as he lunges for the phone.
“I take it back, I’ll marry you right now if you want,” Oscar pleads.
“Who said I wanted to marry you? Do I look like a worm?” you retort, putting your phone away. Oscar just sighs in defeat.
“God gives is strongest people his greatest challenges, I’m not strong enough for this,” he groans a few seconds later, the tiredness setting in.
“Sorry, baby, I promise you will get unlimited cuddles when we get back to the room,” you smile softly, holding his hand tight.
“I love you,” he whispers, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into your eyes.
“I love you too.”
#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#lando norris#unhinged behavior
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
BANANA MILK | jjk
pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader
genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst
word count: 5.6k
summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.
playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine
warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming
note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩
Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax. The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.
You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.
You were convinced it was your home.
A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.
You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.
The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.
You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”
He turns his head to face you from the side.
“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.
And he’s right. There are.
His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.
“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.
He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”
You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.
Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.
Banana milk.
“Come here.”
He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.
“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.
“I already drank mine.”
Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.
Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.
“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.
A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.
“I’m a man.”
Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.
“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.
Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks.
Wine. Neck. Tongue.
The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds.
Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed.
Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top.
“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness.
“That was my—”
“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you.
Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.
“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.”
Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.
“Really?”
“Yeah, went to the bookstore.”
Did you?
“Bought anything?”
His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention.
You don’t remember if you bought anything.
Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.
Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over.
A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?”
Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”
You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.
A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face.
He doesn’t kiss you.
He begins to talk.
“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy.
“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.”
You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth.
“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”
You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.
“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.”
“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch.
Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.
Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him.
“Leave it on.”
He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you.
Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”
You nod. “Yes, sir.”
Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”
“Hurry, she’s almost done.”
He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears.
He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.
“You should focus.”
“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness.
Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.
“For you always.”
He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction.
“Take it off of me,” you whine.
He comes up for air. “No.”
You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit.
You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face.
Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks.
You’re not.
Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him.
Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy.
“Focus,” he hisses.
You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like.
He spanks your pussy, another warning.
You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath.
It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil.
You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision.
Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all.
“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.”
His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him.
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.”
He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard.
It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you.
You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way.
You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week.
But emotionally?
Tears prick your waterline.
“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home.
Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments.
Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.”
“Okay.”
He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out.
The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need.
“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin.
You look at him and mewl.
“Eyes on the TV.”
He bites you.
You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?”
“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him.
He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?”
You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her.
Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.
You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release.
“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.”
He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does.
“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.”
A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly.
“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”
You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still.
He kisses you, then.
“Such a good girl for me. Well done.”
You struggle to catch your breath.
And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed.
“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.”
He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for.
“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.”
You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you.
Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh.
“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body.
Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.
You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you.
His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.
You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly.
“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.”
“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that.
His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess.
“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.”
You don’t have to be told twice.
Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get.
This is where you want to be, for all eternity.
You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it.
“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.”
You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.”
“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?”
A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.”
You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue.
“Keep your hand where it belongs.”
Your jaw falls open.
He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there.
You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.
“Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?”
You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it.
He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.”
You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind.
“That’s it.”
He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime.
Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.
He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder.
“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek.
You meow a soft sound that confirms his words.
“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”
There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you.
“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him.
He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours.
Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you.
You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you.
You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick.
His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth.
He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds.
“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?”
You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort.
“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.”
You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.
“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”
Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter.
You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars.
Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly.
“Stop or I’ll come.”
You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you.
“You want Daddy to come for you?”
“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak.
“Hold onto her then.”
He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of.
And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines.
He loses it completely.
Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you.
Two things you do make out when you come down.
A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you.
And something else entirely.
“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.”
He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong.
But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said.
You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you.
And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.
© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part three
#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#bts smut#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fluff#btscreatorscorner#kpop smut#jungkook one shot
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)
part one here and part two here
ending version 2 here
when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.
of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.
he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.
he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.
he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.
he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.
he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.
he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.
he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.
“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.
the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.
“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.
“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.
“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”
before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.
“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.
“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”
you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.
you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.
“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”
he gives a small nod. “understood.”
you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.
pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.
he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.
“nice place,” he says, and he means it.
you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.
you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.
you were never the problem.
he was.
“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.
best to get on with it, then.
“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”
you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.
“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”
your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.
“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”
“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”
god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.
“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”
“and what?” you interrupted.
“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”
you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.
“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”
he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”
“congrats,” you deadpanned.
“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”
“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”
“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.
you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.
“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”
silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.
“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.
he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.
“nothin’.” he said.
“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.
the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.
you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.
“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.
“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”
he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.
you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”
“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”
you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”
your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.
“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”
you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.
he turned and walked out the door.
————
author’s note:
muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!
this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)
#simon riley x gn reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#john price drabble#john price fic#john price x reader#john price#captain price angst#captain john price#Simon Riley angst#angst#hint of fluff#cod mw2 fic#ghost cod#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#john price cod#john price x you#ghost x gn reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen
Words: 1,544
Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss.
Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company.
Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)
Taglist | Masterlist | Patreon
At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.
Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.
It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.
—
Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.
“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?”
Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.”
The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?”
“Not that I can think of.”
There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.
“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room.
Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.”
“Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.”
“I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.”
Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?”
He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.”
“Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.”
“Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.”
Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?”
He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.”
It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.
Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.
“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.”
“Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.”
“Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?”
Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”
—
“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?”
Charles stares at him, “Mate.”
Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.”
“I want all the tacos in the world right now.”
“Margaritas as well?”
It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.”
Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.
“Food has been ordered.”
“Thank god. I’m starving.”
“Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse.
“God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.”
“It’s no problem.”
“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door.
“Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.
Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.
Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.
“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips.
Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.”
He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”
The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it.
Max snorts at the thumbs up.
“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.”
“Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.”
She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food.
“Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.”
“I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips.
“Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.
“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content.
“Is it a stupid one?”
“Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.”
“What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.”
“Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened.
“You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.”
“No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”
Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.
“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.”
His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.”
“You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.
@gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67
#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse comes out later today so I wanted to write a post reflecting on my journey and experience working on this movie. So many people have supported me through this and I am so thankful to each and every one of you!
Text version of this post under the cut:
Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse comes out tonight. It feels really weird to be typing that out right now. I worked on the movie as a visdev artist for the last 2.5 years, from 2020 to 2023. Long post incoming.
There are a lot of reasons why I'd consider this film to be one of the most ambitious animated films to ever be made. As artists, we were asked to push ourselves far beyond our comfort zones and do things that had never been done before in animation.
Every time we reached a point where most people would say "this must possibly be as creative and weird as it gets," our entire team of artists and animators would smash right through the ceiling. The driving direction for the visuals of the film was to push the limits of every single frame; to challenge audience expectations and make something truly original.
The best thing about this film was that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie. The hardest thing about this film was also that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie.
There were times while working on this where the imposter syndrome hit me hard. This was my first big movie, and what a hell of a first movie to get thrust into.
I came in only a few years out of school with absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing. I constantly feared that someone had made a mistake in bringing me onto this film, and I was going to let everyone down. There was a solid chunk of those 2.5 years where I wasn't sure if animation was the right path for me.
If there's anything I could tell my past self it would be this: there are so many people who love you and believe in you. There will be a time when you get to stand on the other side of it, look back on everything and see how far you came.
I'm still working on self-acceptance every day (it will be a lifelong struggle, I'm sure), but I'm glad I didn't give up on myself. I'm proud of myself and my contributions to this film, and I'm certain that this movie will continue to change and shape the animation landscape just as the first one did. That's truly a special feeling to have been a part of. I am so incredibly grateful to every single person who helped me along this journey.
Here come the thanks:
To the ENTIRE visdev & art crew- it's been an honor getting to work alongside each and every one of you. My jaw is literally still on the floor from seeing your incredible talent day after day.
I want to thank Tiffany and Felicia especially for being there for me through tough times- I admire and respect you both so much as artists, and even better than that, my life is greatly enriched for being able to call you my friends.
Thank you Patrick and Dean for taking chances on me, teaching me so much about art and what I'm capable of, and encouraging me along the way. To Aymeric, your art is one of the reasons I initially became interested in animation and you have been one of the kindest & most empathetic mentors I could ever have asked for.
I want to thank my wonderful parents for believing in me always and raising me into the person I am today: everything I do in life is to make you proud. To my brother Andrew who is perpetually awake at 3 AM when I need someone to talk to- thank you for always picking up the phone and making me laugh.
And finally to my partner Luke for making me grilled cheeses on all of the difficult days, for never getting sick of me even when all I would ever talk about was work, and for patiently and steadfastly loving me throughout this entire thing. I don't think I could've done it without you.
Starting tomorrow I will begin posting and sharing some of the art I made for this movie; I'm looking forward to sharing some of my personal favorites with you. I hope each and every one of you enjoys Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse when it hits theaters later today!
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
۪۫❁ུ۪۪𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 °࿐
—a/n: first thing i wrote after hiatus so still a bit rusty but i tried my best to deliver my emotions. If this gets good response, I'll do part 2. Not proofread. fem!reader
#mlist #taglist #art commissions
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐎𝐖𝐒
For someone who's so confident, Satoru for the first time found himself anxious, legs trembling in the wonderment of what his bext action should be. He was standing at the altar in his neat pale grey suit. All eyes were fixated on him. But that's not what made him nervous. It was how he would react when he sees you. And just then, you appeared like the fragment of his best intentions.
The wedding band started playing the theme. Your white flowy satin dress dancing to the rhythm of the wind. Your beautiful face concealed a little from the veil. You looked so perfect. And just when you finally reached the altar, you stood parallel to him, smiling and satisfied with his reaction. You've never seen him so engorged in something—or someone.
The minister asked him to proceed with the vows.
"Y/N L/N. I usually am the one to talk a lot. But for the first time, I am short of words." You smiled at him.
"I think it's crazy how I see you everyday, but somehow you still manage to take my breath away with how beautiful you are. I know I call myself the honored one...but trust me darling, I am nothing but a fish in your ocean. You...you are my everything. And when I say that, I mean it. I want you to know that if the world is ever against you, I'll be in the front protecting you with all I have. I love you so much, baby." It feels like he's choking on his words.
This man that just said thst he's at loss for words, proceeded to make you tear up with a poetry. You've never been love so much in life. It feels unreal. But you know it's all true when as soon as you say "I do" his lips are on yours, reminding that every touch you feel is real.
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄
The hall was decorated with white lillies and tulips that you loved so much. People grooving and chattering to the background music. Soon it was time for the moment you've been waiting for. The dance. Your first dance with Geto. The lights dimmed and the spotlight hit the floor as you and Suguru walked into the bright refraction on the floor. The crowd dispersing away to give the newly married couple their full attention.
One of his hands was on your waist while the other intertwined one of yours.
Put your head on my shouuulder...
You both smiled wide as you couldn't have asked for a better song. This was the song that you once told Geto you'd like to dance to. Since then, he remembered to play twirl you around to Paul Anka at every occasion. And this one had to be the best one yet.
Hold me in your arms, baby...
He mouthed the words and you couldn't help but giggle. Suguru doesn't usually sing but he has this deep voice that blend perfectly to the song. It sounds like heaven.
"Get ready to dance to this every anniversary, my love," he whispered.
The room was filled with so many people. Yet, when your eyes recasted your signature "i love you" look, he suddenly felt the world disappear, and only you two exist.
That's when he realized, he really did get lucky when you fell in love with him.
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍
As always, you woke up late. It's surprising how Toji looks like the one who'd be irresponsible when it's actually you. But hey! He can't complain about it. Weddings and Receptions are tiring. If he could, he'd let you sleep for one whole day if you didn't have a flight to catch. You quickly got dressed and rushed to the airport with your man.
The flight was awful since you were irritated by the snorer next to you. Trust me. You wanted to stuff the macadamia nuts in his nostrils but Toji stopped you from doing so. He had a better and more rational solution of putting headphones over your ears and playing you your favorite song. Your lips widened when his thumb started circling your thighs to calm you and make you relax.
Upon arriving to the hotel, you finally took a big stretch to wash all the tiredness away.
"IT'S HONEYMOON TIME, BABY!!"
You jumped in excitement and pretty much everyone at the entrance was staring at you and Toji. He won't stop you though. He loves watching you dance around everytime you're happy.
You both walked towards the receptionist, with Toji carrying all the luggage. Gotta use the big beefy man privilege baby.
"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"
"Good afternoon. We reserved a suite here a week ago."
"Okay. May I please know the name you reserved it under?" she asked.
"Oh it's Mr. And Mrs. Fushiguro." The moment those words left your lips, Toji felt his world shift. He knew that you were a Fushiguro when you signed the marriage certificate. He knew it when you said "I do" at the altar. He knew it when he placed the ring on your finger. But hearing it from your mouth made him have butterflies in his stomach. Wow. You are really his. He couldn't for one second believe it.
"So this is how heaven feels like," he mumbled.
"You said something, baby?"
"Oh nothing, my love. Just that you're beautiful "
"I'm running on four hours of sleep. My under eyes are darker than your black shirt," you whispered.
"I don't know what you're talking about. You're still the most beautiful person to exist," he argued and you just rolled your eyes. You genuinely wanted to know how he manages to find you beautiful at every occasion.
"Are you in denial?"
"No, darling. I am in love."
Taglist: @sugurini @princess-okkotsu @saturnsoups @cookingforsatoru @oldbutnotold @rin-vana @bimbno @arisaturn @tojigasam @bxrnthyfears @gojoxxluv @seqeva @nanamikentoseyebags @stariwrites @sluttoru @lvmxn @greycaelum @kokonoiscoconut @deskaisers @icyowl @thesimphouse @anxious-chick @monimonieee @sweet-yzabelle @keichartreusely @arguablyferal @kannra21 @bbytamaki @rwibbnz @ta-ni-ya @mamayan @strawwbee @jesi-pinkman @fueledbysano @psychiccloudobject @baewriites @wystericwoes @his-saiko
#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#toji x reader#jjk fluff#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk scenarios#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo fluff#geto fluff#toji fluff#gojo x you#geto x you#toji x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x fem!reader#gojo x fem!reader#geto x female reader#toji x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
DO IT FOR HIM
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader
Summary: Leon catches a particular item on your stuff.
Warnings: cute, two idiots in love, FLUFFY FLUFF, comedy, domestic!leon
Author's Notes: inspiration for this came from The Simpsons obvs and this amazing artwork from @emahriel. thank you so much giving me the honor to use it for my little fic! you should all check her blog, she has amazing artwork! i hope this fills your day with joy as much as i had fun writing it!
my leon's masterlist
"What is that?"
You and Leon have been cleaning your bedroom. The idea came from you: to let the energy flow around the house by donating and throwing away old items. Well, you were, at least. Leon is lying in bed, still wearing pajama pants and a shirt, although it is 4 pm. He deserves his rest, he says, and you agree. Because only Leon looks gorgeous in simple grey pants and a white shirt with a hole in the armpits. No complaints on your side.
"What is that?" Leon asks as you sit on the floor, surrounded by old stuff "That. Right there," Leon points, and your eyes follow. It is just your old collection of mangas.
"This?"
"No, behind it. That small little glass frame. What is on it?"
Small little glass…oh, crap. You immediately realize what it is, your stomach twisting. You thought you threw away that long ago before you and Leon moved together. It was a cute piece you made for yourself when you met him, feeling like a teenager in love again. It was never in your plans for Leon to see it.
"No-nothing. It's probably an old art project of mine," You try to place the frame with its face down, thinking of a way to get rid of it, before Leon, faster than you, is at your side, pulling from your hands. "Wait, Leon!"
When Leon turns the frame around, he paralyzes. It is his face. There are numerous pictures of him smiling, looking seriously at the camera, and even admiring the background scenery. There were a few of his younger self as well. And behind it, written in your handwriting in big black bold letters, DO IT FOR HIM. Leon looks at you, a smile appearing on his face, and he feels his cheek heat up.
You don't see that, your face hidden behind your hands. It was just a silly thing you did to help you during work. You placed it on your table to remind yourself to stay strong, even when things got hard.
You peek between your fingers to see Leon isn't in there anymore. Well, there you cringed the man of your life, and he probably regretted marrying you. Or, knowing Leon, he left to give a good laugh without embarrassing you.
Leon comes back, his wallet in his hands. You wait until he sits by your side and hands you the wallet.
"Open it."
You do as you are told, feeling Leon's gentle stare. You hadn't seen anything special in his wallet before besides cards and ID. You look up, and he motions for you to open his wallet. You do it, finding a small folded piece of paper.
"What is this?" You ask, cautious.
"Unfold it."
You wrinkle your forehead, opening the paper and looking at him surprised. It is one of the first pictures you took together after Raccoon City, and you just started dating. Although it was supposed to be a selfie together, Leon accidentally cut himself almost entirely out of the picture, focusing on you and your big happy smile. The paper seemed to have been folded and unfolded plenty of times. When you look at Leon, his face visibly red now, he confesses, his voice low.
"Helped a lot in dark times, believe me."
"Why this one specifically?"
"It was the first time you told me you loved me. I like to remember that."
Without being able to control yourself anymore, sniffling, you throw yourself in Leon's arms, hiding your face on his neck.
"Are you crying?" Leon wonders with a smile. When you don't answer, he rubs your back, whispering in your ear, "I still love you as much as that day."
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon x reader#leon x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy fanfics#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy imagines#leon kennedy imagine#is this my apology for writing emptiness? no not really lol
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Pregnant!Wife!Reader
Headcanons and Scenarios
Am I back with baby fever? I mean yeah but this is less baby fever and more if Husband!Simon in honor of my first ever post that reached 1k likes in 4 days. Also you guys know Ghostie by now right? @connorsui mentioned that she wonders how Ghost and the reader met, guess who's writing about that?
Edit: SHIT, THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR SO LONG AND I FORGOT TO ADD CREDIT, I'M SO SORRY. The render above is by @ave661
Taglist: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @theredurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb
Also @puff0o0, my most favorite moot has helped me come up with how they met, UGH ILYYY <333
My CoD Masterlist <3
Warnings/Disclaimers: Reader is pregnant, sick!Reader, mentions of vomiting (not detailed), pain of birth and all the other pregnancy warnings out there. (Extreme fluff)
❥ Husband!Simon who had no fucking clue how to react when you first told him you got pregnant, I mean he knew at some point it would happen but not this soon?!
❥ Husband!Simon who in your early stages of pregnancy was the one holding your hair up while you empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet most mornings. He was the one who had a warm hand gently rubbing up and down your back while mumbling light encouragements, careful not to agitate you from the sickening feeling.
❥ Husband!Simon who was gradually getting the hang of things, getting clingier the further into the pregnancy. Once the baby bump comes in, bye bye personal space, Dad!Simon needs to have his hand on the bump no less than 10 times a day.
❥ Husband!Simon who is a sucker for kissing the baby bump, especially your stretch marks. He will be more gentle if you ask him to because your ticklish, but don't expect none of his stuble.
❥ Husband!Simon whose breath hitches when you took his large calloused hand onto your baby bump and felt movement, he had to blink twice up at you and look down again. Only now it was two hands holding the bump, waiting for more kicks.
❥ Husband!Simon who lets you do all the shopping with baby stuff because he has no idea what looks cute, every once in a while showing you something he thinks looks good and asks for your approval.
❥ Husband!Simon who looks back up at you in concern as he hears you whimper, as much as he wants more movement and feel the little one kick, you were in pain and uncomfortable. Some soothing words might help..?
You let out a soft whimper as you felt the baby kick again, god did she have her father's strength..
Simon still had his warm and heavy hand on the bump, feeling the little one's movement.
"Pumpkin.. give your momma a rest, she needs some sleep" Simon sleepily mutters. Just like that the movement stops.
"I swear she only ever listens to your voice, it's obvious that she's already a daddy's girl"
❥ Husband!Simon who is more than obsessed with the baby bump, albeit his ear over the bump to hear the baby, big calloused hands always have to be some place on it. You'll just find your husband clinging onto your bump, his head on your chest while his arms are wrapped around the loves of his life.
❥ Husband!Simon who was far more panicked than you were during the birth, he literally cannot even pay attention to the pain of your hand almost breaking his from the gripping because his heart is pounding in his chest while you push out the baby.
❥ Husband!Dad!Simon who was trembling the moment you forced him to open up his arms so he could hold the baby. She's so tiny, her whole body almost fits in just one of his hands. The moment he held her, she stopped wailing, trying so hard to open her little eyes.
❥ Husband!Dad!Simon couldn't help but pull you up into his arms too because you couldn't move up from exhaustion. Your hand on the little one's body that was cradled by her dad, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders while he kissed your sweaty forehead, singing praises to you about how thankful he is that you brought life to your little girl together.
A/n: Hi guys, just to start off. I haven't been in a good space for a while now, I don't think I'm in the right headspace either. Not to say I'm taking a break, fuck no, I'd lose all my relevance if I did and I also think that taking a break from this won't be good for me or you guys because I don't want history to repeat itself.
If you guys don't know yet, I've been on the break in 2020 and didn't officially start writing again till 2023, finally entering a different fandom. I feel like taking a break would result into this whole thing again and I can't go through that all over again. I love writing so much and it hurt when I lost all my relevance on Wattpad.
My personal life outside of Tumblr is weird to explain, see things haven't been good regarding my situation with a friend. Neither do I feel good in school, everything in that place just sucks except for two other closer friends. There's still the dreadful 3 weeks left till Christmas vacation. Not only that but I get anxiety over so many things that may be little to most of you.
A mutual of mine so graciously has given me ideas for the next Ghostie posts, I love them, it's accurate and it's great and all however some part of me makes me feel so insignificant. Like why didn't I think of that? Why am I even writing if I'm just relying on other people's ideas? This is no shade to that mutual, thank you so much, hell I loved everything they told me. It's just always my anxiety and insecurities getting the better of me.
Apologies for the length of this. I'm quite busy and my clumsy fingers accidentally published something again 😭Anyway, more Ghostie content is on it's way :))
#cod x reader#aethelwyne lia writes#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#ghost x plus size reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x y/n#dad!ghost#dad!simon
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
CW: A literal Serial Killer, obv gore description.
Yan! Serial Killer who didn't expect to fall head over heels for you, his supposed next victim. Don't get him wrong, he still wishes he could just yank those eyeballs out of your eye sockets and dip them into his cup of tea but he will refrain from doing so, just yet.
Yan! Serial Killer who loves to hide under your bed and waits for you to either fall asleep, stay up like a bat, or do your business. He's savoring every little noise you make like a fine wine.
Yan! Serial Killer who will actually stay in your home like he lives in it. Won't hesitate to make himself a dinner if you are a heavy sleeper (can always just knock you out with sleeping pills). That said he will also shower in your home, savoring the scent of the products you are using
Yan! Serial Killer who actually helps you in one way or another! Oh goodie, you ran out of soap! Here, let him refill it for you. Wait, you got a stain on your shirt. tsk tsk tsk, this will do justice. Hm? Are we running out of eggs? A visit to the market will solve the problem!
Yan! Serial Killer who loves to collect the eyeballs of anyone who dares to look at you for more than 5 seconds adoringly. He's lucid enough to differentiate which one to be spared and which one is not.
Yan! Serial Killer who almost squeals happily when you acknowledge him indirectly. "Perhaps my fairy godmother has finally come to help me," you quoted.
Yan! Serial Killer who can't help but stroke one out on your sleeping figure, his hand lifting your pajama up to reveal your chest. He will go as far as to rub his cock against your sex then whoops, plunge it into your hole <3
Yan! Serial Killer who contemplates whether he should cum inside you or not. One thing leads to another, and he chooses not to (It's rather troublesome to wash you up so he just came inside your mouth <3
!! Gore Warning !! (You don't have to read it if you are not a fan of it, nb: Cannibalism and Necrophilia + Backstory)
Yan! Serial Killer who somehow adores the idea of gutting you and feeling your innards, tasting how your heart beats against his tongue, or playing with guts as though he is making dough.
Yan! Serial Killer who adores you so much that he won't stop rutting against you, fucking you despite your state, cold and unmoving. Dead. He might even treat himself by burying himself deep in your guts huh?
Yan! Serial Killer who will not let death separate you two. Didn't you know that the reason he fell for you? Ah, you didn't know why he is branded as a serial killer too right?
Erickson is a man of wonder, due to his upbringing as the first heir of an infamous dukedom, he has been spoiled rotten with everything he has always wanted.
Nonetheless, he feels like he has never even once been given what he truly wanted because the supposed first heir is supposed to be his twin brother, Noel, who came out first.
In the mansion where his family resided, there was a servant who caught his twin brother's heart. A girl, or a boy? He pondered. It appeared that you were an orphan that his mother took in out of pity for your state.
It was not love nor fascination. It was the urge to take and destroy what Noel possessed and adored. And this kept going even until the three of you grew up as adults.
He would do anything to tarnish his brother's life, his position, his honor, and his beloved. That would also include you, his unrequited lover whom he accidentally met during his killing spree.
It was boredom that killed him and killing people kept him away from boredom. But you? You surely would not fail to ease his boredom for you were whom his brother longed for.
And what Noel longed for would be what Erickson longed for as well, alas loving you in his stead.
#Erickson the Chosen#CatboX#Yandere x Reader#Yandere Smut#Yandere Headcanons#Yandere Imagines#Yandere scenarios
918 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
garysking
Gary King Music
sambucasa
Sambucasa no Tumblr
ameyuji
Ameyuji's Portfolio
jesshurley
Jess Hurley
ameyuji
Ameyuji's Portfolio