#(and I still don't have the ones i want. finding pictures is SO HARD lol) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

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𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, quite a bit of fluff, innocence corruption, masturbation, use of toys, getting caught, handjob (kinda), voyeurism/exhibitionism, religious kink, sexualization of religious imagery, slow burn, mommy kink (sorry lol), sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: dont read this if you're religious - it will offend you. this is part two of me & u. you can read part one here. 💖 there will be more parts to this story, so stick around. also, disclaimer: don't spy on people and watch them without their permission. 😭 this is just fantasy.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: after getting to know and hanging out with the innocent, virgin christian boy who recently moved in next door, he starts exploring his sexuality with you, and the two of you start falling in love with each other.

me & u part two

"Your mom wasn't mad that you were smoking, was she?" Matt timidly asked you through the phone later on that day as he was rifling through kitchen appliances and finding a place to store them.

"No, I'm an adult. She doesn't care what I do. She was calling me in for lunch," you snorted, tugging at a loose thread on your blanket while you laid on your bed, still in your fairy dress and laying down with your feet kicking behind you.

Matt was thankful your mom wasn't upset with you, but he was annoyed that your first kiss with him was interrupted by something as menial as lunch.

"Well, what did you eat?" Matt wondered, trying to find a way to ask you to hang out again. "Just a sandwich and some macaroni," you told him. "W-what kind of sandwich?" Matt stammered, beating around the bush.

"Did you really call me to hear me talk about a turkey sandwich?" You chuckled. "I mean, I wanted to hear about your sandwich and to see if you wanted to hang out again," Matt shyly replied, biting his nails.

"Depends. What did you have in mind?" You inquired, teasing him and knowing you were going to say yes regardless of what he suggested the two of you do.

"We could go buy paint for my room. You could help me pick out a color," Matt said, hoping you'd say yes. "I'd love that. I'll be over soon. I just need to shower and get out of these clothes," you replied, smiling at how cute Matt sounded through the phone.

He couldn't help but picture you slipping out of your fairy dress.

"O-okay. Cool, I-I'll see you soon," Matt tripped over his words as you two hung up the phone. You put on a black tank top and a pair of jean shorts after your hasty shower, and you hurried over, eager to see Matt again.

You knocked on his door and patiently waited for him to answer. He was in a solid black t-shirt and jeans, and he was wearing a silver chain around his neck with a cross on it. "Ready to go?" You asked him, looking him up and down. "Yeah, let's go," Matt said, smiling at you and pulling his front door closed behind him.

On the ride to go pick out paint, Matt kept stealing glances at you at stoplights and stop signs, wondering if it would be the right time to try and re-do your first kiss, but every time he thought about leaning in, it felt too forced.

You could feel this, the way he was desperately looking for a chance to press his lips against yours, but you knew the perfect time would come again, and you didn't want to rush it.

You liked making him wait, but this didn't mean you weren't going to relentlessly tease him.

"Are you dying to hear how hard I came with my new toy?" You smirked over at Matt who looked back over at you wide-eyed. "Y-you already used it?" Matt studdered. "No. But I figured you were wondering if I had," you teased him. He blushed and grinned.

"I actually wanted to wait until I could use it in front of you," you admitted, your voice dripping with lust as you peered over at him and raised an eyebrow. "W-what?" He struggled to get out.

It was far too much fun to watch him blush and fidget. You couldn't get enough of his flushed, pink cheeks, his puppy dog eyes, and the desperate expression that would subtly make itself known everytime you'd tease him. And you knew just what to do and say to elicit these kinds of responses from him.

Once you guys stumbled upon a local store that sold paint, the two of you wandered over to the earth tones. "Now, really take your time making this decision. This is going to be the color of the paint in your room. You're going to have to see it every day," you told Matt when you saw all the different options they had.

Matt was scanning through different swatches of all the cool-toned paints when one caught his attention. "I like this one," he told you, pointing at the dark green shade on the page. "I love that color," you responded, taking the swatch from him and looking on the wall for the matching paint. "I think I found it," you told him, smiling and picking up a bucket.

Matt grabbed a second bucket of paint, a few paint brushes, some plastic covering, and the two of you paid for it all and left the store. "I'm so excited," Matt told you, his eyes lighting up as he spoke.

The two of you rode home in a comfortable silence, and you helped Matt carry the paint up the stairs to his room. You two decided to go your separate ways for the night to go eat dinner and get ready for bed, so you'd be well-rested for the next day.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon line, illuminating the summer evening as Matt walked you to your doorstep. "I had fun with you today," Matt told you, his eyes fixed on yours. "I did, too," you replied.

"Maybe tomorrow you could paint it with me. You know, unless you have other plans," Matt shrugged, trying to hide how disappointed he would be if you did. "You know, I'm sorry. I'm busy tomorrow. I'm helping the hot neighbor boy paint his room," you jokingly replied.

He chuckled at your response, and then he pulled you into a long hug. You smiled against his chest, savoring how it felt to hold him, and when you went to pull away, you glanced up at him lovingly.

The two of you felt that familiar magnetic pull, and he leaned down until his lips were gently locked onto yours. His kiss was soft and tender, like his personality, and you both felt that spark that you'd always heard people talk about but hadn't experienced up until this point.

He reached up and cradled your face, lightly running his thumb back and forth over your cheek. Your tongue gently swirled around against his, and for how inexperienced he was, he was an incredible kisser. He moaned against your lip before the two of you slowly pulled away.

You were both even more smitten than before. Matt blushed, and you let out a soft giggle. "I'll see you tomorrow," you whispered as you slipped into your front door.

Matt stayed put on your porch for a few minutes, buzzing from the intimate moment he'd just shared with you, and he slowly made his way back to his house, tucking his erection into his waistband that he got from kissing you.

Later that night, after eating a delicious dinner, taking a steamy shower, and brushing your teeth, you switched out your lamp and got into your warm bed. A few seconds after you climbed into your bed to finish off your day, Matt's light came on across the way.

You watched again as he stepped out of his bathroom in just a towel, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looked so hot. You held your breath as the fabric around his waist hit the floor.

You'd imagined Matt naked at least a dozen times since you'd met him, and you were finally seeing it in person. And although you weren't getting a close-up view, you could see his hard member standing at attention. And it was big.

You didn't believe in God, but you did thank whoever was out there listening as you watched Matt climb onto his bed, lay on top of his blanket, and begin to stroke himself.

You hoped he was thinking about you, and he was. He was replaying the moment you two had kissed.

You continued peering in through his window, admiring the way he tenderly ran his thumb over the tip, causing him to throw his head back. He kept his movements slow and drawn out at first, teasing himself.

You couldn't hear the sounds he was making, but you couldn't stop imagining his needy little whimpers. You intently focused on the way he fisted his gorgeous cock, guiding his hand up and down his shaft and his strokes becoming faster, rougher, and more urgent.

You spied on him for several minutes, unable to shift your gaze away from the glorious sight of the cute neighbor boy all alone in his room, tugging on his dick. Your pussy began throbbing and drooling without you even touching it as you kept your eyes locked on Matt and what he was doing to himself.

He started to squirm around beneath his own touch, bucking his hips up, and you watched in awe as several spurts of cum shot out of his tip and painted his stomach and chest.

His hand that was gliding up and down his length slowed to a stop, and he took the towel he'd just used after his shower to wipe himself off. Even the way he cleaned up the mess he made was incredibly sexy.

He put on a pair of pajama pants once he was finished and knelt down by the foot of his bed to pray. The show he put on for you was so hot and naughty that you almost wondered if you should start praying for forgiveness.

Before you could follow that thought too deeply or do anything about the wetness that had pooled between your legs, you found yourself drifting off to sleep while more images of Matt flooded your mind.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The next morning at about 5 a.m., you groggily rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn. You checked your phone for the time, and when you realized how early it was, you rolled over onto your other side and shut your eyes, hoping to be able to fall back asleep.

When all your efforts failed, you decided to go up to your treehouse, bringing a thin blanket with you for a morning marijuana and masturbation session - the two things that always helped you fall asleep.

You admired the way the sunrise lit up the view from your secret hideaway while you exhaled weed smoke, watching the way it danced and dissipated against the scenery before you. A tranquil state came over you, and you felt all light and airy after a few hits.

Being cautious not to burn yourself with the lit end of your joint, you shimmied out of your underwear and your pajama shorts and spread open your legs. You took your new suction vibrator, turned it on, and gasped as you lowered the buzzing toy onto your clit. It was unlike any vibrator you'd owned before, and it immediately had you moaning and shuddering at the sensation.

"Oh, Matt.." you softly whined over and over while you remembered the night before and the way you'd witnessed him make a mess all over himself. You took another puff from your joint. You were so enthralled by the stimulation and so lost in the way you were needily whining the neighbor boy's name, you didn't realize the man of your fantasies had followed you up to your treehouse and was watching you the same way you'd watched him.

He was already crawling in through the entrance before he realized he was intruding on an intimate moment you were having with yourself. He thought about clearing his throat or forcing out a cough to make his presence known, maybe even turning around and leaving before he could embarrass you, but he held his breath, and all he could do was stay put and admire how pretty and wet your pink pussy was.

It was the first time he'd ever seen anything like it in person, and he couldn't get enough. He grew incredibly hard as he studied the way your eyes were slammed shut and the needy and pleasured expression that overcame your face while you held your lit joint up to your parted lips. "Oh, Matt.." you whimpered again after exhaling the smoke, your legs beginning to quiver.

To Matt's horror, you opened your eyes, and while you were shocked that he was watching you, you didn't stop. "I-I'm so sorry. I woke up and looked out my window, and I saw you going to your treehouse. I thought you could use some company. I had no idea you were-" Matt started defending himself, but you cut him off.

"Shh. Please don't go. It feels so good to have you watching me," you whined with the vibrator still resting on your clit. "You're moaning my name an awful lot.." Matt murmured with his eyes fixated on the treasure between your thighs. You took another hit and slowly nodded at him.

"You like watching, don't you, naughty boy?" You managed to get out between your satisfied mewls. "I do, mommy," Matt whispered back, palming himself through the thin flannel fabric he had on. The way it sounded when Matt called you mommy sent waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. You couldn't take it anymore.

The way he peered down at your pussy with his puppy dog eyes, whimpering alongside you while you were playing with it was too good, and your whole body violently shook as you let out a few more needy moans.

"Holy shit," you and Matt both said in unison as your cum slowly leaked out of your pussy. "Did you just swear?" You asked wide-eyed and sneering at the innocent boy, turning off your toy. He threw his hand over his mouth, giving you a deer in the headlights look. "I-I didn't mean to," he stumbled over his words.

"Naughty, naughty boy," you seductively responded, putting out the joint and shaking your head. You noticed the wet spot on the front of Matt's flannel pajamas. "Did you finish just from watching me?" Your lips curled into a malicious grin. "I mean. I rubbed it a little through my pants, but yeah," Matt said in an embarrassed tone, looking down like he was ashamed.

"Come here, pretty boy," you gestured towards him. You pulled him close and pulled the thin blanket over the both of you. You guys looked into each other's eyes and shared another kiss, each of your lips touching and creating a circuit through which an electric feeling ran through your bodies.

You loved kissing Matt, and he loved kissing you. It was unlike any feeling either of you had felt before. You pulled him in even closer, and the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms in your treehouse as the sun came up.

A couple hours later, you woke up on the hard floor of your treehouse next to the cute neighbor boy who was softly snoring next to you. You didn't want to wake him because he was sleeping so soundly, but all it took was a subtle movement from you, and he began to stir.

"Morning," he softly groaned as he opened his eyes and stretched his arms out overhead. "I had fun with you earlier," you whispered to him, biting your lip. He smiled at you, his cheeks turning pink. "I did, too."

He couldn't get the image of you touching yourself out of his head. All he could think about was your pretty pink flower between your legs and the sound of his name escaping your soft lips.

Like he was most mornings when he first woke up, he was incredibly hard, and he subtly tucked his erection into his waistband, hoping you wouldn't notice, but you did.

"How about we both go change and get ready for the day? Then we can go get coffee? I'll buy," you asked Matt, gently running your fingers across his chest. "Yeah, sure," he whispered. The two of you went your separate ways for a bit, sharing another kiss before you did.

When you got back to your house, you showered, washed your face, and climbed into a pair of washed-out jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt that you wouldn't mind getting paint on. You grabbed a granola bar and an apple on your way out, skipping over to the neighbor boy's house.

Before you could even knock on his door, Matt was turning the knob and stepping out onto his porch. "Hey, long time no see," you told him, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, and your opened your eyes wide when you realized you could see the faint outline of his cock through the cotton fabric.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Matt asked, teasing you. "You wore these on purpose, didn't you? You little temptress," you responded, nibbling on your lip. "I don't know what you're talking about," Matt casually responded, playing dumb and smirking to himself.

"Why'd you wear something so revealing then, hmm?" You wondered. "Why are you looking, perv?" Matt chuckled, getting into his orange truck.

The two of you started off down the road towards the nearest coffee shop, and as Matt drove, a naughty idea crossed your mind. You peered over at him, running your fingers along the inside of his thigh as he blew through a stop sign due to you distracting him.

He subtly gasped as you grazed his cock that was beginning to harden. It was the first time he'd ever been touched by anyone but himself. "W-what if God's watching?" Matt nervously questioned. "Then God's a little freak," you whispered back, sneering at him.

"You can't say that about God," Matt gasped, peering over at you. "But I just did," you said, poking the inside of your teeth with your tongue. "Please.. do it again," he sweetly whined. "You like that?" You asked, gently squeezing it, eliciting a whimper from the cute boy beside you. He bit his lip and shook his head yes.

"You better keep your eyes on the road, baby," you whispered, gently caressing it with your nails through the grey cotton that was beginning to strain. Before you knew it, the reactions you were getting from Matt as you teased his sensitive dick were getting to you. You felt your panties become all wet and sticky as Matt softly moaned beside you, using all his strength to pay attention to the road.

He approached a red light and gripped the steering wheel for dear life before letting out a loud groan. "Naughty boy. Like when mommy plays with you?" You asked seductively, moving your hand back and forth faster. "Oh, yes, mommy," he cried out.

He couldn't stop what was about to happen next. It was the first time anyone besides himself had ever given him that incredible release, and he let out a desperate mewl as he coated the inside of his pant leg with his cum.

"Wow. That was fast," you teased him. He looked over at you breathlessly with his glazed over blue eyes. "I tried to hold back as much as I could. I'm sorry," Matt responded quietly in a shameful tone, looking down at the mess he'd made in his sweats. "I know you did, baby. You did so good for me," you whispered, cradling his face and looking at him sympathetically.

The light switched to green, and he continued driving, embarrassed by how quickly he'd finished. "Well, I guess we're going through the drive thru," Matt stated, still blushing at the obvious wet spot.

He ordered the two of you coffee from the driver's side, for you, a frozen caramel drink and for himself, a black coffee, and you paid for it like you said you would. Matt thanked you for the coffee as well as the over-the-pants handjob you'd given him, and the two you made your way back to Matt's to get started on painting his room.

When you arrived back, you and Matt slipped into his house and up the stairs without alerting his dad, for which Matt was extremely grateful, so he wouldn't have to come up with an excuse as to why there was a questionable damp spot on the front of his sweats.

"I have to change my underwear for the second time today because of you. So scram," Matt told you, gesturing for you leave the room while he changed. "Oh, relax. I've already seen it," you shrugged and rolled your eyes.

"What?" Matt asked, widening his gaze in your direction. "Oh. Um," you innocently smiled at him. "What do you mean by that?" He asked. "I have a confession to make," you mumbled. Matt stayed quiet, but he looked at you intently, waiting for your admission.

You glanced across the way at your bedroom window. "So, my room is right there, and I can kind of see everything you do from the comfort of my bed," you pointed at the spot you watched him from last night, smirking and recalling how good he looked while getting off.

"You've been spying on me?" Matt asked accusingly, narrowing his blue eyes at you. "Not spying! I just happened to look up, and you dropped your towel," you said defensively.

"Oh, no. Did you see anything else?" Matt nibbled on his lip and shot you a nervous expression. "I might have watched you jerk off," you snickered. "I can't believe you watched me!" Matt exclaimed, feeling violated.

"And you're telling me that this morning when you walked in on me in my treehouse that you wouldn't have watched me until I finished if I didn't know you could see me?" You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. "Ugh. Fine. I guess I get it," Matt voice became softer as he realized his hypocrisy.

"Plus, I thought it was really hot," you said in a lustful voice while your gaze was fixed on his pink lips. "I'm still changing in the bathroom," Matt smiled at you, grabbing a change of clothes and heading into the other room, loudly locking the door behind him.

When he came back out, he was in some old jeans that already had some paint on them. The two of you started opening up the cans and setting down plastic and newspapers to keep the paint off the floor. Matt knew he was going to love the color the second he dipped the brush in the dark green liquid and began stirring it around.

"Oh my god. It's gonna look so good!" You told Matt after you painted a stripe on the white wall. "I already love it. Especially because we're painting it together," he looked over at you and grinned. You continued coating the wall in the first layer of dark green while you and Matt talked.

"So, did you write in your diary about me last night?" You teased him. "Shut up," he scoffed at you. "That's no way to talk to a lady," you said, taking your brush and slapping paint onto his arm. He gasped and pulled back.

"Oh, there's nothing lady-like about you," Matt replied, taking his paint brush and touching your face with it. You looked at him in disbelief. "You're right. You're more of a lady than me," you said, sticking your hand in the paint and slapping Matt on the ass, leaving a dark green handprint on his back pocket.

The two of you started laughing until your cheeks hurt and your stomachs started aching. Matt pulled you into another kiss, and you smiled against his soft lips as the two of you explored the inside of each other's mouths, leaving one another with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Before the two of you could get too carried away, Matt broke off the kiss, and you got back to painting until you'd covered every wall in an even coat of dark green. You guys looked at each other, proud of the work you'd done together.

"You know, I don't usually fall for people this easy, but I really like you," you admitted to Matt once the two of you had finished and were sitting on his plastic-covered floor. "I don't usually fall for weed-smoking peeping toms, but I like you, too," Matt teased you.

part three posted 💖

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froggibus · 4 months ago

Note

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react.

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first.

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth.

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can.

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is.

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops.

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away.

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into.

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding.

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him.

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.”

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize.

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’.

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head.

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts.

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination.

“You can relax.” Dick hums.

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on.

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.”

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place.

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?”

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it.

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more.

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!”

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh.

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are.

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here?

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before.

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly.

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow.

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly.

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours.

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs.

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth.

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips.

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need.

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand.

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.”

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing.

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh.

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking.

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts.

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you.

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i get ^^

#dick Grayson #dick Grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson smut #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing smut #x reader #x you #batfam x reader #👽 anon #alien anon #froggi after dark #froggi requests

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pomefioredove · 5 months ago

Note

if you're still taking requests for the event could i request floyd with "Maybe we should just kiss to break the tension" ? ty !

hehe ofc ofc!

summary: "maybe we should just kiss to break the tension" type of post: fic characters: floyd additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, pre book 3, kissing, yuu is very much canon yuu here lol a part of this event

Riddle's noble efforts to warn you about Floyd Leech had fallen on deaf ears.

"And stay out of trouble!" were his exact words, if you remembered correctly.

You'd almost scoffed.

You had already been at NRC for months; you'd fought monsters, solved mysteries, and come out of all of it in one piece.

You could handle a history of magic project.

Sure, this is your first mixed-year assignment; and yes, the project itself makes up a great portion of your semester grade...

...but if anyone had asked you, you'd say that a measly school presentation is nothing compared to what you've already been through.

"Remember not to play along with his antics; it only encourages him,"

Riddle had wasted no time lecturing you about your mysterious project partner the second his name left your lips.

You'd come to him to ask if he knew the guy, not his entire life story.

"Stay focused... and stay out of trouble!"

Trouble. Ha. Every second at NRC since you'd arrived had been trouble.

You walk into the library; like usual, it's mostly empty.

Floyd Leech, Floyd Leech... now, where would...?

"Hey, you!"

You turn on your heels to face the source of the shout; leaning against a bookshelf behind you is the tallest boy you've ever seen.

He even gives off the vague impression of towering over you, making you feel small regardless...

"Man, I almost didn't see 'ya, you're so tiny," he grins, baring a row of sharp teeth. "I'm gonna call you Shrimpy. Now, come onnn, I've been waiting forever!"

You're early. Before you can say as much, he grabs you by the forearm and drags you off to a table.

"Alright, Shrimpy," he says, taking a seat across from you. "What's on the docket for today?"

"Uhh..." you're still slightly dazed. He's got some energy, that's for sure.

Riddle's words flash through your mind.

"...Well, I was thinking we could find our material first, then outline..."

"Reading?" Floyd asks, slumping in his seat as if he'd just received terrible news.

You blink. "...Well, we're going to have to read a little,"

He groans, loudly. A few people in the library turn to stare before awkwardly shuffling away.

"...Nah, I'm not in the mood. Let me do 'somethin else,"

What had Riddle said yesterday? "He changes his mind at the drop of a hat. Arguing is no good,"

"...Okay," you say, tentatively reading his expression. "I'll start with the outline. Do you want to look for pictures instead?"

He's quiet, as if seriously considering the pros and cons of the offer, and then he shrugs.

You sigh. Riddle was just being overdramatic. This is fine!

Floyd becomes lost in his assigned job, leafing through an atlas in search of a map from the time period you're researching, leaving you to your reading.

It'd be an easier job with two people, but...

"You're real quiet, Shrimpy,"

You look up from your encyclopedia. He'd shoved the atlas aside, his eyes fixed on you instead.

You raise an eyebrow. "I'm reading...?"

"Aw. Don't tell me you're the serious type?" a loud, dramatic sigh follows. "I was hoping we could have some fun. I was really looking forward to meeting you and all..."

You have to remind yourself that you have a reputation here. Great...

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I'm a pretty boring person. Normal,"

Floyd's brow furrows. "Nah, I don't buy that. You wanna know what I think?"

You don't like this. The way he's looking at you, like he sees something you don't...

"...I think you only act normal 'cause you're afraid of being judged. You try way too hard to be a good student and stuff 'cause you wanna fit in here,"

Ouch. You blink, momentarily stunned to silence. He could tell all that just from watching you read?

"I'm just 'sayin," he gives you another sharp smile. "I wouldn't mind if you stopped acting all serious around me. You're way too tense."

"...Tense? I am not tense,"

Your denial only encourages him. A wide grin creeps across his face.

"Yeah, you know. You could feel the stress in this place from a mile away...

...Maybe we should just kiss to break the tension,"

Riddle had drilled you for hours; Floyd stealing your things, making you chase him, getting bored and leaving, a thousand possible situations that could come out of a simple study session...

...This was not one of them.

Floyd grins again, wider this time. "Ahah, never mind. You're way too boring and normal for something like that, right?"

You suddenly feel hot; he's putting you on the spot, and he knows it. He seems to be living for your agitation.

"Hey, that's not fair-"

"Fair schmair," he cuts in. "I gave you a dare, and you can't do it. Happens all the time to you, I bet. It's-"

Riddle had warned you, several times, quite clearly, not to play along.

But... in your defense...

Floyd giggles against your lips, the delighted little noise giving away a hint of surprise. His hands, cold and clammy but nice nonetheless, grab hold of your face, drawing you closer into the kiss. He's threatening to pull you across the table at this point...

...It's a good thing you chose a time when the library would be empty.

After a minute or two, he lets go, leaving you breathless with another smile.

"I knew you had it in 'ya," he says, reaching across the table to pull the encyclopedia back towards him.

"My turn to read, okay? I was getting bored of the pictures,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #queued

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feralhoekage · 5 months ago

Text

Welcome to the Genjutsu

I dare you to fall into my rabbit hole...

Hi Sweeties!! ☺️ I'm finally making a pinned post!!

First things first, I do NOT allow any minors on my page, if I find you, you will be blocked immediately, trust me.

Links: ASMR TikTok | CashApp | Ko-Fi | Instagram

You can call me Olivia, Liv, Livi 🤍 I go by many names

I will never post or send you nudes! Don't ask, it's tacky, & lame. && Please don't fill my submissions with dick pics I didn't ask for.

Since I have been asked a few times, of course you can blow my notifications up & reblog as much as you want 🥰 my pictures included! 🥰🩷

A little about me: I am 26, in my first year, getting my degree in botany. I'm pagan/wiccan, still very new though & something I keep close to myself because people can be cruel. I am a mom, I have three kids. I am also bisexual. Don't take my non-response to your messages as ignoring you. I'm very busy and cannot reply to everyone, every single day. Also if I repost something but don't reply to you, please don't be offended! I promise if I'm not responding, I am most likely in a shitty ass mood and I don't want to take that out on anyone. I am 5'5, and between 120 lbs. I have one tattoo, and one piercing. I'm a libra, October 21 is my birthday, and Halloween is my favorite day of the year. I am very shy, but can be very clingy... ugh.

I use tags HEAVILY on my page, click on the ones at the bottom of the post to navigate around a lot easier :) I promise you'll thank me

Enough of that, now! On to the kinks portion of the tour: (This list is still growing/I haven't figured all of mine out yet- so this list will change a bit most likely.)

Hard NO's!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I give one- maybe two depending on the person- warnings, then you will be blocked if you cross my boundaries.)

Anal (Traumatized from my experiences.)

Bathroom ... Things... - not for me.

diaper stuff - no hate, just not for me (:

Cheating/Poly - to each their own, but I don't like it.

Other things I enjoy since I am human and sex isn't the ONLY thing I think about(it's up there lol): Nordic mythology, Vikings(in every aspect), I want to be an author eventually(maybe), I smoke weed, I play video games. DC comics are my favorite but I do like marvel as well. Anime is my favorite genre. DnD! I absolutely love food. I can bake🥰 I do not look like I can eat but I can lol. I will 100% talk to you about tattoos all of the time 🥰. I am obviously in botany, so plants and trees are my favorite thing! My favorite colors are dark green, pink, and yellow 🩷 I'm very much into the dark and spooky side of everything, but I love the girly side of me and life as well.

Taken Anon Emojis: 🤠, 🦥, 🦀, 📌, 👑, 🐻, 🐺, ⚡,🐕, 🍀, FPFL , 🐯, 🦊, ☠️, ❤️‍🔥

I follow people back, but it's based off your profile, I read bios. Your age has to be in your bio for me to follow you back. But if you have taken/married/open relationship or anything like that in your bio, I will not follow you back :) and I will not flirt with you if you're in any type of relationship 👍🏽 if I also find out that you have been flirting with me and are in a relationship you will be blocked immediately. I will not be lied to, by omission or otherwise. Please be respectful 🤍

#my pics #my video #my gifs #liv's anon #ask me stuffs #livs ask box #livvs ask box #mine #personal #my spotify #my songs #my playlist #livs question #livi's good boys #livi the succubus #livs voice

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dinogoofymutated · 6 months ago

Note

THAT POST ABOUT CLEANING IN THE FLOWY DRESS? THINKIN ABOUT HANK? HNNNGGG PLEASE I BEG OF YOU

NSFW!Beast/AFAB!reader. - NSFW HCs! I was already on it when I got this ask heehee. These hcs were originally suppost to be part of another NSFW request I got for him but I was thinking about this too hard and comepletely forgot the actual theme of the req! So I decided to save it for later and just post it under your ask lol Anyway I need him my god. I was writing this while picturing watxm Hank but I'm pretty sure it works for any version. TWS: MDNI!!! smut under the cut. PNV smut. Eating out/head. Cum descriptions. Reader written with Fem in mind and also wearing a dress is mentioned, but overall no pronouns used. Creampie. Getting caught after the fact but not during the deed.

Okay, We all know that Logan has incredible stamina, and there's quite a few mutants that you would just expect that from anyway, but I'm 100% sure the one person that a good bit of people would NEVER expect to have insane stamina in bed is Hank. Like yeah he's nerdy, but dude straight up went to college on a SPORTS scholarship on top of his academic ones.

There is no fucking way this man has anything other than the most insane stamina. Dude is the perfect package of nerdy genius and athletic perfection. Can you imagine how long he could go on for in bed?? While you're sweaty and absolutely exhausted he's having the time of his life. Sure he's sweaty to but he's still. fucking. going?? It's like you'd been having sex for three minutes instead of four hours. He obviously gives you breaks and takes care of you, keeping you hydrated and such- but every time he begs you for "just one more". He's so gentle when he's gathering up your limp body and he's kissing your temples and forehead and massaging your tender spots, but he's a scientist at heart. He wants to know how far the two of you can really go, and he wants to know BAD.

I saw in a post somewhere on tumblr that he mentions that the one thing he doesn't have control of is his libido or something like that? It was from a comic snapshot so obviously this isn't even a hc it's fully cannon I don't make the rules.

THE FUCKING PHEROMONE THING!! For those of you who don't know, Hank was confirmed to have some minor Pheromone manipulation abilities. Like oh my god?? I definitely think that he will use it in sweet ways where he just wants some cuddles without asking you for them, but I feel like when he's hot and heated he just subtly does it without even knowing. Like he's super pent up one way and for some reason every time you greet him or pass him by you just start having more and more inappropriate thoughts about him. He'd feel so guilty if he catches himself doing it but at the end of the day, you don't really mind. Don't think too hard you beautiful big guy, can we just fuck already??

He will absolutely use his strength to hold you in any position possible. As long as you're both comfortable with it no position or hold is off the table for him. I don't think he'd be into BDSM or anything that has to do with hurting you, but I do think he's the type to read through the kamasutra and want to try all the positions to find the one you both enjoy the most.

He will fuck in the lab. He might do a whole "Oh my! Not in here, dear ;)" But most of the time he's instigating it! Sure he makes sure to lock the doors and everything but he's not shy when he has you splayed across his work tables, bent over you as he gently kisses and brushes his fangs over your skin. He likes how flustered it makes you.

He also cums A LOT. Like a lot a lot. He's most certainly got the heaviest balls you've ever seen, and they're not just for show. Every time he cums inside he causes you to practically overflow, and he's usually still cumming when he finally pulls out of you as well. He's a little embarrassed about it, and will clean you up very well because of that. He doesn't want you to deal with the sticky feeling of it drying on your skin, especially not if you have sensitive skin/texture issues. He is defiantly down to eat his one cum out of you though ;)

also, I think that he has a thing for long flowy dresses. I know there's a ton of dudes who say they like them bc of "easy access", and I know for a fact that Hank would find that sort of mindset disgusting. He just loves how beautiful and feminine you look in them, and also just happens to really enjoy the feeling of the fabric against his arms as he hitches up your skirt, his hands trailing up your thighs. As depraved as it might be, he also likes giving you head underneath your long skirts. He'd be apologising for being so ravenous and thanking you for letting him have you in such in intimate manner, all while giving you the most earth-shattering head. He's just so sweet about everything in the bedroom I swear.

You swear you didn’t fully expect to be in this exact situation when you were getting dressed this morning. Sure, you knew exactly how much Hank loved to see you in sundresses and were definitely going for a certain reaction out of him, but you never would have expected to be pinned against the wall of his lab, his large hands cupping your ass and thighs as he holds you suspended whilst using the wall as leverage. His thick cock is pumping in and out of you at a quick, needy pace. He goes back and forth from biting his lips and letting his moans and groans ring out and echo in the cluttered space. You’d never done this position before, although you certainly knew that Hank had more than enough strength to pull it off. Still, you were sure that the image of him fucking you, hands beneath your long skirt as it bunches at your hips and drapes down below you, was certainly a sight to behold.

“Ah- Please, let me know if this is uncomfortable in any way- nhg… I’m sure your anatomy is taking me quite… deeply, in this position.” Hank grunts, his thrusts deep and steadily paced in a manner in which he knows you like best. You smile at him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as your hands clench and unclench on his shoulders every time his thrusts catch you Just right.

“Is that what you’re calling it now? “Studying” my anatomy?” You muse. You wonder if he had noticed you catching on to the glances and stares he does when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You purposely poke your chest out as you mention it, and Hank huffs in amusement before he buries his face into your semi-exposed cleavage, licking and sucking as he shifts your weight onto one hand as the other takes hold of your cheek. He puckers your lips, nipping at the top of your breast before he pries himself away, sending you a smug smile as he leans in teasingly close.

“You know, I really think we could be using that quick tongue of yours for something a little more useful than backtalk.” Hank chuckles. He kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, still holding you effortlessly even with a single hand as he keeps up his thrusts. His free hand drifts down to your clit as your walls begin to flutter and clench around him, a sign that he knows means you’re approaching your peak and fast. His kisses match the intensity of his hips as he closes in on his own pleasure. You cum barely a second before he does, his cum warming your insides as he cums, and cums and cums. He overflows your cunt quickly, and it drips down your legs when he pulls out. Hank makes sure to help you keep your balance when he sets you down, your legs shaking from your orgasm but also a bit numb from the position he had you in. He kisses you gently as you recover from your high, doing so over and over again all across your skin. The gentle touches make you giggle a bit.

“Had a feeling that we would end up like this today. Maybe I should wear dresses like this more often.” You hum. Hank chuckles deeply before drawing you into another sensual kiss, his hands stroking up and down your now-clothed body in a loving way.

“I wouldn’t mind testing that theory.” He says when he separates from the kiss. You shake your head at him, laughing a bit more as you cup his face with love.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You say sweetly. Hank is smiling at you, his hands beginning to wander again right before the two of you hear a mortifying swish of the doors. Hank quickly tucks himself back inside his pants before the two of you instinctively turn to face the door where Logan is standing with a bit of a confused look on his face.

“Logan! We were just-”

“Hey, Logan! Nothing to see here!” Both of you are scrambling to fix the situation, utterly and spectacularly failing as Logan takes one sniff of the air and then smirks.

“I’m all for a bit of risk, but at least lock the door, lovebirds.” Logan gives the two of you a sardonic wave before marching straight back out the door. Leaving both you and Hank more than a little mortified. As embarrassing as it was, you can’t help but begin to laugh, Hank joining you as you shake off the adrenaline of technically being caught red-handed.

“Let’s go wash off before we have any other unexpected visitors,” Hank suggests. You agree wholeheartedly, your laughter picking up once again as he lifts you off the ground in a bridal hold to head to the showers.

#I do have to say he was definitely about to lift reader back up and eat them out till the cows came home before Logan interrupted #x men comics #x men #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #x men 97 #beast #beast x men #x men beast x reader #x men beast #x men beast headcannons #x men beast smut #hank mccoy #x men hank mccoy #hank mccoy x reader #hank mccoy headcannons #hank mccoy smut #wolverine and the x men

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eskumii · 1 year ago

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yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere-bnha #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere hcs #incel shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader

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leesromanova · 2 months ago

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natasha romanoff HC's

sooo i've never written anything like this before but i literally have a doc full of little HCs i have for nat, stuff like how she treats her partner and little quirks she has and wanted to publish them here let me know if i should do a pt. 2 or if i should do any one-shots with these little HCs :)

tags: natasha x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, some alluding to smut, lol just some thoughts i've got, mentions of red room and some things i imagine she's gone through, I JUST LOVER HER SM I WANT HER TO FEEL SAFE AND LOVED AND PROTECTED AGHHH

also i didn’t have time to revise to ignore mistakes lol

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physical touch:

she was so used to being "independent" she would often ignore her urges to feel close to someone. she was very hesitant with physical touch, it was hard for her to get used to having someone with her especially when it came to dating. when it came to you, she would shy away from hugs or even holding hands, not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't know how you would feel holding someone like her in your embrace. i picture her being all stoic and cold on the outside but truly, deeply, wholeheartedly craving to feel love and connection with someone. once you noticed her hesitation you talked to her, letting her know that no matter what she thought of herself, none of it was true and that she deserved to feel loved and cherished, just like everyone else. that was the first time nat realized just how much she loved being held and holding someone.

it was morning and although it was early, it was all too late for natasha's routine. she didn't care, she just couldn't let go of you. your face so calm, and your chest rising up into her arm that was wrapped around your torso. her eyes traced the lines of your features. "are you going to keep staring or should i stay still so you take a picture?" she blushed and released you, grabbing a pillow from behind her to smack you with it, making you release a laugh. "i can't even look at my girlfriend lovingly in the mornings without being teased anymore" she'd pout and turn away from you. "aw, i'm sorry, come'ere" you'd scoop your arm around her and bring her closer to your chest. "isn't it a little late for you?" you'd ask as she'd settle under your chin and wrapped her arm over your own, lacing your fingers together. "yes it is, but it's fine, i want to soak this in a little more" you smiled as she released a content sigh.

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being protective:

i think nat would definitely be the kind of girlfriend to just want to make you feel protected and safe and would go out of her way to do so, she'd probably do tiny things to show this like; always walking on the outside of the sidewalk, holding your hand or putting her hand on the small of your back in crowds, she loves handing you her jacket as soon as you shiver or if you even rub your arms to keep warm and if you'd argue saying how she must also be cold she'd respond something like "russian's don't get cold" with a raised brow, but would secretly be freezing just to be able to know that you're warm. you'd obviously know she was cold and would hold her and say "okay chilly russian, get over here".

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wearing her clothes:

going back to her sharing her jacket with you, she'd love seeing you in her clothes. it was something about seeing you, the person she loved wearing something that was hers, and later would wear the same clothes only to find them doused in your perfume, mingled with something that was so you. you two would often steal pieces of each other's closets, wearing them without realizing until the other asked "is that mine?" you had a thing for stealing nat's leather jackets when she was out on missions.

once, she came home to an empty apartment and washed herself up, she was sitting on your shared couch, watching some random james bond movie you'd rented for her. munching some of her favorite snacks, as she heard your keys in the door and saw you come in. your eyes widened once you took her in and dropped your keys on the counter. "natasha! when did you get home? i thought you were going to be gone for another week?" she looked at you dumbfounded, focusing on the leather piece on your body and how it made your eyes sparkle just the right way and accentuated every part of you that she liked, she was picturing what you'd look like in nothing but the jacket- "nat?" you closed the door behind you, reaching to take off the jacket and get closer to your girlfriend. "oh no, no, no, leave it on. i'd much rather be the one taking it off." you would laugh at the smirk she had on, rushing to meet her lips against your own in a fit of giggles. "you're ridiculous, natasha romanoff" you'd say as she pulled back to take you in once again, "oh, but you love me y/n".

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playing with your hair:

she would loveee playing with your hair, whether it was brushing her fingers through it or combing it after you'd gotten out of the shower, or simply braiding it when she had the chance, she loved the feeling of being able to replace memories from her past with moments like these with you. i assume the red room was strict with what they allowed the widow's to wear, and do as well as being extremely competitive between all the girls. she probably had to learn how to braid her own hair by watching how the other girls would do so, being afraid to be put against them in combat for trying to "make friends" with her competition. she was glad to have someone who, instead of pushing her to open up, would allow her to share what she could about her past while being a soothing balm for her trauma and making her excited for her future.

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nightmares:

her fears and memories only came at night when she closed her eyes and those tortures of her past would come flooding back. i'd assume that when she joined SHEILD mandatory therapy and counseling would be necessary. being diagnosed with PTSD among other things, she'd probably learned how to not let her past get to her and how to stable herself in the present, but all that faded away when it came to times when she couldn't escape her dreams. she sometimes didn't even remember what plagued her nights when she awoke, feeling like she'd been put through the ringer. her scars, fully healed and forgotten, would sting, and her head would be pounding, as trickles of sweat littered her body. she'd awake after trashing and fighting invisible demons in bed, struggling or crying out for help. but you'd always be there to calm her.

"nat- nat!" you shook her awake. her eyes shot open with a gasp, she saw red. "get away from me!" she screamed and got up from bed, falling to the ground and huddled herself away in the corner. her face between her knees, her whole body shaking in fear. you'd talked with Bruce about this, he said the best move would be to turn on the lights and approach slowly, letting her see her surroundings and view you, to take in the fact that you weren't a threat. you got up and turn on your lamps. "nat, natty baby, it's me- it's y/n" you would grab some water and would approach her with caution, watching as her eyes shot around the room as she fully wakes up from her nightmares. as soon as she realized where she was and who she was with, the tears would come faster. "i'm sorry- i-i'm so sorry for waking you, i had no idea- i couldn't-" you scurried up to her side "hey, hey, hey" she'd stop and turn to look at you, sniffling as she lowered her knees. "none of that baby, are you okay? i got some water, here drink" she'd take a sip and put the glass down, zoning out and dissociating from her surroundings. you grab her chin and turn her to face you, her eyes meeting your own. "where'd you go?" her lip would start trembling as tears welled in her eyes. "th-they were all around me, looking at me like a piece of meat- i couldn't even defend myself, i was powerless- they-" her eyes would look away and began to focus on something else, you could sense her getting lost in the memory again. "nat, nat hey, hey. it's okay- you're here now, you're with me, you're away from him- from them. you're safe" she'd snap out of it and would wrap her arms around you suddenly, clinging on to you like a vice. "let's get you into the shower, yeah? let's wash you up and drink some tea yeah?" she'd only nod into your neck, and you'd lift her, taking her to the bathroom to help wash away the painful remnants of a rough night.

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the end! i was planning to add more but i thought i should see how this does first and then make another addition, if you guys would like! please let me know and if you have any constructive criticism, feel free to message me! :)

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #red room #angst #fluffy fluff #i love natasha romanoff #she deserves the world #shes so cutsie #marvel #black widow x reader #natasha romonova #black widow x you

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walpu · 9 months ago

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A thought, Aventurine thinking that he's the dom in the relationship and then reader pulls out uno reverse, kabedoning him against a wall with their leg

"Get dommed lmfao" - [Y/n]

LMAO okay this is funny

I'm sorry this post is a but shorter than my other ones, I've been super busy for the past few days and didn't have much time to write 😭

Aventurine trying (and failing) to be a dom

characters - Aventurine

notes - gn!reader, sub!Aven, nsfw-y

I really can't picture Aven as a hard dom but I think that in some scenarios he would feel more comfortable if he considers himself to be the one in control.

Like if you two just started dating and maybe you didn't know each other for a long period of time before that.

Or if you had some sort of rivalry before you became a couple.

He'll try to show you that you're his, constantly reminding you this by... clinging to you and whining if he doesn't get enough of your attention.

And, well, by throwing some flirty and smug remarks here in there. In a way, it's another way to keep his mask on.

He would, however, be able to be a proper dom in the bed. Ordering you around, teasing your body, enjoying your ruined look, knowing that you're his his his. Even if sometimes he wants to be the one ruined by you.

He reeeeeally doesn't want to admit to himself how much he actually wants it.

However. However. The key prase here is "would be able to be a proper dom"

Is it possible? Yeah. Would this ever happen? No lol.

The moment he tries to pull something like this he finds himself pressed to a wall with you blocking his way with your leg.

"Don't tell me you thought you were in charge, pretty boy" you say with a chuckle and he goes weak in his knees.

Tries to say something cheeky in return but he was never good at hiding something from you. You can literally see him being a mess.

It would probably be easier fir him if you would use your hand to block his way. He'd tease you and call you bossy, pulling you for a kiss. But with your leg??? It catches him off guard so much that, to his own embarrassment, he can't even find a comeback.

And the way he looks???

Slightly flushed cheeks, irregular breath, him suddenly clinging to you without even realizing it. Absolutely beautiful.

It's still not easy for him to be in a vulnerable position like that but he just can't help, the temptation of feeling yours yours yours is just too overwhelming.

Would act ten times more bratty after that just to push your buttons and make you put him on his place again.

#aventurine #Hsr #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #reader insert #walp's writing #maybe I'll make a second part later I really feel like I could've give more justice to this request once again im sorry

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sebscore · 1 year ago

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Hiii!!! I’m hoping that you can write a request for me! Gzd and other drivers during a red flag. She’d be like drinking some juice, inspecting cars with seb, trying to get the audience to do a wave with Daniel. Sitting in a corner and enjoying ice cream with Kimi, you get the gist!

You writing is always so comforting and fun to read! {if you aren’t down to write this request then please ignore this one! No hard feelings haha}

SLOW DOWN, RED FLAG

pairing: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: sleeping? lol.

author's note: I FINALLY GOT TO THIS ONE!!! also sprinkled some webber + button content in there cause why not x

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''The race still hasn't restarted so let's see what our drivers are up to.'' Martin's voice spoke over the commentary, informing the viewers of the current situation.

The screen cut to Mick and Sebastian playing football in one of the empty hallways, keeping themselves energised for the race. ''Young Schumacher and Vettel playing some ball, trying to maintain their energy and not slump.''

''And here we have Charles Leclerc, the Monégasque writing some things down in his journal- a habit he picked up from his former teammate, Sebastian Vettel.'' Ted observed, describing how the young man scribbled some things down in the Ferrari garage.

''Let's see what Y/N Y/L is up to. I'm sure the young woman is doing her best to keep herself high- is she sleeping?'' Martin interrupted himself, watching the screen with an open mouth as it cut to the driver laying on the floor in her garage while her team worked around her sleeping form.

''Well, all the drivers have different ways of keeping their energy up.'' Ted chuckled, finding amusement in the woman's antics once again.

Both men took a closer look at the screen as the camera kept lingering on her garage and what was happening inside of it. ''Is… is she sleeping- oh my goodness, her blanket has Kimi Raikkonen's face on it.''

As the screen zoomed out, the viewers could see the driver having a blanket draped over her- one that had a picture of a sleeping Kimi on it.

''She keeps surprising me that one.'' Mark Webber joined in, laughing at the image of the young woman. ''I love the fact that her team just ignores it and works around her.'' He noted.

''Yeah, this is probably not the first time this has happened.'' Martin said, coming to that conclusion because of the way the mechanics and others don't seem bothered by it.

''This is a message for the crew that will be interviewing Miss Y/L later; Please ask her about this!'' Ted pleaded over the commentary, asking his colleagues that will be conducting the interviews to question the driver about her 'red flag habit'.

''Now, Y/N- we were specifically told to ask you this by Ted Kravitz himself.'' Jenson started off, making her hesitantly nod her head.

''Why were you sleeping during the red flag?''

''Oh,'' she laughed in relief, having expected a more controversial question that would have her press officer shit themselves, ''I was bored so I slept.''

''Aren't you supposed to keep yourself pumped for the race?'' Nathalie asked, a frown on her face.

Y/N nodded. ''Yes and that's my way of doing that.'' She grinned. ''Please don't judge me.'' She quickly added upon seeing the confused expression everyone was wearing.

''We're not! Don't worry, dear.'' Nathalie assured her, momentarily caressing her arm.

''Is it something you do often, because your team seemed to be very nonchalant about it- especially your mechanics, since they were working on your car.'' Jenson asked, genuinely curious about the matter.

The young driver pouted her lips in thought. ''Uh, I don't want to say it's a regular thing that I do, but I'm also not gonna say that it hasn't happened before.''

''Alright, and the Kimi blanket?''

''I got that for my birthday a few years ago, it's very cute, isn't it?'' She smiled from ear-to-ear, proud of her blanket of the World Champion.

The reporters nodded, endeared by her authentic excitement. ''Has he seen it?''

''He has! I showed him a picture of it when I first got it and he smiled so I think he was a big fan of it.'' She answered, with the same smile on her face.

''He didn't say anything?''

''Kimi asked where I got it from, but I didn't know the answer so that was the end of our conversation.'' She chuckled.

Jenson laughed at her response. ''That's more than I ever got out of him.''

another author’s note lol: I have decided to get rid of my taglist since it was becoming unorganized and I can only tag an x-amount of people per post + I’m not a fan of reblogging my own work.

#f1 fics #f1 fic #f1 x reader #jenson button x oc #jenson button x reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 oc #female f1 driver #f1 x female driver

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doukeshi-kun · 2 months ago

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𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙧!𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙪𝙥

notes ✥ i actually was planning to make it biker!nikolai

contents ✥ no warning lol

Your class ends a little later today. You have no other schedule for the rest of the day, which is fortunate since you can get back home. Except, you have to commute your way by yourself.

Taxi or train—the choices have been lingering in your mind as you walk through the college compound. Taxi is certainly the easier option but it is pretty expensive, especially at this hour. You do not doubt that the train will be quite crowded either.

As you walk, you notice that some male students are gathering around something right in front of the gate. You even see some of your friends taking pictures of something. Curious, you approach them, standing behind just a few feet to avoid the crowd.

Just a car. They are surrounding a dark red sports car. It is shiny and sleek. The way the car looks is also unique than any other normal-looking car around. The boys are just excited seeing such a car and they are taking pictures with the car as if they own it.

You wonder if the owner is around.

“Hey, pretty.”

Someone pokes your shoulder, surprising you. You turn around, eyes wide as you see the man you met last week at the street-racing party. You remember him—how could you not? He dragged you to be in the car while he was racing and although he won, the speed and the turns were making you so dizzy and disoriented that you left him as soon as you got out of the car to find the toilet.

“Nikolai!” You chime his name. Nikolai grins at you sweetly. His toothy grin sparks his cuteness. He is wearing a black leather jacket over a dark red button-up shirt and black jeans. He has a silver chain around his neck. His hair is braided long, resting on his shoulder.

“Hello, pretty!” He returns your enthusiasm. “Goodness, it was hard to find you, you know? You owe me something, don’t you remember?” He says as he whips out his phone. Your face heats slightly.

“You still… want my number?” He nods eagerly at your question.

“I won the race, no? And you disappeared as soon as we parked! I promise you, pretty, I was trying to go to you but my friends were crowding me too much that I lost you.” He explains. Nikolai then takes your hand and places his phone on it. “Please, please? Can I have your number?” He pleas with a cute pout, contrasting the rough look on him.

“U-Uh… y-yeah, yeah..!” You are quite flustered being flirted on so boldly like this. But you do enjoy Nikolai’s presence and the memory of being panicked in his car while he was racing is still fresh in your mind. You take the phone, giving him your number.

“How do you even find me?” You ask.

“Huh? Oh! I know your friend is kinda a regular visitor and I ask around for her to know where you study or work at… And… here I am!” He smiles, patting his own chest proudly.

“Why don't you just ask for my number from her?” You give back his phone, which he takes and types something for your name contact.

“Yeah, I wanna ask it from you directly. It feels more rewarding that way.” Nikolai says before his eyes scan you up and down. “You’re done with class? Going home, pretty?” You nod. His lips curl into a tiny smirk.

“Wanna have a ride?”

You blink at him a couple of times before your irises divert to the red car that is still surrounded by students. You pucker your lips towards it. “That’s your car? I remember you have a different one.”

Nikolai snickers. “I don’t only have one, pretty. This one is for special occasions.” He takes out a key from his pocket, presses it and the car’s lights turn on, surprising the people around it. Seeming to be aware that the owner is around, the students scramble away, laughing and giggling at the thought of being caught on.

“So? You comin’ with me?”

“Where to?”

“A date.” Nikolai takes your hand. “Yeah?”

You are a bit flustered by his boldness, staring at his hand that is engulfing yours. But your heart is tugged towards him—you step closer and nod. “I don’t have any schedule anyway.”

Nikolai grins and leads you to his car, which he gentlemanly opens the door for you. You can feel the curious looks from passersby as you sit comfortably in the car. It smells very nice—fragrant. The backseat is cleaner than the one you were in during that race. You wonder if he makes the effort to be presentable.

He gets in on the driver’s side. As he turns on the engine, you grab his arm. “Yes, pretty?” He asks.

“Don’t drive too fast like you’re racing.”

Nikolai laughs, shaking his head. “Promise not to, honey. But if you’re dizzy, just hold me!”

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

#道化師-jest❃ུ۪ #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai x reader #bsd fluff #nikolai imagines #nikolai fluff

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withleeknow · 5 months ago

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wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

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vidavalor · 1 year ago

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The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it

I rewatched 2.04/The Blitz, Part 2 last night and a moment stood out to me that made me think I have an idea of what might happen in the flashback we all seem to have collectively agreed is almost certainly in S3-- The Blitz, Part 3.

When Crowley & Aziraphale are in the magic shop and Glozier is there in the background, the camera jumps to a pretty significant reaction shot for Glozier when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he has a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop. I think everyone sees that bit as important-- it's a literal Chekhov's gun sitting out there for the future story, after all-- but I was thinking about why it matters that one of the Zombie Nazis overheard this when they're... ya know... zombies. Their methods of murder tend to be a little more direct, yeah? lol What do they need a gun for when they eat people to death? But then it hit me why it will matter that Glozier heard this... it's not about the Zombie Nazis, exactly. It's about Furfur.

When we leave Furfur in 1941, he's just been embarrassed in front of The Dark Council by Aziraphale, who has swapped out the picture of him and Crowley for a flyer for the Ladies of Camelot, right? They literally laugh in Furfur's face. Furfur's entire plot in 1941 is about how he's been stuck in processing for millennia and he's trying to get out of it-- about how he's jealous of Crowley and the few others who get to go to Earth. He's dealt slight after slight after slight during this night in 1941. He fails to get proof against Crowley, who doesn't even remember him. He gets shamed and embarrassed in front of the higher-ups and his peers. His fledging... whatever it is exactly lol... with Shax-- who is the closest thing he has to a friend-- is damaged as she's gone out on a limb for him and he hasn't delivered. Most terrible, he's sure he's never going to get out of his miserable eternity of grunt work. He's *very, very, very* unhappy and boxed into a corner, right? So what does Furfur want, now that he's stuck in Hell forever and all of it is laughing at him?

Revenge. He wants revenge.

In the short term, he also wants someone to scream at, so he goes back up to Earth and finds the Zombie Nazis, who are roaming around London eating people. They can't go very quickly so they haven't gotten far and aren't hard to find lol. Furfur knows it's not exactly their fault that he was tricked by the angel as, technically, they completed the tasks they were given, but he's furious and he needs to vent it, so he starts yelling that he's going to revoke their zombie-life-on-earth clauses. (Even *the Nazi zombies* get to be on Earth and Furfur does not? Yeah, he's not going to be able to handle that...)

The Zombie Nazis, understandably after seeing that video he showed them in Part 2, start freaking out because they don't want that whole fly fate for all of eternity and they don't know how to reach anyone beyond Furfur so they'll do anything to keep Furfur from taking out his humiliation on them. Upon hearing that this is all about how Aziraphale tricked Furfur and got him humiliated by Hell, the Zombie Nazis start desperately suggesting that it's not too late! They can help Furfur still get Crowley and Aziraphale! Even if Hell thinks Furfur is a joke and won't listen to him about the angel and demon being involved, they can still help Furfur get revenge!

They bring Furfur to outside the bookshop to find Crowley and Aziraphale because that's where the Zombie Nazis say they saw them together earlier & they know Aziraphale lives there. Furfur's in a rage because through a side window, he's observing Crowley and Aziraphale drinking wine together by candlelight in what is the "I know you'd come through for me" scene from Part 2-- and Aziraphale even has the photo Furfur took of them earlier in his hand. (Insert here more of the recurring gag about Harmony lip-reading as now he's also looking through the window and probably gets a line like "he is saying it again! 'banana fish go-RILL-ah...'").

So Furfur is in a fur-furious rage here and is ready to murder these two but... there's just one *slight* problem...

He's a demon.

He can't get into the bookshop.

Aziraphale would have to invite him in and he's certainly not going to after their meeting earlier. But! This is when Furfur and the Nazis realize that there is someone in their group who *can* get in the bookshop...

....our fave fascist, Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt.

As "Rose", Greta recruited Aziraphale-- entering his bookshop when she was a human, invited in by Aziraphale. She can still get into the bookshop. (It's also a parallel to Shax tricking Aziraphale into letting her into The Bentley in S2.)

Once Furfur and the Nazis realize this, the question then becomes: okay, so if Greta can get into the shop, how is she then going to kill Aziraphale and Crowley? (*Especially* Aziraphale, whom Furfur really, really, really loathes at this point lol.)

This is when we go back to the scene that triggered this meta, which is that this is when Glozier then volunteers the information he overheard in the magic shop-- that there's a Chekhov's gun in the bookshop.

The Derringer works as a weapon here to do that because, as Furfur himself pointed out during the magic show earlier, if Crowley had shot Aziraphale in the face, it wouldn't just be paperwork but it might not be possible for them to "put him back together again"-- indicating that there are some things that can happen to angels and demons that are irreversible and can effectively kill them, more or less-- and a gunshot to the head is one of them.

(I'm also realizing as I'm writing this that that Glozier's *ear* falling off in the magic shop is another nod to him having *heard* important information and so far, we've only seen half of what he heard pay off-- the time and location of Aziraphale's performance in the West End. We're still awaiting pay off of the gun bit.)

My bet is that Aziraphale's Derringer in a hollowed out book is something he actually *showed "Rose" like the cinnamon roll idiot that he is* lol... so once Glozier brings it up, Greta remembers and she knows what book it's in and exactly where it is in the shop.

So Furfur still cannot get in but Greta can get in... which means Greta is now the most powerful character here. If Furfur wants Aziraphale dead, Greta can make that happen... *if* they cut a deal. What kind of deal? Well, the only thing Greta is going to want that she thinks that Furfur could give her is to not be a zombie, right? To be alive again? Reverse the clause in the paperwork and give her her life back. Whether or not Furfur can actually do this (and I'm not sure if he can or not, really, but I'd wager probably not), Furfur tells Greta that he can and she and the other Nazis believe him.

The plan is that the four of them go to the bookshop, where Furfur activates a miracle blocker card for a few hours surrounding the shop in an effort to limit Crowley and Aziraphale's powers and give the Zombie Nazis the advantage. Once the miracle blocker is in place, Greta goes inside while Harmony and Glozier make noise outside, in an effort to separate Crowley and Aziraphale to make it easier to kill them by attempting to lure one of them outside. Greta is to kill the one that stays inside the bookshop while Harmony and Glozier are supposed to kill the one that goes outside. (This will not happen according to plan at all, whatsoever, but it does seem like the most likely plan these four characters could form where they all have a role in it.)

So because Greta is the only one who can get inside, she has go to into the bookshop and be the one who can kill, most likely in their mind, Aziraphale. She'll still be a staggering zombie when the extremely bright Furfur sends her in there to obtain and fire a gun at a pair of supernatural beings lol but she manages to sneak in the back door without Crowley and Aziraphale really hearing the breaking & entering... or whatever noises the other two are making outside... as Crowley and Aziraphale are a little busy gazing at one another.

It would actually be a really funny, very Good Omens-y gag IMHO, if Greta is colossally unsubtle in entering the other side of the shop from where Crowley & Aziraphale are and is banging into stuff while Harmony and Glozier keep coming up with more and more insane noises outside... but Crowley and Aziraphale are too busy making heart eyes at one another to care or do anything about it. A very "did you... hear that?"/"oh, must be the war, let's go back to gazing" type of attitude with a steadily increasing series of sounds that are harder and harder to dismiss but they are trying, ok? lol. (This would also parallel Aziraphale ignoring the demons outside for as long as he could during The Ball in S2, until the bookshop begins literally breaking around them.)

So while we watch scenes of Furfur and The Zombie Nazis Hatch A Plot, the relationship tension between Crowley & Aziraphale is building as much as the plot tension. They intercut Furfur & the Nazis scenes with Crowley & Aziraphale having quiet, romantic, candlelit glasses of wine after their very intense and illuminating evening together. Each time we go back to Crowley & Aziraphale... they seem to be getting increasingly cozier. They sit a little closer, they get a little looser around one another. Crowley's glasses might come off. We get the sense that this is all Going Somewhere and it's somewhere they've never let themselves go before but after the events of Blitz 1 & 2 tonight? It's becoming increasingly clear to them that they will. There's virtual certainty that if *nothing else happens* to these two tonight and they're just left alone for once, they're at least going to kiss and what we're watching is them slowly enjoying the path there and them enjoying silently knowing that they're going to.

At some point, we hop from the Nazis back over to Aziraphale asking Crowley if he'd like a little music... Aziraphale might even have something *modern* kicking around, he's excited to tell Crowley (like he might have been totally not at all fantasizing about this exact Crowley-dashing-in-his-suit-with-a-glass-of-wine-smoldering-in-the-bookshop scenario when he bought this record from Maggie's grandfather recently lol)... and he goes over to the gramophone to put it on and now we've got Crowley and Aziraphale with candlelight and wine and music and they're each just taking step after slow little step that slowly acknowledges the romance at play here. Aziraphale's record is probably Glenn Miller. We know he likes big band and The Bentley played him "Moonlight Serenade" in S2 and Glenn Miller also recorded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", so it's one record where "Moonlight" could play and then, eventually, so too could "Nightingale" without Aziraphale getting up and moving away from Crowley... and you better believe that when we get to "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" playing that Crowley and Aziraphale are a literal breath away from kissing.

It'd be completely perfect to them, right? Very romantic. They're there together, alone, they've survived the Nazis and Mrs. H and threats of Hell and have spent the night gazing at one another and now they're here and it's quiet and there's candlelight and it's the familiar, comforting bookshop that is home for both of them... the same place, ironically, that they will drink wine together and make eyes at one another *for decades* after this night-- without Aziraphale putting on The Song, of course-- and you know they will think about 1941 every. single. time. while never actually recreating it.

(It's also why, when they're both wasted in the bookshop in S1's "Eleven Years Ago", Crowley is rambling on about bananas and gorillas and bouillabaisse/fish stew-- ya know, "banana fish gorilla..."-- and they're both so drunk and thinking about how they're almost out of time... and so they're both thinking of 1941 and wind up making those hilarious kissy faces at one another because they both obviously still want to actually kiss some 80 years after the night they almost did. Crowley also calls Aziraphale "baby" in the middle of his ramble. He might have called Aziraphale that in 1941, when they weren't drunk and were on their way to kissing. He also might have just wanted to, so it turned up in "Eleven Years Later" and might come up again later on in the present of S3, whenever they inevitably get to finally have a decent, uninterrupted, not painful kiss.)

Back in 1941, as we flip between Furfur/The Nazis and our heroes, maybe Crowley's even gotten comfortable enough to lose the glasses (though he can leave them on if he still has the hat on when they go to kiss so that he can take the hat off like a gentleman to kiss Aziraphale *swoon* and actually that's how Aziraphale died everyone surprise twist he's been dead since 1941 an a ghost this whole time lol)... and there's romantic big band on the record player and there was magic in the air and angels were dining at the Ritz when a nightingale sang in Bahhhrrrrk. Leeeeee. Square... and they're *almost* there, right? They're basically kissing. There is no way for either of them to ever legitimately pretend that was not was going to happen (even if they will try in the future lol) as their lips were a millimeter away and both of them want it and just like this and it's been six thousand years of pining and so, of course, that is when...

...Greta zombie-crashes into the room with Aziraphale's once-hidden Derringer aimed at them.

(Aziraphale's probably furiously muttering "oh good Lord" under his breath with a very different tone than in 1793 lol. That is his attitude, at least, if not the dialogue.)

So then they have to try to protect one another right and it's mild chaos for a moment as like Crowley starts looking out the window at Furfur and the rest of the Zombie Nazi Trio (paralleling his demons-outside-the-bookshop paranoia in S2) and realizes they were the noise while Greta is all "pity you both must die" again with a little smirk and Aziraphale is trying to calm her down and reason with her while also subtly trying to get close enough to get the gun and she probably fires but she's a zombie so she misses lol and he's like glancing over for Crowley and Crowley seems to disappear for a moment while Aziraphale stalls Greta and just when we think where the hell did Crowley go?! Aziraphale is about to be shot in the face!...

...Greta is shot in the face instead.

By Crowley.

With The Bullet Catcher.

And the bullet that was in Aziraphale's teeth a couple of hours ago.

Crowley has not so much has blown the fluff off a dandelion since he arrived on Earth six thousand years ago but you interrupt his first kiss with the angel and you. are. dead, you Nazi bitch...

I don't have a theory as to what happens after this beyond that we already know that Furfur is in Requisitions in the present now so he's going places lol. Also worth mentioning that Crowley or Aziraphale (I'd lean towards Crowley) could get shot by Greta's wild aim when they are trying to protect one another but it would be more of a graze that one could write a hundred h/c fics over than anything worth actually worrying about lol. It could be something like Crowley gets nicked but goes down as dramatically as he does in the paintball scene in S1 and Aziraphale is horrified but also fighting for his own life so he winds up focused on Greta and neither of them see Crowley slip away to come back with The Bullet Catcher... something like that. I'm just pretty sure that the fact that there are really *two* Chekhov's guns in the bookshop and that Greta is the only 1941 antagonist who can get inside it maths out to Crowley-- shooting her with The Bullet Catcher.

I'm not sure what happens to Harmony and Glozier. Aziraphale says in S1 that he's never killed anything so he can't kill anyone here and while I'm fine with Crowley mowing down Nazis with every Chekhov's gun left in the plot lol, I don't know that that's what happened or if, honestly, the two of them and Furfur just see Greta die through the window and run off. Maybe Aziraphale miracles the Nazis to Siberia. Who knows. But the main gist of it, I think, is that Crowley kills Greta when the Zombie Nazis and Furfur try to exact revenge on Crowley & Aziraphale and, in doing so, interrupt what would have been their first kiss and it's while "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is on in the background so that every time the song comes up in the future, it's a reference to this near-kiss in 1941, adding layers to scenes from Soho 1967 to the end of S1 to the end of S2, etc...

Kind of makes Crowley desperately kissing Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop while a vengeful Heaven, this time, is trying to separate them, even more aldkjlkfjlewje, yeah?

I'd also like to just throw in here that it's actually possible that all of this is the same but they *did* kiss... that they were kissing when Greta burst in. Part of me really wants that to be the case. That maybe they did get to have this kiss, if only because even if only a tenth of what I've said above is anywhere close to right, it's still pretty romantic and it would be nice if they got to have that, especially then, even if it was ultimately interrupted. It's Soho 1967, though, that convinced me that they came *very* close but ultimately didn't (and honestly, the only way they don't in 1941 if they get that close is if they're interrupted and an armed Zombie Nazi crashing through the bookshop feels about right lol.) It's this bit from Aziraphale to me that says they almost kissed but didn't:

The picnic was likely Crowley's 1827 date in Edinburgh. The Gabriel statue was there for amusement but you know Crowley had a picnic set up nearby. (It's not that weird-- people used to picnic in graveyards in the 1800s & the only time Crowley & Aziraphale would be able to together would be under the cover of darkness.) Then, they ran into Elspeth and the night took a turn. (Elspeth was also digging up bodies from graves, which is a parallel to zombies, hooking 1827 to 1941.) Dining at the Ritz-- literally going to The Ritz and eating together, which they do twice in S1-- is something Aziraphale would literally like to go do as a date as but it's also code in the 1967 scene for "perhaps, one day, we could finish 1941." He's telling Crowley in 1967 that he would still very much like to kiss him one day.

The near-kiss in 1941 would then also be what gives Aziraphale the motivation to eventually give Crowley the holy water in 1967. Back in 1863, Aziraphale didn't totally see that Crowley wanted holy water to protect them. By 1941, when they're staring at the corpse of a once-Zombie Nazi on the floor of the bookshop that Crowley just killed with the gun that's in his hands, it's a different sort of proof. 1941 becomes the era of 'here is proof that Crowley will literally kill to protect Aziraphale' and maybe it freaks Aziraphale out a little (as well as also turning him on a lot lol). Maybe that's why they spend the next years after that until the '60s together but not really together. Maybe that's why they don't have another chance at the kiss after 1941-- why they don't just try again-- because Aziraphale slows down a bit after it, afraid that Crowley could get hurt and that this is too dangerous, but he also understands now that Crowley is in love with him and when he hears in 1967 that Crowley is going after Holy Water, Aziraphale just gives him some, as a way of saying that he knows they're in love but this is impossible and they need to not pursue this in a way that will get them killed because he can't lose him.

A near-kiss in 1941 adds layers to 1967 Soho by adding an additional meaning of 'physical intimacy' to "dining at the Ritz". It adds even more weight to the end of S2 and the kiss and the "no nightingales" through to the Tori Amos angsty cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in The Bentley. There are other scenes (the end of S1 and others) that it touches as well, if indirectly, but maybe my favorite is this scene, which has already been given extra layers of meaning since The Blitz, Part 2 and The Bullet Catcher plot but lol now add in the idea that the rest of the story is that Crowley and Aziraphale were going to kiss and they were interrupted in the moment, shot at with at least one of them probably getting nicked, and then Crowley killed someone with The Bullet Catcher and tell me it doesn't make this already amazing sequence even more amazing:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens theory #good omens 1941 #good omens meta #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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