#--last second so you catch the corner of his mouth instead.

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

3: The Search

Not many people recall their childhoods (for the most part), let alone what happens in it, nor would anyone expect a child to so easily remember things from their lives as they are in the process of living it...but, Timothy Jackson Drake isn't just any person or child. That's what his mother says at least, or...that was something she said to him in the days that her and father paid him any mind. Nowadays Tim finds it difficult to get their attention if he isn't being useful to them in some way, and even then...

Anyway! Tim just wishes he knew what exactly he did wrong and where he messed their relationship up.

He wants to go back to the days where his mom held him in her arms and cooed to him about how precious he is to her. He desires to receive fond looks from his dad in the way he used to when he was three and running around their home.

Now.

Now Tim is stuck on his own and spiraling on what to do.

Things the neglect started to happen slowly: his mom or dad sending him off whenever he tried to get their attention while working, their personal time together slowly being replaced by toys and trinkets that he was excited to get at the time because they were a symbol of his parents love for him, his parents hiring more babysitters for him instead of finding time to just simply...be with him. Which is why Tim has started to chase off every and any caretaker that comes to his parents million dollar home. Every expensive toy and gadget spent on him is now thrown violently against the walls or floors in a desperate plea for attention, it's all he wants, it's all he's asking for...and that's not much, is it? 

"Timothy, please just-"

The nanny grunts in pain as she's hit harshly in the nose by a six year old Tim, the boy disregarding any guilt or shame he has for taking his anger out on the caregivers, most of them are good people...he just needs to use them to get his parents attention again. The woman steps back in shock, raising a hand to feel her nose and wincing at the blood she feels dripping from it, that's it! She can't take this anymore; taking care of such an unruly pup. She's tried her best for a couple months now to be patient with him, the boy obviously has issues with his parents, but she can't put her health on the line anymore.

Tim screeches loudly while watching the beta leave, calming down enough to listen in on his parents as they realize another babysitter is being chased off. "Dana, where are you going? We need you to watch him for the week, we have a business trip, remember?" The pup clenches his small hands into his shirt as he pokes his head around the corner with a sniffle, blue eyes watching as his dad attempts to chase the beta down, one hundred dollar bills clasped within his hand as he waves them in Dana's face. "We'll raise your pay! It's not an issue for us, you know-"

Dana keeps her hand pressed to her nose, her eyes narrowing accusingly at Jack and Janet Drake as she turns to stare at them.

"I know you can't keep an eye on your own kid for two fucking seconds! Your kid has problems, okay? And I've tried to be patient, but I can't anymore! Just spend some time with him, that's all he wants." Dana hisses at her ex-employers while tugging on her jacket angrily, the glare softening up a bit as she catches a peek of Tim curiously looking over the corner towards his parents, "Goodbye Tim."

Janet reaches for the woman in a last ditch attempt to keep her in place, her mouth opening wide in shock as the beta slams the door in her face loudly. "Jack, what are we supposed to do!? We have a business meeting to go to! We can't watch after our mutt." Tim perks up as he's gestured at, wiping the tears from his eyes as he steps out from the corner and skips towards his parents almost giddily, tugging at his dad's suit pants. "Daddy-"

"I'm sure we can find someone last minute? Or he can stay home by himself...he seems like a capable young man."

Tim pouts as his dad speaks over him, but the fact his mom and dad are even talking about him is...everything and more to him. The boy stands a little taller as his mom looks at him, it's not the looks he remembers receiving from her, but at least it's something. "Capable? He...looks like he's a bit chubby, doesn't he? Have our nanny's been over feeding him? I don't think I remember him ever being this fat, they must have let him get into the snacks."

Janet pinches at her son's face experimentally, her eyebrows furrowing in worry. "Will him being over fed have an effect on his presentation?"

Jack Drake rolls his eyes at his wife's worrying, looking at his watch hurriedly. "If he's an omega, shouldn't we want him to be plump? Alphas enjoy breeding one's with meat on their bones...I think." Janet curls her lips in disgust, "Don't even say that about Timothy! We don't want him to be an omega, they are weak and useless, I've seen it with my own mother how good-for-nothing omegas are. He'll be an alpha." 

Tim has no idea what his parents are talking about, but the way his mom tugs him protectively to her side causes him to trill happily.

"But if he were an omega, imagine how useful he could be to us and our business-" Jack pauses to give his wife time to process what he said, smiling victoriously at her curious look-"If he looks good enough and smells pleasing enough, he could help to sway any potential business partners into making deals with us. Imagine the cards we hold by letting them think they'll get a hold of our son." Janet looks away in thought before glancing down at Tim, "What good would that be to us? The one business partner we want to work with us not only is an omega himself, but takes his job seriously...now that he has a pup of his own at least. It's not like he'd be willing to sleep around anymore, and we don't even know if he's ever slept around with other omegas anyway."

Tim smiles up at his mom and pushes into the hand in his hair almost desperately, purring softly at the attention.

"It could all be lies, Janet. Bruce Wayne is easy, gives it up for just about anyone from what I've heard, I bet when Tim reaches a certain age, he'll at least think about it. And with Bruce's kind of influence and sway on people, do you not think he covers up his sex-capades." Jack looks out the window at the honking outside, checking his watch one last time with a sigh, "Our ride is here. It seems like we have to take Timothy with us this time...there's no time for a babysitter."

Janet frowns displeased, pushing her pup ahead of her with a groan. "It seems you'll be traveling with mother and father, Timothy."

————°————

Tim practically vibrates excitedly in his seat as he peers down his window at the earth below, things look so small from up here, but it's also very pretty. The pup chirps happily and turns towards his parents excitedly, ready to tell them how amazing flying is and how he's just happy they're paying attention to him again, but his shoulders slump pitifully when seeing his mom talking on the phone with someone, papers strewn about her table as she fuses with whoever is on the other line. His eyes look over hopefully towards his dad instead, only to cloud over with disappointment as the man clacks away on his computer. "Mommy-"

The beta shushes him harshly, narrowing her eyes disapprovingly at him for interrupting her phone call while making frantic gestures towards her husband, a motion that tells Tim to: 'go bother your father instead and leave me to my work.' Those are words that the boy is used to hearing on a daily basis, so, with a huff he turns toward his dad. "Daddy?"

The male beta doesn't respond, too engrossed in his work to hear his pup or pay attention to the boy hopping out of his chair and making his way slowly over to him. "Daddy?"

Tim blinks optimistically up at his dad, hoping that now because he's closer to the man, the other will finally notice his presence and at least glance his way. But, the older only continues to type away on his device, causing the boy to feel jealous over the keyboard and how it gets his father's touch, his stomach churning at the reminder that his mother's phone gets to hear her voice constantly, how she always seems to hold it in her hands as if it's her most treasured thing.

Tim sniffles and tries to hold back his tears, he remembers his mom telling him she dislikes children that act as babies and his dad reminding him that young men don't cry.

But...it's just so hard not to. All Tim wants is to be his dad's son again, desires to be his mom's little boy-he glares at the devices his parents are using enviously, is that the issue? He isn't being useful enough to his parents in the way that the devices are? Has he become too lazy and comfortable with his parents affection that he's started slacking off on his duties? He doesn't know what caused him to have this reaction-no, this outburst-but Tim snatches his father's computer from under his quick fingers, throwing it violently against the wall of the jet with an outraged cry, ignoring his father's surprised shout in favor of targeting his mother's phone next, his gaze fixed on the metal with hate as he charges towards her with a scream. 

Janet's eyes widen, her hands fumbling for the mute button before lifting it away from her child, trying to push the boy away while making sure she hasn't hung up.

"Gimme...the...phone!"

Tim crawls over his mom, tears dripping down his face as his distressed scent escapes him, too focused on his present task to bother covering up his feelings as his parents have instructed him to. He grunts as he's held back and even pushed slightly by the beta, her tone clipped, "Tim Drake! Cut it out, now! You better not make me hang up-" Janet gasps in shock as a small hand slaps her cheek, her and the pup freezing in place as if they both are trying to process what just happened.

After a few seconds of silence, Tim whines loudly while tugging his mom forward by her suit jacket and snatching the phone from her hands in her state of shock, tossing it behind him and pressing closely to her chest in apology for putting his hands on her.

Janet seems to snap out of it when her phone is taken away from her, still too stunned in the moment to bother doing anything about it and just watching as it smacks loudly against one of the other tables. Her pup's souring scent causes her nose to sting in displeasure from the stench, her lips curling in disgust. "Timothy Jackson Drake." The pup tenses at the woman's eerily calm voice, a small cry escaping him as her hands tighten painfully on the nape of his neck while tugging him away from the warmth and comfort of her breasts, the tears falling harder as his only source of affection and love is taken away from him.

"You are a bad pup. Very bad."

Janet's tone takes on a rough timbre, a sound that's only used on pups when they particularly misbehave and won't listen to their parents, usually used as a last resort to command the pup into doing whatever it is you are asking them to do or not do...usually for their benefit when the child doesn't listen to any regular scolding.

But Tim doesn't understand it.

He can see her being upset over being hit and wanting to correct him on it...but doesn't she see the reason why he did it? It wasn't meant to hurt her or anything, he just...wants his mom and dad. And the only time they seem to pay attention to him is if he lashes out this way, he thought this is how he was supposed to get time with them. "M-Mommy-" he gets cut off by his own whining at the painful sting to his neck glands, his mother's nails digging into the sensitive flesh meanly. "M-Mommy-" Janet mocks-"Don't whine! You know I don't like the whining and the sniffling, Timothy. You know you don't put your hands on others, especially your parents."

Does he know that?

It's not as if Janet and Jack are around to teach him those things. If anything, it was his nanny that always told him that.

Tim opens up his mouth, planning on defending and explaining himself to his mother as to why he felt the need to do what he did. It's not that he meant to interrupt their business, but that they only seem to look his way when he acts out and chases off a nanny or gets in-between their work, that any other way proves useless if it's not him being disruptive to the company. It seems though that he won't be able to plead his case, because he can't even get a word out his throat, noises seem to be getting harder to make now as he's held in place by his mother. 

Is he even breathing?

Janet shakes Tim out of his thoughts with a deep frown on her face, "You better hope that my phone isn't broken or else you are in even more trouble." She stands up abruptly, not concerned about her pup's body twitching in pain as he's dangling midair by his neck, his face growing pink as his airways are slowly cutoff. "You need to be put in time out. You can't continue to act like this, do you hear me? Time is money and money is time, yet you seem to not understand that yet, Timothy." 

Tim looks to his dad for help, a bone chilling coldness spreading from the inside out at seeing the man is over near his computer, brows furrowed in genuine concern as he looks over the device, his hands brushing the screen carefully as he makes sure it still works.

The pup slumps in defeat as the realization of his circumstance sets in, feeling numb as his mom leads him to one of the smaller bathrooms on their private jet and harshly dumps him on the floor, not bothering to apologize for treating her own child so meanly as she says...something else to him, he can't really hear her over the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of his desperate gasps for air. Tim flinches as the door is slammed harshly in his face and something heavy pushed in front of it to keep him trapped inside, his eyes carefully observing the restroom before landing on the sinks lower cabinet and feeling the urge to crawl inside of it. 

And crawl he does.

Tim whimpers quietly to himself as he pushes the items in the cabinet out to make space for himself, curling into a small ball as he hugs himself tightly, ignoring the lingering scent of his angry mother that clings to his clothes as he closes his eyes to rest.

————°————

Blue eyes open in panic, glazed over in confusion at the plush feeling underneath him. Tim sits up in bed confused, his nose twitching as he scents the unfamiliar room, hope poking at his mind with the thought that everything that happened was actually just a bad dream, but the slight sting to his neck stamps on that hope and tells it otherwise. "Daddy? Mommy?" His voice is soft and scratchy as he calls out for them, allowing some anxiety to creep into his tone in the hopes that maybe their minds have changed, that maybe they will rush to his bedside with an apology on their tongues and regret in their gazes as they scoop him into their arms and promise that things will change from here on out.

Tim gives up on calling them after a couple of minutes, hot tears pricking at his eyes as he realizes that they left him, for the meeting they've been going on about most likely, but it still doesn't make the acceptance any easier to come to terms with. The pup sniffles and crawls out of bed, looking down at his clothes and feeling a sharp stab of pain in his chest at seeing himself still in his daywear. I guess he wasn't important enough to change clothes? He looks down at his feet and feels an odd sense of contentment seeing that his shows are gone at least...at least they care enough to take them off for him, right?

His stomach growling loudly interrupts the spiraling thoughts, the six year old biting his lip as he scrubs at his wet eyes. 

Tim slowly steps closer to the door, indecisive on whether to find food himself or not, making his decision to leave the room as his stomach growls again. The child exits the room and looks left and right carefully, perking up at seeing a small group of people heading left towards the elevators and following them, ignoring their curious looks as he pushes his way on with them. "Where's the cafeteria?"

The adults have already ignored him in favor of talking their business or vacation plans with each other, the pup sighing sadly at how he can't even get other grown-ups to pay attention. 

A light tap to his shoulder startles Tim, the small boy turning around and looking up into the friendly eyes of a teenager, the alpha smiling kindly down at him. "You said you were looking for the cafeteria, right?" Tim nods shyly and shifts from foot to foot. "Funny thing is that I was just heading down there! I can take you there if you want? Though, uhhh-" the young alpha glances at the distracted adults inquisitively-"are one of these folks your parents?" Tim doesn't know how to feel at the larger hand carefully wrapping around his own, his small fingers instinctively clenching down at the feeling of warmth as he shakes his head. "No. My parents said that they would...meet me in the cafeteria, that's what they said." The look the teen gives him causes the pup to look away in fear that he'll find out his lie, luckily enough, the older boy ends up smiling instead and guiding him out the elevator with a soft tug to his hand.

"That's alright! Do you mind if you eat with me and my family for today? We can keep an eye on ya while waiting for your parents to come get you."

Tim knows that he should say no...there are a million things wrong with this plan, one of them being that this young alpha and his family will realize his parents are never coming to get him because they already left. But, the way the older looks excitedly-even hopefully-down at him, causes Tim to slowly nod in agreement. "O-Okay? Are you sure they won't mind me intruding? Breakfast is a special occasion, isn't it?"

The alpha raises a brow and chuckles, something in his eyes sparkling in amusement as he says: "Trust me. My mom won't mind you at all, and neither will my grandpa. It's actually been awhile since either of them has had the company of a pup, so I think it will make their day." The older grows silent before slapping his head animatedly, "How could I be so rude? I forgot to introduce myself-" he leads Tim to the back of the line and looks down at the boy openly once they are in place-"The name's Richard Grayson, but everyone who's my friend calls me Dick, nice to meet ya." Tim messes with his shirt nervously and nods politely, "Timothy Drake. But you can call me Tim for short."

Richard smiles brightly when the younger gives him a cute, lopsided smile, handing the boy a plate when they get closer to the food. "Drake? Do you mean you're the son of Jack and Janet Drake? That's pretty cool, Tim, I bet you guys have lots of fun together? They seem to take their work very seriously, so I can only imagine how they take family life. What do you want?"

Tim doesn't know what to focus on first, all the questions were asked extremely quickly and in quick succession, barely giving the pup time to think of a response. But it's fine...he doesn't even know how he would respond to them, he doesn't exactly have fun with his parents, and he knows that he can't just outright tell the older boy that his parents ignore him. "Uh...w-whatever they have up there is fine with me." And he means that too, it's been awhile since he's tasted anything really delicious, the only time he eats properly is if a nanny of his actually cooked-and to be honest-it was usually a hit or miss situation with the caretakers, especially since not all of them were properly looked into.

Sometimes Tim got caretakers that forgot about him just liked his parents do.

Richard hums thoughtfully before dumping a pile of bacon, eggs and fruit on the child's dish, the pup's protests being ignored with the loud exclamation of, "growing pups need to eat!" 

Tim pouts and allows the alpha to do as he pleases, looking over the cafeteria and perking up at seeing a coffee machine, his small hands tugging at Richard's sweatpants hurriedly. "I wanna drink some of that! It tastes good." At the pup's insistence, the teen looks to where the boy is pointing, scrunching his nose in displeasure at the drink he's pointing at. "Decaf coffee? You must not have tasted any real coffee before, you need to drink it caffeinated in order to enjoy it properly."

Tim tilts his head in confusion, frowning as the older waves his free hand frantically. "Not that you should be drinking coffee yet! I'm a mature almost adult, thank you, so please don't let my mom know that I was supportive of you drinking it."

His...mom?

"Your mommy? Where is your mommy?" The pup turns his head in search of the teens parent, grunting softly as he's finally handed his overfilled plate. 

"He's somewhere at one of those tables, or maybe not? He might have gotten a private area depending on it-people always trying to speak to him during resting hours, you know?" Richard dumps a healthy amount of food into his plate, snagging a small box of cheap breakfast cereal the hotel surprisingly has in his hand, salivating at the thought of the heavily processed food on his tongue. "Come on, little guy, right this way." A gentle hand sets itself on Tim's head as it guides him around the tables, the walk seeming not to stop until they reach a set of French doors, the alpha sticking his tongue out in concentration as he lifts his foot to the door handle and presses it down to open it.

Tim looks up at the older one more time, his eyes apprehensive and curious as to if him being here is actually okay, reassured as the teen just chuckles and nudges him forward with a small tap to his calf. 

The pup shuffles forward with his plate held in both hands, his nose twitching at the sweet-but not overly sweet-scent that fills the room. This isn't from any of the food, that much Tim knows, nothing in the cafeteria smelled this delicious, this...right, no, this is the smell of an omega. "Whoever is out there...please, go away and at least wait until I'm done eating to ask me questions or make business deals. I-" Tim freezes in place as the prettiest pair of blue eyes turn to look at him, the stern look immediately being replaced with a soft look of pleasant surprise. "Oh!? I'm sorry, pup. Are you okay? Are you lost?"

Tim opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say as he flounders for a proper response.

"He's not lost, B!" Richard chirrups excitedly, pushing Tim forward a little more as if he's a cat that caught a gift for its owner and is eager to present it. "I found him in the elevator! He was heading my way-which was to the cafeteria-and I decided he could eat with us since he said he's waiting for his parents."

The omega knows he should ask his son what 'finding him' means, and if the pup's parents even know that he's here with them, but the sight of this small boy holding a plate that looks too big and heavy for his hands causes him to soften. His eyes glistening fondly at the physical signs of the boy's nervousness as he shifts from foot to foot, his gaze being drawn to the socked feet as the small appendage pushes down his rising pant leg. "Pup, where are your shoes? You came down here without any shoes on? Did no one dress you up before bringing you to eat?"

The omega's voice is probing, but not void of any kindness, the man gesturing him forward with an outstretched palm as he finally takes notice of the mountain of food sitting on the boy's plate.

"Richard, why did you give him so much food? Poor thing can barely carry it."

Tim blinks in shock as the omega stands up and helps him carry his plate, pulling out the chair next to him and helping the small boy climb into it, a pleased noise escaping him as he looks at the contents of the plate. "You have fruit? You gave him fruit, Dickybird?"

The teen chuckles and sits next to Alfred, nodding his head and puffing out his chest in pride. "Yup! You always told me growing up that growing pups need food and lots of rest, and I knew if you didn't see any fruits or veggies on his plate that you'd be mad at me for not thinking of his health." Bruce gives a small smile at his son before turning his attention back onto the pup, "I'm glad you could join us for breakfast today, don't worry about not eating everything on your plate, okay? I'm Bruce Wayne, can I ask your name?"

Tim blinks in shock at the name, why does it sound so familiar? The pup continues to stare up at the omega, his little brows scrunching in thought before lifting in surprise, no wonder the name sounds so familiar, Bruce Wayne is the omega his parents were talking about back at home.

Tim shakes himself out of his thoughts, licking his lips nervously before stretching out his hand to shake. "Timothy Drake...but y-you can call me Tim." Maybe it's the neglect skewing his perception of Bruce? Maybe it's the affectionate look the omega is giving to him? Heck, maybe it's the soft and gentle hands carefully shaking his own that make Tim think that maybe he's not so bad. Whatever the reason is, the pup feels something warm nudging at his heart, slowly replacing that lonely feeling with something...familiar? Yes, familiar. The more he looks at those icy eyes sparkling with care and love for a pup that's not even his, it reminds Tim of the way his mommy used to stare at him once upon a time.

Bruce's humored-but gentle-voice wraps around Tim's ears like a warm hug, gently pushing through the insecurities and doubts that have built up within him with the confidence of a man who knows his power, who knows that he doesn't need to use much force to get his way but just needs to simply speak and others listen.

That's how Tim feels as those doubtful inner voices bow out to let Bruce through.

"Oh? And you're a little gentleman too?" Bruce tries not to look too amused at the stupefied look the pup gives him, he can tell that the boy is being serious. "And did you say Drake? You mean like Drake Industries? Your parents have been really persistent in trying to get me to work with them."

A sudden thought pops into Tim's mind; what if he introduces his parents to Bruce for them? So far the omega seems to like him...so what if he's more open to making a deal with his mom and dad? What if...what if him doing this for them makes them notice him again? Things will go back to the way they used to be: his mom cuddling with him in bed as she plays with his hair and tells him stories, his dad chasing him around the house and ruffling his hair fondly whenever he does something good, both his parents tucking him in goodnight and tickling him when he keeps trying to get out of bed and follow them.

Maybe if he proves to them that he's useful to the business, they'll realize that he's also good enough to be their son.

With a renewed determination, Tim chirps happily and finally releases Bruce's hand while leaning forward eagerly. "But my mommy and daddy are reeeeeally good people! They talk about you lots and all the things your companies could do together if you ever gave them a chance-" maybe that's not exactly true? He's heard his parents say some not so nice things about the omega before out of anger, but he doesn't need to know that-"They are just determined and ready to expand the growth of their business to help others!"

Bruce's eyes widen at Tim's sudden enthusiasm, his lips twitching up at the boy's determination. "I know that, Tim...but I am very careful on who exactly I conduct my business with. That and my secretary schedule's meetings based off the most important to the-" he pauses at the look of defeat on the boy's face, purring softly to comfort the pup-"Look, Tim, it isn't that your family or their business isn't important. That's not what I'm trying to convey to you, but, your mother and father's business-let alone-their names are fairly new to the world of business. I admit that they have done a lot of work recently to put their names out there, and I have been looking into the work they do." At Tim's disbelieving stare, Bruce smiles reassuringly and nods his head at the boy. "It's true, I have. I just haven't contacted them yet because I was still looking into them to make sure they are worth meeting with, but I have to say pup, you make a convincing argument on your parents behalf. You'll be a businessman in no time."

The genuine praise does something to Tim, the pup squeaking happily as he looks at the omega in awe, quickly turning back to his food when the older man reminds him it's getting cold.

.

.

.

.

He doesn't know how long he spent time with Bruce...but somewhere deep inside of the pup, he doesn't want it to end.

Despite all of his desires to gain his parents love and attention, there's a little voice somewhere in Tim's brain that anxiously whispers about them never noticing him again for the stunt he pulled on the jet, about how there's nothing that he can do to ever be enough for his mom and dad. It's a voice that the pup has been fighting against ever since he's noticed this weird shift in his dynamic with the adults, I mean, he's not stupid and he has eyes that work just fine.

It's just...

He doesn't want to believe that part of him that knows the reality of his situation, that knows exactly how things have changed and even how there's no returning to old times

It's a truth that would be too hard for anyone to handle--but a six year old? Yeah, that would be even harder for a child to grasp that their parents don't love as they used to before...that maybe their parents never actually loved them that way, that it was all an act for cameras and company; that maybe they did love him that way, but only once and never again.

"I have to get going, Tim. Are your parents coming?"

Tim breathes in sharply at the question, schooling his features as much as he can before replying: "Hm? Oh, yeah! U-Umm...I...lied."

Bruce shares a quick look with his dad and son before turning back to the pup, "You lied? How? Are you-" Richard cuts the omega off, leaning in towards Tim eagerly, his eyes glistening with an intense delight that the boy has never seen before despite his voice sounding calm. "Do you not have parents? Did you sneak in?"

A harsh nudge from Alfred seems to sober the young alpha back down from his excitement.

"I mean, that's not what I meant to make it sound like, I'm sorry. I hope your parents are still alive, having dead parents really sucks-I'll stop putting my foot in my mouth and shut up now." 

Tim tilts his head curiously and turns back to Bruce, "My parents are still alive-" did someone just sigh-"I just meant that they aren't waiting for me...because...because I left the room without them knowing. They said that they were really tired after the flight here and-and fell to sleep as soon as they got to the room." The look the omega gives Tim is similar to the one Richard gave him in the elevator, something about it makes the boy feel as though they can see right through him, that they know he's lying. But, Bruce just nods with a small smile on his face, the look just as disarming as his alpha son's. "Alright, we'll take you back to your room then. I don't want you alone."

Tim bites his lip and-in a moment of desperation-rushes out of his seat to hug onto the omega tightly, burying his face into the soft material of his pants while fisting the man's sweatshirt in his fists.

The pup stiffens up in surprise at the feeling of arms wrapping around him before he melts against the omega's legs, unconsciously letting his scent release, too caught up in the moment to be concerned on the intense scent of desperation, want and relief mixed into his milky aroma. Tim sinks further into the warmth, scenting Bruce's neck when the omega kneels down to his level and nuzzles at him carefully, the scent of the other is soothing in a way that his mom's scent used to be...maybe even still is,  but the too quick change in their relationship has made the pup recoil at the scent, the relief of the beta's smell being replaced with trepidation as it always turns sour whenever he's around.

But Bruce...

Bruce's scent is pleasantly soft and sweet with a hint of spice: vanilla, a hint of rose, cinnamon and cardamom. It makes Tim want to stay wrapped up in his arms forever, he is giving the pup everything that he's been looking for in his parents back to him with one embrace. "Shh...it's okay, Tim." Soft hands wipe at the pup's face tenderly, the boy confused as to when he even started to cry, but the soothing rumble of Bruce's omegan call eases Tim's mind and only causes him to press closer to enjoy the gentle back rubbing the other is giving him. 

Bruce gives a look to Alfred over the child's shoulder before returning to comforting the pup.

.

.

.

.

"Timothy, what-" Jack Drake bursts through the French doors, his annoyed scent turning to one of surprise as he sees that the phone call he received wasn't a joke...Bruce Wayne actually called him and Janet. "Mr. Wayne! Is everything alright?" The beta swallows nervously under the omega's stern look, slowly stepping forward until he's close enough to bend down and grab his pup, shushing the boy as he whines and squirms. "We weren't even aware that Timothy left the room."

Bruce purses his lips and nods, "I'm well aware. I understand jet lag is rough on the body, but please, try to keep an eye on your pup."

Before Jack can even ask what he means, Tim's voice croaks in his ear. "I told Mr. Bruce that you and mommy fell to sleep after we landed, you two were tired after the flight and didn't notice me leave." Jack raises his brow but gives a small, almost imperceptible, smirk at the cover-up, the pup must have not wanted them to be in trouble for leaving him unattended in the hotel room. "O-Of course, Mr. Wayne, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. Are you alright, pup? You aren't hurt, are you?" Tim pauses at the question, his little nose twitching in interest at the scent of concern his dad releases, a small feeling of hope rising within him as he slowly-cautiously-leans his head down to scent his dad, giggling softly when the man nuzzles him back. "D-Daddy!"

Jack smiles softly, his hands gently ruffling his pup's hair to comfort him while releasing his pleasantly mild scent.

"It's alright, son, I'm sorry for not paying more attention to you today, alright? Mr. Wayne...I apologize for any trouble-" Jack immediately closes his mouth at the omega lifting up his hand in a-stop-gesture, the beta's eyes widening at the business card the other slips out of his wallet and extends to him. 

"Your son has made a very convincing argument on you and Mrs. Drake's behalves today-" he smiles kindly at the pup-"He told me that you both work so hard to make the world a better place with your inventions and plans. You both always call my office at least twice a month to see if I've changed my mind, so I at least know you aren't quitters, expect a call from my secretary so she can book a date for us to talk. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Drake." Bruce nods politely at the beta and gestures for his family to follow him out, taking a second to look at Tim warmly with a small nod, "And it was a pleasure to talk to you, Tim. Goodbye."

Tim grips his dad's suit jacket at the sight of Bruce leaving, his inner pup calling out softly to the omega in goodbye, trying to ignore the sad feeling churning in his gut as the man disappears around the corner with his family.

Why is he even sad?

Isn't his dad's affection what he wished for?

Tim shakes his head and nuzzles his nose back into Jack's neck, humming contentedly as he isn't put down or pushed away, but hugged closer as his dad rushes out the room and towards the elevators, his foot tapping impatiently as he waits for the elevator to reach the main floor.

The next thing Tim knows is that he's back in the hotel room, the irritated scent of his mother causing him to bury his face further into his dad's neck. "Why are you babying him, Jack? Why were we even called-what? Why are you smiling at me like that?" The boy takes a chance to peak out from his hiding spot in his dad's neck, staring up at the pleased look his dad wears as he holds up Bruce Wayne's business card triumphantly. "I knew having a pup would come in handy! Look what Tim got for us!"

Janet narrows her eyes suspiciously at the card, growling softly at her husband's shaky hands and snatching the card from him so she can read it properly, her scent confused before bursting forth with excitement and shock. "Are you serious!? He-Bruce Wayne? He really ran into Bruce Wayne of all people?!"

Jack smiles wide; victoriously, lowering Tim down to the floor and shaking him off when the boy tries to cling to him. "I know right! I was right when saying that he'd take a liking to our pup, and can you believe that Timothy put in a good word for us? Bruce said that we should be expecting a call from his secretary sometime." Janet stares at the business card incredulously before chuckling and hugging her husband, catching Tim off guard as affection isn't something he really sees from his parents towards each other anymore, but...it feels good seeing his mom and dad jump up and down like two kids in a candy store, he is the cause of that.

Tim looks between his embracing parents in relief at seeing something familiar again, chirping excitedly as he squeezes between the two and grips onto their clothes, stamping down that small voice that tells him this moment won't last forever.

————°————

Tim doesn't know why he ever listened to that voice in his head? He doesn't know why he insisted on convincing himself that things between him and his parents would get better from there.

He was wrong.

He was so very wrong, that much he can admit. The doting and praise lasted the rest of that very day, but as soon as the next day hit, they went back to business-if anything, their obsession over meeting with Bruce Wayne became even worse after actually getting a phone number, everyday was spent looking at their phones twice as much and keeping their email open just in case Wayne Enterprises messaged them.

Now Tim is so much older and wiser. Even though he's only nine, he is sharp in a way he wasn't when he was six, or maybe it's that he's finally allowed himself to not be held back by his own obsession with his parents love?

The point is: he's finally allowed himself to grow beyond them.

Now he's focused on Batman, this enigmatic character that has risen above Gotham as its defender in the night, as the watchman in the shadows against the filth this city holds. 

Following Batman has been his favorite past time...that and following Bruce Wayne. He knows it's not...ideal to keep tabs on the omega so closely, but ever since that day at the hotel when the man wrapped him in his arms, it's been an experience on his mind everyday and every night since then. Tim has always desired to get close to the omega again...his parents definitely had enough meetings with the man for him to see him again, but every time he thought about it, he got scared of Bruce's opinion on him changing.

The unwanted thoughts always held him back: 'what if I'm not enough?' 'what if I'm not what he needs?' 'what if it was all an act? Your parents did it before, so why would he not with you?' But...Bruce has been his light at the end of the dark tunnel known as his life, the memory and phantom feelings of a warm hug being one of the only things to keep him from being crushed under the overwhelming weight of the loneliness clinging to his heart everyday, keeping him sane from the thoughts that poke and prod at his restless mind. 

Now Batman is another new obsession.

It's not everyday that you see a vigilante with a kid for a sidekick/partner. And the way that he's seen the man treat Robin makes Tim envious of the boy, why is it that a crime fighter gets a better caretaker in his life rather than Tim? Is he living his life in a way that is causing him to not be noticed or wanted by anyone?

Tim doesn't know what it is, but either way, he has been trying to get near Batman for awhile now.

Trying to get the man to notice him and take him in-he can be useful to him! If only he could just prove that to the Bat, surely the other would see what he's capable of and take him in without a doubt. I mean, the other hasn't had a problem doing that with two other pups, so why would it suddenly be an issue for him? Tim licks his lips anxiously, shifting from foot to foot in an old tell of how nervous he actually feels. The pup peeks over the corner, analyzing the rooftop he climbed onto in search of Batman and Robin, they should be arriving soon...he made sure he got the location right tonight, because tonight will be the night that he meets the supposed alpha, he won't settle for anything less any longer. 

From his years of careful research and learning Batman's patterns, he knows that this rooftop is a place he and Robin usually visit after every patrol-and unless there's another crime to rush to-there's no conceivable reason for the vigilante to skip coming here tonight.

.

.

.

.

Tim jumps awake at a, 'whoosh', sound coming from behind his hiding spot. The boy shaking himself awake and taking a deep breath before looking over to where he heard the noise, his lips lowering to a confused frown as he searches the rooftop for Batman.

"I don't think you should be up this high."

Tim squeaks in panic and turns around too quickly, tripping over his feet and falling onto his butt as he stares up at...Clark Kent? Blue eyes blink up in shock at the sight of the reporter in a Superman cosplay, looking the man up and down carefully, his eyes only widening as the mild mannered reporter floats above the ground.

Oh. My. Freaking. Gosh!

Clark Kent is Superman and Superman is Clark Kent. 

Tim gets lost in his thoughts, completely unaware of the alpha's growing concern the longer he keeps silent. It makes sense as to why he always thought the man looked familiar, at the time, he didn't really pay the familiar feeling any mind due to being obsessed focused on Bruce Wayne...but it turns out the feeling was because the "beta" is actually an alpha named Superman.

Metropolises most beloved hero is actually a bumbling reporter with a crush on Bruce Wayne. He wonders if Lois Lane knows yet.

Superman softly lands on the ground, extending his hand towards the pup slowly, as if he's trying not to scare a wild animal. "Hey, pup, are you alright? What are you doing up here? This building is really high, so I'd imagine you are pretty cold." It seems as if those words cause Tim to shiver, hm...I guess he was so distracted in his wait for Batman that he didn't process his own coldness. "Can I give you my cape? It'll keep you warm no matter what temperature." Those words bring out the little detective in Tim, he wants to ask so many questions about the material and even if Superman needs the cape himself because he can feel the cold, or if it's more so for any civilians he saves and needs to fly to somewhere safe.

But he can't...not now.

Tim only wants to be wrapped up in Batman's cape, in the exact same way that Robin is whenever he's around the man. "I don't need your cape, Superman. I'm just fine on my own, thanks."

The Kryptonian sighs at the horribly familiar words, his deep blue eyes looking Tim up and down curiously. "Don't tell me you are one of Batman's too? I...wouldn't imagine he'd leave you here alone and without warm clothes." Tim wipes the dirt off his clothes and hands, his interest only growing at the defeated look in the alpha's eyes, does-does he think that Tim isn't fit to be Batman's partner?

The boy growls as fiercely as he can, a small squeak escaping him in his attempts to be intimidating. "I'll have you know that while I'm not his partner yet, I have plenty of skills that will be beneficial to Batman!"

Superman steps back in shock, raising his hands in defeat and crooning at the distressed pup apologetically, the noise embarrassing Tim from how quickly he feels like nuzzling into the man. "Woah there, buddy? That's not what I meant, okay? And what do you mean by skills? You...you don't need to do anything to get the man to want you-" he looks away pitifully and murmurs-"not unless you're an alien from Krypton that is." Those words cause Tim to stop his growling, his look skeptical as he tilts his head, he thought that Superman was in love with Bruce not Batman?

"Wait...but I thought you liked B-"

A deep voice interrupts Tim's question, "Superman. I thought I told you to stop showing up here?" Both the alpha and pup startle at the vigilante's sudden appearance, the former smiling bashfully at the other while the latter gasps softly in awe. 

"I know you did...but I like seeing you, is that so bad?"

Robin steps out from underneath Batman's cape, his face displeased at the sight of the alpha. "I thought B also said he didn't want to see your ugly mug? Stay away from him, Superman." The pup is called back to the man's side, the boy humming contentedly at the gloved hands gently raking through his hair, "I didn't call him ugly, Robin. Though I did-" the alpha stops to scent the air, his gaze suddenly turning towards Tim and keeping him in place, a sharp inhale taken in as he notices the other pup's presence-"Oh!? I'm sorry, pup. I didn't see you there. Are you okay? Are you lost?"

That tone...it's oddly soothing-silky-in a way that only one other person's was before. But that person was Bruce Wayne...surely Batman actually isn't-

"Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" Batman takes a cautious step forward with his hands raised, freezing in surprise at the pup's laughter. "It's you, it's you, it's you! It's really you! I've been searching night and day for you and you're here." Tim shakes with excitement, scrambling forward until he gets close enough to the Bat, he would've gotten closer, but Robin steps in-between the omega protectively.

"Are you high or something?" Robin-Jason-whimpers softly at the gentle slap he receives to his head. "What!? This kid's not makin' any sense."

Tim manages to stand tall despite the slightly aggressive smell the other pup is giving off, he's obviously in the process of developing his own scent as a much more mature one is mixing in with the milky smell of a pup. "I'm here to be Batman's partner! I promise that I can provide a lot of aid to your mission! I won't get in the way!" Robin releases himself from his defensive stance, snorting in disbelief while glancing up at his mom. "He's gotta be joking? What kind of freak show is this?"

Tim balls up his fists and shakes his head furiously, afraid that if he doesn't say something now, Batman will ignore him or turn him away.

"I'm not a freak! I'm being serious! D-Do you know how much time I've put into this?! Every night for three years I have been studying you all's patterns, learning your schedules and keeping tabs on where your next fight will be in the hopes of catching you guys."

Robin takes a step back from the outburst, his sharp look-that Tim can't see-being replaced with one of concern for the younger boy in front of him. "I-...you stalked us? Don't you have a family to go back to or something? Why waste your time doing this? And if you have been following us this whole time, why haven't you ever introduced yourself before?" The younger pup fists at his clothes, once again shifting from foot to foot nervously as he responds, "B-Because I wasn't ready yet. I had to make sure that when I met Batman that everything about me was...prepared."

Tim is unbothered by Robin cringing at the information, all he's focused on is Batman and what he thinks of him. So far so good, he thinks. The omega hasn't pulled away in disgust, neither has he yelled at him to go away, so that must count for something?

Batman gently moves Robin aside, kneeling to Tim's level and grabbing the small hands within his own, rubbing the knuckles repeatedly with his thumbs. "Puppy, I...appreciate your eagerness to help me on this mission, but it's a very hard mission, and-" Tim shuffles forward a little, moving his hand to Batman's cape and gripping it tightly in his hands. "B-But what about your two Robins? They got to fight crime from a young age despite everything, t-they got to help you, why can't I? I-please? I promise that I can do a lot of work. I won't complain or anything-please? I just want to be with you."

Batman does his very best to beat down his instincts to take Tim home, he would in a heartbeat...really, he would, but...

"Your parents, pup. I'm sure they'd be worried about you. So, I think you should head home-" Tim feels his heart stop as that familiar warmth departs from him, frozen in place as Batman pulls away and stands up, pushing the boy closer to the Kryptonian gently-"Superman, can you take him home?"

Tim has no words as he's carefully wrapped up in Superman's red cape, that bone chilling coldness he's adapted to over the years consuming him as he's slowly lifted into the alpha's arms, hot tears pouring down his face unwillingly as the distance between him and Bruce grow further and further apart. "No-" his voice is but a cracked whisper-"No! G-Get off me-Batman, please! I don't w-wanna go home!" Superman shouts as the pup starts squirming mid-air, the alpha trying to calm the pup down and only receiving small fangs to his arm for his efforts. "Get off! Batman! P-Please!"

Superman touches down onto the ground again, lowering himself to the floor gently with the trembling pup in his firm hold, gently shushing the boy as he falls limp.

"W-Why?"

Tim whimpers and digs the palm of his hands into his wet eyes, "W-Why don't y-you remember m-me?" The boy sniffles and chokes on his spit, his breathing picking up as he panics. "W-Why doesn't anyone remember m-me? I can be a g-good pup-" he looks up at Bruce, seeing beyond the mask, because that's who he first admired the most-"M-Mama."

Batman whimpers at the broken noise and rushes to Tim, knees slamming into the rooftop floor as he snatches the troubled pup to his chest, cooing to the boy in reassurance while sending a warning growl Superman's way.

How dare he try to separate him from his pup.

"Timothy Jackson Drake-my little Tim-I...I never forgot you, pup. I always thought about you since the day we met-you-I-" he takes a deep breath in to calm himself-"You reeked of sadness and I did my best to help, even in that short amount of time we knew each other. I had always hoped that your mother and father would bring you to our meetings...but I never saw you, and I know things in Gotham kept me busy, but I never forgot you once."

That icy feeling in his bones is replaced by a warmth at his full name being said by Bruce. He...really did remember him? It wasn't just an experience that Tim let get into his head too much?

"T-Then why?"

Tim sniffles, rubbing his dripping nose on the dark cape, "Why can't I join you? M-My parents won't care, I-I promise they won't!" Batman frowns at that information, tucking the boy under his chin and wrapping his cape around the small frame protectively. "Tim...where are your parents? Did they..."

It's easy to fill in the blanks.

Tim shakes his head and murmurs, "Business trip. Couple weeks now. T-They never remember me."

The angry growl released from Bruce warms Tim to his core, just to know the omega thinks of him as one of his in some way is a relief. He knows that they'll need to talk about boundaries later, and there's still a part of him that hurts horribly at knowing his biological parents don't want him...but at least Bruce does, he imprinted on the man when they met.

The soft click of Superman's cape attaching back onto his suit causes both Tim and Bruce to look up at the worried alpha. "Is...everything okay? You two...uh, met before?" 

Tim squints suspiciously at the jealous glint in the man's eyes...is he...jealous of a pup, really? Wait! Maybe he's thinking about it all wrong? If Clark Kent has a crush on Bruce Wayne, and Superman constantly visits this rooftop in hopes of seeing Batman, that could mean that A: Superman has a crush on both and it's a coincidence that he's flirting with the same man, or 2: Superman knows Batman's identity and is beating around the bush by following both personas instead of being an alpha about it and confessing.

Batman stands up with Tim held securely in his arms, the pup's theory being confirmed simply at the way the alpha looks lovingly at the omega for cradling a pup to his side.

And that's a look Tim has seen Clark Kent make many times towards Bruce Wayne at galas and no one else.

"We did." Batman finally answers the alpha's question.

Superman nods slowly, scratching his head restlessly, his lips pursing slightly in thought before speaking: "How? Was...uh...did you meet Tim's father? Do you two know each other or something?" Tim takes a glance towards Batman when his grip tightens on him, the omega's posture radiating bashfulness from the questions. Hm? So Batman does know Superman's identity too. The omega has only ever reacted this shyly towards one humble, Midwestern reporter.

"My father and B are great friends! Batman here even gave my dad a way to contact him, you know?" Blue eyes take notice of the alpha's clenched fists, his eyes sparkling mischievously as they are only confirming his theories.

"Oh? And is your father a hero too?"

Tim opens his mouth to respond, being stopped by a gloved hand covering his mouth, imagining the glare the omega is directing towards the alpha for his prodding. "And why is that of any concern to you? It's my business who I hand my personal information out to." The silence between the two heroes is tense, the alpha conceding with an apologetic smile and an awkward chuckle. "You are...absolutely right, Batman. I don't know what came over me." The Kryptonian trails off, eyeing the shorter man closely as he nuzzles into Tim, his night blue eyes longingly looking at the two and causing the pup to sigh tiredly.

It hasn't even been that long and he's already tired of seeing their willful ignorance of each other's identities.

"You know, I just don't see why I haven't gotten a way to contact you."

Tim grows confused at the groan coming from Batman and Robin, this must be a topic that comes up often, each time being met with the denial of any personal information or way of contact. "We've been over this, Superman, if I need your help-which I don't-then I can call for you. You have super hearing, so you don't need a way to contact me."

The alpha and omega startle at Tim speaking up, "One rule of thumb for any businessman is don't mix pleasure with your biz."

Superman's gaze is quizzical, his deep blue's shifting from Batman to Tim for answers, the pup sighing and gesturing from Clark to Bruce. "I've heard that Mr. Wayne has been looking into buying the Daily Planet-" he tries to hold in his smirk at the omega's breath hitching in surprise-"Do you know what that means, Superman?" The alpha visibly deflates, "He's not looking for a relationship?" The pup facepalms, "I've heard the Daily Planet has a humble reporter named Clark Kent. He's someone I've seen at galas always making goo goo eyes at Bruce Wayne." At those words, Superman clears his throat with a nervous laugh, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing to Batman's face from underneath the mask.

"Why would I be interested in knowing t-that?"

Tim smirks, "Because...I know you know Lois Lane, Clark Kent's best friend. Maybe you'd be willing to tell her so she can tell Clark, that Bruce Wayne is just as goo goo eyed at Clark Kent than he is with him. Though, I think if either of them had working eyeballs, they'd see what's in front of them already." The emphasis on the last few words cause Superman and Batman to pause, the two standing as still as statues before the alpha laughs loudly while the omega uses the pup in his arms as a barrier between him and Clark when the taller steps closer to him. "I...wasn't sure if you figured it out yet. I knew the day I lead you and Jason up to your room-" Bruce's voice is soft as he finishes the sentence, "The interaction was familiar. You...you found out at the same time?"

Tim nuzzles into Bruce's suit before hopping out of his arms, giving the adults time to speak to each other properly, yelping as Robin slings his arm around his neck and pulls him in close, nuzzling his hair fondly with an excited smile on his face.

"Welcome to the family, Tim!"

The pup chirps in pleasant surprise, nuzzling into his new older brother as he lets the taller scent him, his eyes watering with happiness as he whispers in disbelief, "Yeah...my family."

(Beginning of notes from AO3–I know this chapter wasn't as...full blown protective for a specific reason, but him defending Tim from his self-deprecation and sadness counts, right? 😂 I just really wanted to focus on a neglect-ish kind of aspect here and not anything necessarily big or grand like traumatic flashbacks (necessarily) or mean socialites, instead, it's mean parents.

To explain Clark's defeated look when seeing Tim, he's just afraid that all these pups means Bruce is taken and in a relationship lol. Oh! And excuse Jason's brashness here, he was speaking harshly cause he was protective of his mom is all, but he recognized the loneliness in Tim's voice quite quickly and softened up.

I am a firm believer that Bruce's children adopted him just as much as he chose to do to them 😂. In this story, they all kind of quickly imprint on him. Also, Tim's attachment to Bruce's is obviously implied at him recognizing a familiarity in the way the omega interacted with him...so, he kind of saw him as his "new" mother when they first met, all because Bruce treated him kindly.

Tim will obviously get help for that over the years, and he does genuinely see Bruce as his mom, it's not just a desperation there. I just wanted to focus on his frantic thoughts more.

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. You are are truly loved and greatly appreciated! 💛–End of notes from AO3.)

Links to: Part 1: The Interview, Part 2: The Gala.

[guubiiz]

. . . and incest. phantom troupe u are NOT safe !

p*ss kink has been running wild 2day . . . la squadra u are NOT safe !

[neferaskingdom]

♡ You're Doing Amazing Sweetie | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: George finds out and the only thing Y/n can do is hide and pray that George doesn't take out Max on track.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/n paces anxiously near the monitors while Charles and Lando loiter as if they had all the time in the world. Charles had his arms crossed, his race suit tied around his waist, and Lando was demolishing a plate of snacks meant for the Ferrari engineers. Y/n had been hiding out in the Ferrari garage since the paddock opened to avoid crossing paths with George.

“Okay, tell me the truth—how screwed am I?” Y/n asks, whipping around to face them.

“Oh, monumentally,” Lando replies through a mouthful of cookie. “Like Titanic levels. Possibly Pompeii.”

Charles nods along solemnly. “Also George is definitely plotting something. He walked by earlier muttering to himself like a Bond villain.”

“Fuck” Y/n groans pacing faster.

“You do realize hiding here makes you look guiltier, right?” Lando says, biting into another cookie

Y/n glares at him. “What do you want me to do? Parade around the paddock with a sign that says ‘Yes George, I am the mother of Max Verstappen’s future spawn’?!”

Charles snorts so hard that his espresso nearly spills. “Please don’t. George would spontaneously combust.”

“Plus technically speaking this is your fault,” Lando says, jabbing a finger at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “My fault? I’m not the one who told the entire world, ‘If it weren’t for the baby.’”

“That part was clearly Max’s fault,” Lando interjects, not looking up from his plate. “But this whole ‘let’s date secretly’ thing? Yeah, I’m blaming you for that one.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n shoots back.

“Don’t get defensive,” Charles says, holding his hands up. “But we told you this would end in disaster. And now? Look at you. Hiding in my garage like some kind of fugitive because George looks like he’s ready to blow up Redbull’s hospitality. You should have told George the second you two realized your relationship was serious.”

Y/n groans, tugging at her hair. “What’s done is done and I can’t change that now can I? And I’m here because I obviously can’t stay at the Mercedes garage if I want to avoid my brother and staying at Redbull is a deathwish. Imagine what’ll happen if he catches us both in the same place. I just hope George doesn't do anything stupid in public”

“Why do you think we’re here?” Lando says, grinning as he gestures to himself and Charles. “We’re like the UN Peacekeepers of the paddock. We’ll keep them both separate and make sure nothing happens today.”

“Like that's very reassuring,” Y/n mutters.

As the drivers line up for the national anthem, Y/n stays glued to the monitors, trying to keep a low profile. George, however, was impossible to miss.

“Great,” she mutters to herself as the camera pans to him. His jaw was clenched, his expression thunderous. It looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Oscar was hovering near George, subtly blocking him every time he shifted toward Max. Y/n couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Aussie, who looked like he’d accidentally wandered into a battlefield.

From his other side, Lando was casually draping an arm over his shoulder as if trying to calm him down. Instead, it seems to piss off George even more as he tried to shrug him off with a sharp glare, but Lando remained latched on.

“Please let this be over,” Y/n pleads at the screen.

The tension only escalated as the drivers headed to their cars. George made one last attempt to corner Max, and Y/n’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Oh no. Oh no. Don’t do it,” she whispered at the screen.

Oscar, ever the unwilling mediator, once again intercepted George, his hands up in a placating gesture. Y/n let out a relieved breath as George backed off, though he still looked furious.

She slumped back into her seat, her nerves frayed.

“Just one race,” she muttered to herself. “One race without drama. Is that too much to ask for?”

The drivers climbed into their cars, and the screen cut to the grid formation. Y/n felt a brief moment of peace, knowing that for the next couple of hours, George and Max would be too busy driving to tear into each other.

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Tensions are at an all-time high after today’s race! George Russell’s post-race interview took a dramatic turn when a journalist brought up Max’s cryptic baby comment and rumors about George’s sister. 😱 After repeatedly trying to dodge the question, George snapped, delivered a firm warning about personal boundaries, and stormed off.

The paddock drama just keeps escalating. Fans spotted George glaring at Max throughout the national anthem, and it seems like Oscar and Lando had to play paddock security to keep the peace. What’s your take on all this chaos? 🍼👀

Post-Race Interview Transcript:

Journalist: George, P5 today—a decent result to round out the season. Can you walk us through how you’re feeling about the race and the team’s performance?

George: (nodding) Yeah, it was a solid race. Not quite the result we hoped for, but the team worked hard all weekend. We gave it our best shot with the car we had. Of course, as a driver, you always want more, but I think we made the most of the opportunities we had out there.

Journalist: Fair enough. And, of course, today marks the end of an era with Lewis Hamilton’s final race for Mercedes. What’s it like to share this moment with him? Any reflections?

George: (pauses, visibly emotional) It’s bittersweet, really. Lewis has been such a huge part of the team and the sport as a whole. He’s not just a teammate but also a mentor and a legend in Formula 1. Sharing the garage with him has been an honor. I think I speak for everyone at Mercedes when I say we’re incredibly grateful for everything he’s brought to the team and wish him all the best for what comes next.

Journalist: Well said. Now, George, I have to shift gears a bit—there’s been a lot of chatter about some off-track tension. During the national anthem, fans couldn’t help but notice you glaring at Max Verstappen. Care to address that?

George: (stiffens, smile faltering) I wasn’t glaring at anyone. I was focused on the race, like I always am. People are reading into things that just aren’t there.

Journalist: Really? Because from the footage, it looked quite... pointed. And after Max’s comments yesterday about making peace with you ‘because of a baby,’ it’s hard not to wonder—

George: (cuts in, voice tight) I don’t see how that’s relevant to today’s race.

Journalist: (pressing) George, fans are speculating nonstop. Is it true? Is your sister having Max Verstappen’s baby?

George: (visibly bristling, voice rising) I think we’ve strayed far enough from the purpose of this interview. This is about Formula 1, about racing—not gossip or baseless rumors.

Journalist: With all due respect, George, Max’s words weren’t exactly cryptic. He was talking about a baby and making amends with you. Surely, you can understand why people are curious.

George: (snaps, voice sharp) Curious or not, it’s none of anyone’s business. This is supposed to be a post-race interview—not a soap opera recap. The media needs to learn where to draw the line. We’re here to race, not have our personal lives dissected under a microscope.

Journalist: But George, the fans—

George: (interrupts sharply) No. Enough. The media needs to maintain boundaries and stop meddling in our personal lives. I’m done here.

(George rips off his team cap, storms away from the interview pen, and disappears into the paddock, leaving the journalist and cameras stunned.)

Comments:

user: George was NOT here for the nonsense today. That ‘draw the line’ speech? ICONIC

user: Honestly, respect to George for standing up for himself. The journalist was pushing way too hard. Let the man race in peace user: Never seen George this mad before 😳 What is going on in the House of Commons???

user: Why do I feel like this confirms the baby news? Like he didn’t deny it, and his reaction was TOO intense

user: Respect to George for standing up to the journalist, but let’s not lie—he 100% confirmed the drama with that reaction. 🍼

user: Okay, but imagine George finding out about the baby at the same time as us 😭

user: George looked like he was going to deck Max during the national anthem. Thank you, Oscar, for literally being a human shield

user: No but why did George look like he was seconds away from body-slamming Max during the anthem? Lando had to literally hold him back 💀

user: Okay, but the real question is… what BABY? Whose baby? Did George even KNOW about this baby before today?!

user: Theory time! 1. Max and Y/n were dating in secret. 2. George didn’t know about the baby and is spiraling. 3. Netflix is eating GOOD

user: Imagine being George and learning about your sister’s alleged baby from Twitter

user: Lewis’ last race with Merc and THIS is what George has to deal with. Poor guy’s gonna need therapy after this season

user: The way everyone’s ignoring this is also Lewis’ last race with Mercedes 💀. George snapped so hard we forgot to be emotional

user: Lando probably whispered something dumb like ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’ while George was vibrating with rage

user: F1 isn’t just a sport. It’s a reality TV show with occasional car racing

Max stood under the glare of the cameras, trying to look composed despite the post-race fatigue gnawing at him. P6 wasn’t what he’d wanted, but at least he’d avoided the chaos brewing elsewhere in the paddock—or so he thought.

“So, the strategy was clearly compromised by the penalty,” the journalist asked, her tone probing. “Do you think there was any way to recover from that?”

Max nodded slightly, his words coming out measured. “Yeah, it was tough. We lost track position early, and once you’re in traffic—”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

The voice was eerily calm, almost polite, but it carried a weight that immediately silenced the conversation. Max turned to see George standing there, his posture casual but his jaw clenched tight.

The journalist blinked, clearly taken aback. “Uh, George? We’re in the middle of—”

“I need a moment with Max,” George cut her off, his tone civil but firm. He glanced at Max’s PR manager with an unnervingly calm smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The PR manager hesitated, looking between Max and George. Max let out a quiet sigh, already resigned to whatever was about to unfold. He gave a small nod. “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before anyone could say another word, George’s hand clamped onto Max’s shoulder. It wasn’t rough, but it left no room for argument.

Max allowed himself to be steered away, his body language slumping slightly as though accepting his fate. George didn’t say a word as he guided Max through the paddock, weaving past mechanics and team personnel. A few glanced their way, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to intervene.

“Are you going to say something, or are we just walking in ominous silence?” Max finally muttered, keeping his tone light but knowing full well George wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

George didn’t respond, his grip tightening slightly as they turned into a quieter corridor behind the team hospitality units.

“Okay,” Max said with a dry laugh, “this is starting to feel like a bad cop drama.”

George stopped abruptly, spinning Max around and slamming him against the wall. The thud echoed in the empty space, and Max winced slightly but didn’t resist.

“We need to talk,” George said, his voice low and steely, every word laced with barely contained anger.

Max met his gaze, his usual unflappable demeanor faltering under the intensity of George’s glare. For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

@anilovessadbooks @mangotaitai @vtryy @finn-dot-com @sarahsobsession

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

oikawa fucking your throat while iwaizumi is in the room next door...

his hand is on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping into the bathroom cupboard every time he bottoms out. his pubes tickle your nose and you gag around his cock, making him to bite down on his lip in order to muffle the loud groan that's forcing its way up his throat.

he doesn't pull out.

he strokes your cheek with his free hand instead, a sick smile playing on his lips as he stares down at you. "y'have to be quiet, baby... or iwa is going to hear you, okay?"

beads of sweat form above his brows, his cheeks are dusted pink and his voice is raspier than ever and it's easy to forget the ache in your knees when you get to see him unraveling like this in front of you.

his hair is a mess, too – just before coming in here, he had his head on your lap, quietly purring as you played with his soft curls. iwaizumi was sat at the other end of the couch, his eyes glued on the tv screen where the movie oikawa himself had chosen.

you think this was his plan all along – to pick a film his friend would love so he could toy with you instead.

iwaizumi didn't notice the way oikawa kept kneading your thighs as he laid there on top of you, how his fingers inched further between your legs with every breath he took. iwaizumi didn't notice the way oikawa kept squirming, or the way he kept trying to readjust his pants.

(or at least, you think iwaizumi missed it all.)

you tried to make him stop, your body burning from his teasing touch. glancing over at iwaizumi, you were glad to never meet his gaze – like a statue he was, eyes set forward as if was built that way. maybe he really did just like the film so much..

oikawa knows that's not the case.

he knows the film is the last thing on iwaizumi's mind right now.

he has seen the way he looks at you sometimes, how iwaizumi flushes a pretty shade of dark pink whenever he happens to see you bending over. or when you sit a little too close to him by accident – oikawa doesn't mind, he can tell you're not doing it on purpose. it's not like iwaizumi is doing any of it on purpose either; the way he screws his eyes shut after catching himself staring at you while your boyfriend, his best friend, is in the same room. he feels bad, he feels awful about having these thoughts. these filthy ideas.

but he really can't help it.

oikawa isn't making it any easier for him either; he's constantly all over you and while iwaizumi knows that he is very touchy, the eye-contact oikawa makes with him as he's pressing a kiss just below your jaw cannot be anything other than him trying to push iwaizumi's buttons.

he hates how much hotter your reactions make the whole thing, too. the way your eyes meet his for a mere second before shying away. oikawa can only laugh to himself as you try to shove him off of you, knowing full well that if you really wanted him to stop, you'd tell him. you want the attention as much as oikawa does and it shows.

and oikawa is more than excited to give his best friend a deeper look into your relationship.

so, here he is now – balls pressed against your chin as you drool and slobber all over his dick. he knows that iwaizumi is listening, he can see the shadow from beneath the door. and that's turning him on even more.

oikawa cradles your jaw before giving his hips one more thrust, his blown wide eyes twinkling at the sight of your rolling back inside your head at the feeling of having your mouth so full. of having him so far deep your throat.

you hold back another gag as spit dribbles from the corners of your lips and it's making a big fucking mess – it's all over your chin and your neck, and your soft plush thighs. the shorts you're wearing are doing almost nothing to cover you up and with the way you're down on your knees right now, they seem to have disappeared entirely under the hem of your oversized shirt.

it's fucking hot.

oikawa watches the sticky liquid trickle between your legs and he can't but be proud of how big of a mess he's making in his friend's bathroom. he knows for a fact that iwaizumi's listening to you two right now, his ear probably pressed against the wooden door as he tries to memorize every sound that you make. every gag, every splutter of drool. oikawa wonders whether he's touching himself too, is he rubbing his bulge over his sweats or is he still trying to act normal. is he still trying to convince himself that he isn't a dirty fucking pervert, who's currently collecting masturbation material by creeping on his best friend and his beloved while they're having fun?

you tap on his thigh with a shaky hand and he pulls away in a second, his dick springing up and slapping against his tummy at the same time you take a desperate breath in. he chuckles at your ruined state.

the tears brimming at your lashline make you look like an angel and oikawa can't tear his eyes off of you. there's a shine to your swollen lips; it's a mixture of your own drool and his precum – his favourite.

you're still trying to catch your breath when you look up at him; his fingers are wrapped around his length, his fist meeting his full balls with every strong stroke he makes and this look, the layer of pleasure that's painted onto his pretty face is something you wish to burn into your memory forever.

when your eyes meet, oikawa gives you a darling smile before lunging at you, hunching over in order to smash his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss. keeping a steady pace on his cock, he grabs at your face as if he's afraid you'll fade away – he moans into your mouth, the salty residue on your tongue making his dick twitch in his hand.

the slick sounds of oikawa pumping himself and him trying to eat your face reverberate through the room andn suddenly you remember where you are.

your eyes grow big as you try to push at oikawa's chest.

"w– wait.. "

he grins while nipping at your jaw. "what's wrong, baby?"

his teeth brush over your pulse point and he doesn't waste a second before sinking them into your skin and sucking until he's rewarded you with the most gorgeous masterpiece in the world. all the best for his lover.

"haji– hajime's here... "

"no, it's just me, baby." a wave of goosebumps runs over your body when you feel him licking the fresh mark on your neck. "your boyfriend, tooru. remember?"

he laughs at his own joke, his head resting against yours as he pushes himself back up. oh, and how he wants to drop back down when he sees the glare you're giving him. "tough crowd, hm?"

oikawa coos at your scrunched up brows while brushing a finger over your pouty lips. "aw, don't worry, he's in the other room, okay? you're being so good for me, all quiet and pretty. my angel."

it's hard not to believe his sickly sweet words, the love in his eyes smoothing every pain and worry in your body with ease. you don't say anything else when he steps closer again, now replacing the finger on your lips with his sticky tip instead. "yeah?"

he cocks an eyebrow and you give him a nod. the corners of his lips stretch wider as he pumps his cock right above your face. "say 'aaaaaah' for me, baby."

this cocky side of him is something you've never been able to resist. it looks good on him. his own lips part alongside with yours when you present your mouth to him again and he doesn't even try to hold back the pornographic moan that spills from him at the feeling of your warm tongue sliding against the underside of his cock.

but while you're distracted by the heavenly sound of your boyfriend's overwhelming pleasure, you miss the creak of the bathroom door.

oikawa's eyes meet iwaizumi's ashamed ones through the slightest crack but neither of them make any effort to look away. oikawa is more than happy to finally see his best friend crumble and iwaizumi is mortified.

but he can't.

he can't move. he can't close the door. he can't stop staring.

oikawa's eyes fall down to your screwed shut ones, pride blooming in his chest when your nose touches his trimmed pubic hairs. head still shoved against the cupboard, he's the one in full control – your mouth is his, your body a perfect doll for him to play with. and he loves it.

you swallow around him and he lets out yet another heavenly moan. his hand is back on your cheek, his warm palm engulfing the side of your face in reassurance that while he's got the reigns, it's all done with love. your eyes crack open just as another few tears drop and oikawa's hips pick up the pace. he adores it when you hold his gaze; he thinks it's the most romantic thing in the world and so whenever you do it while taking him in your mouth, he just loses it.

quickly, he places his free hand behind your head again and then he's fucking your mouth like it's the only things he knows. back and forth, his cock slides in and out your tight, warm throat; the sounds that come from the act are just outright sinful, they're something a person could only hear in his dreams and oikawa doesn't know what he did to deserve a sweetheart like you.

it doesn't take a lot for him to sense his nearing orgasm, his body going rigid, tensing up as the knot in his lower tummy tightens and tightens.

iwaizumi is still there. oikawa doesn't need to look at him to know it.

from the corner of his eye he can see movement – so he is finally giving in. iwaizumi is stroking himself through the material of his sweats, his cock painfully hard as he watches oikawa fuck your mouth. he has never seen anything like this; maybe in some videos, sure, but seeing it with his own two eyes is completely different.

the sounds. the sweat. the drool.

the eye-contact you have with oikawa. the way he's holding you.

the fact that he hasn't told iwaizumi to 'fuck off' yet. the fact that he clearly wants him there, that he wants him to see this.

his own precum is starting to leak through his pants and it's embarrassing. but there's no stopping now. not when oikawa's hips are starting to stutter, not when you're starting to guide him to yourself by sinking your nails into the back of his thighs.

oikawa gives you second long breaks but you're handling it so well that iwaizumi begins to wonder how much you let him do this. would you ever let him—

he shakes his head to get rid of the thought, the idea of actually doing anything with you weighing heavily on his heart. and if sensing his inner turmoil, oikawa's raspy voice breaks him out from his head.

"fuck.. you- you'd like it if he did hear you, right?"

iwaizumi's eyes almost pop out of their sockets, his lips parting as panic flood his veins. based on the look on oikawa's face, he assumes that you don't agree with him – he's staring at you with that grin of his, the infuriating one, and iwaizumi prepares for him to pull out, so you can finally see what he's been doing. so you can see what kind of a man he really is.

but oikawa doesn't pull away, bottoming out instead. he takes a moment as if he's waiting for your answer – and when he gets one, the very same he knew would be the truth, his lips stretch even wider.

he doesn't need you to say it when he can read your body better than any other language in the world.

he sees the way your thighs press together. he feels your nails digging into his thighs harder than ever before. he knows his right.

like always.

"yeah... that's what i thought."

iwaizumi thinks he might pass out. his hands shake and the air he's breathing doesn't seem good enough – he's trying his best to not start panting like a dog but you not disagreeing with oikawa is a lot. you want him to hear? you want him to be a part of this?

you want.. him?

"want haji to see you like this, hm? want him to see how well you take me down your throat?"

iwaizumi thinks he might die actually.

oikawa chuckles when you blink up at him with tears in your eyes and coos at you when he takes his dick out of your mouth and you still don't say no. "my little star, yeah?"

you show him your tongue and he groan at the way you give yourself to him. he bottoms for the last time of the night, his messy balls pressed flushed against your drool-covered chin as you struggle to keep your eyes on him. "in— fuck— inside?"

humming around his cock, you give him the last push and then he's already spilling his seed down your hungry throat. you gag around him again, the feeling of cum suddenly flooding your mouth a bit too much. with a hand in your head, oikawa pulls away and watches you swallow as much of him as you can. the rest of it spills out from the corners of your lips and trickles down your chin and neck, successfully mixing with every other type of bodily fluid that's already coating your skin.

and then you give him a smile.

oikawa feels like his knees are going to give out as he throws his head back with a dramatic moan. "ohhh.... "

"what?"

his head snaps back to its place, his eyes finding yours in an instant while you slap a hand over your mouth.

your voice. it's almost completely gone, reduced down to a bare rasp by his relentless thrusts and his need to always give it his all, no matter what he's doing.

a sudden flash of shyness takes over, the tone coming from your mouth sounding so unfamiliar that it's almost impossible for you to accept that it is, in fact, yours. but when oikawa kneels down in front of you, his both hands now on your cheeks and when his heart filled eyes find yours, the feelings disappears.

he presses his lips against your forehead and you feel the fondness spread all over your body. "i love you so much, did you know that?"

his cheeks are still pink and despite the fact that just a minute ago, he was fucking your throat like it was his own personal fleshlight, he looks awfully cute with that bashful smile on his face.

oikawa nudges his nose against yours when you don't speak up again, only nodding your head with a tired smile.

"so cute."

the slap against his chest forces another burst of giggles out of your boyfriend but you're not mad. you do love him afterall. he pulls you into his chest and lets you rest for a minute before tugging you up and helping you clean yourself up.

iwaizumi is gone.

oikawa can only imagine the way his best friend is now shamefully changing out of his ruined sweats, the images of you and oikawa now forever engrained into his brain.

after oikawa carries you back to the couch, he snickers at iwaizumi and his fresh pair of pants. but that's all. nobody says anything – iwaizumi doesn't inquire about why you left him all alone and you don't ask about the flush on his cheeks.

oikawa is the only one that is sitting proudly between the two people he loves the most. his fingers dance over the sensitive skin of iwaizumi's nape while his other hand rests on your shoulder, holding you to him as you slowly doze off into your dreamland.

he's very happy about the progress you've all made today.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Sylus

Is it still kidnapping if you’re in love with him? Yes. It is. Welcome to the N109 Zone get comfortable baby pt. 1 here

Self-Aware!Sylus who can call anywhere home, but is becoming less and less interested in the N109 zone because you’re not there “Well you can’t come here” “Why not?” “You’re not real Sylus how would you come here?” he turns tapping his chin as if he's actually trying to figure out a way to access your world “You could come here”

Sylus wouldn’t out right say it, but he was desperate to have you in his arms it just never seemed possible. There was nothing either of you could do so you settled for a love that would end tragically because you just couldn’t let him go. You found yourself daydreaming constantly about spending your days with him. What it would be like to hold his hand instead of your phone. To caress his cheek and feel his warmth in the palm of your hand. You gave yourself butterflies just imagining him melting into your touch.

Just him.

“You’re spacing out Princess” You slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. You glanced down at the celery you were mindlessly chopping. “Shit I didn’t mean to dice it” You huffed and scraped it onto the pan anyway; there was no way you were going back to the store right now. You looked back at Sylus who was casually sitting on his couch watching a musical. Sometimes it really made you feel crazy seeing him like this. Not the in-game repeated movements that he was programmed to do, but fluid movement and everyday life activities. It really felt like you were talking to a person and not just code in a game. “What are you watching?”

Sylus hummed off key as he answered “Heathers” You giggled at the fact that the big bad Onychinus leader watches musicals in his living room during his free time. “You should join me” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and smiled to himself like there was some inside joke you didn’t catch. “Only in our dreams” You smiled at him, but it was somber the reality of your relationship always made you a little sad yet here you were doing nothing to end it. You turned back to stir the vegetables you had sautéing because the last thing you need is for them to overcook.

That's when you heard the clearest voice in your ear “Just dreams?” You spun around rapidly flinging food in the process. Your heart pounded against your chest as you scanned the empty kitchen looking for any other sign of life. You immediately swapped out the spoon for the knife you had just minutes earlier. “Sylus please tell me you heard that”

Silence.

You glanced at your phone and saw that the screen was off. “Is there a fucking demon in my house right now?” You snatched your phone ready to call a friend to come over, but your efforts were thwarted when a band of silky red and black mist wrapped around your wrist wrenching you backwards. “I’ve been called worse”

You breath hitched causing you to choke on your own spit as you came face to face with Sylus. Are you going crazy? You struggled against his evol that felt like what you could only describe as smoke with density. “I must be hallucinating” You’ve imagined having this man in front of you for months, but you had no idea he would be this terrifying in person. It felt like you were standing before a hungry wolf that wouldn’t second guess snapping your neck. Why was his demeanor so damn scary? Before you could even process what was happening Sylus grabbed you buy the waist and pulled you close to him. “I’m sorry Princess but this is probably going to hurt”

“Wha-” Pain seared through you in an instant like lightning and fire at once. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as it felt like your vocal cords were singed to a crisp. The pain was unbearable it changed from searing to pins and needles almost like little pieces of you were splitting apart. You couldn’t handle it and your vision went dark as you passed out.

You came too slowly, groaning as you stretched your limbs on a stiff mattress. You sat up slowly realizing you were fine. Rolling your shoulders and rubbing your legs you were sure whatever that was must have just been a terrible dream. Maybe? “I knew I was dreaming” you couldn’t explain the amount of pain you felt though. You turned and noticed instead of your usual view of your room you were looking out amongst a vast dark city. “Where-”

“What do you think?” a voice said in your ear causing your fight or flight to kick in. You pulled your legs under yourself and swung your fist as hard as you could in the direction of the voice. The person groaned at the contact and you reached for the nearest object you could find which was a lamp and swung it, but your wrist was caught mid air and you were disarmed with ease. Within seconds you were pinned down on the mattress.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realized who was holding you down “Sylus?” He was just as intimidating as he was in your dream. Or was it a dream? “You’re not dreaming” Sylus squeezed your wrist tightly “Ow stop stop it hurts” he raised an eyebrow as his lip quirked up “See?” You rolled your eyes he was way too amused with your reaction for your liking. “We need to work on that right hook of yours it's a little weak” He can’t be serious right now you just punched him in his jaw and tried to beat him over the head with a lamp and the first thing he thinks of is training your punches to get better? Typical.

Sylus couldn’t help but, chuckle at your expression with your brows furrowed and your lips curled in frustration. “I wish you could see yourself right now” You pushed his face away with your free hand irritated with him for causing you that much pain.

“I wish you would get a new mattress why is this bitch so stiff my fucking back hurts” You squirmed underneath him. He inhaled a sharp breath making you freeze realizing the position you were in; he was nestled perfectly between your legs with one hand pinned above your head. Suddenly there was a knock at the door “Boss we heard some commotion are you okay?” Sylus rolled his eyes “I’m fine. Leave.”

“Yes boss” The sound of footsteps retreated until there was silence again. Sylus looked down at you furrowing his brows, this time is was your turn to smirk. “Don’t say it” He warned. Your lips quivered as you tried to stop your smile from forming “Are those my boys?” Sylus gave you a bored look before rolling his eyes at you as well. “Do you know how hard it was to bring you here Princess? You’re more excited for Luke and Kieran than me” Sylus expression seemed irritated, but the look in his eyes was pouty. You had Sylus jealous of his own men now that was an ego boost. You squirmed in his hold again trying to free yourself. “This is a lot for me Sylus you have some explaining to do" You kicked your legs like a toddler trying to sit up once again "And let me get up your mattress is not comfortable!”

Sylus huffed at your commands, but of course he listened getting up and pulling you with him. He had you straddle his lap with his hands gently placed on your waist. “Is this more comfortable?” He leaned back against the headboard his eyes traveling up and down your body. Based on the look in his eyes it was almost as if even he couldn’t believe you were not only in front of him, but on top of him at the moment.

“No! w-well y-yea but-” You cut yourself off to save face. This man really had you stuttering like porky the pig. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you could. “How the actual fuck am I here right now Sylus”

“Energy manipulation is stronger than you think” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“If you turn something into pure energy it can travel wherever you want it to even into as you call it a game world” His words bounced around in your head as you tried to make sense of them. What does he mean energy can travel anywhere. Then it hit you. The searing pain, pins and needles, the black out. “You turned me into pure energy to bring me here?!” You screamed in his face.

“Something like that” He replied in a bored tone “The shopkeeper said it should only hurt the first time” You rubbed your temples just trying to stay calm, how were you supposed to be okay with the fact that you were seemingly ripped apart and put back together inside of a damn game. You felt Sylus shifting underneath you and his hands running up your sides. “Tell me” he tilted your chin down so he could look you in the eye. “Are you not happy to have me like this?” he wrapped his arms around your waist while he rested his chin on your chest. “I can hear your heart beating fast”

“Of course I'm happy to see you” You cradled his face in your hands and he immediately melted into your touch. It was even better than you imagined it would be. His eyes closed and you could feel the satisfying hum that rumbled in his chest. You stared in awe at the sight before you; he was really melting because of you. He opened his eyes and dropped his gaze to your lips causing them to part “Prove it.”

You didn’t need to be a genius to know he wanted a kiss. You two spend many nights talking about it. He made you promise that if you ever actually met him the first thing you would do is kiss him. That promise was clearly broken since the first thing you did was punch him in the face. His lips looked so soft and full you didn’t hesitate to lean in and Sylus met you half way. It lasted no longer than three seconds before you pulled away. “What's wrong?" You shook your head and looked away “Nothing you’re just making me nervous”

You had no time to prepare yourself as Sylus slammed you back on your back and pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Your eyes bugged out of your head before slightly rolling back as you gave into him. He nipped at your bottom lip and shoved his tongue in when you opened up for him. You thought he would be more rough, but he was actually so gentle. He kissed you like he was trying to perfectly mold your mouth to only fit his. No more like it was already made to fit only him. You wrapped you arms around his neck and snaked one hand up the back of his head tugging the hair at the nape. He smiled against your lips “Do that again” he whispered, hooking your leg over his hip. You tugged even harder this time relishing in the satisfied groan he let out.

You could do this for hours, but you had too many questions. You pulled his head away trying to catch your breath. “We’re not done talking Sylus” He sucked his teeth and sighed heavily as he sat up. This time he didn’t pull you onto his lap he helped you sit up and fixed your shirt that was riding up from him almost removing it. “Ask your questions” He leaned back against the headboard with his arms crossed. You couldn’t help, but giggle at the slight pout he was failing to hide. "For starters where can we buy a softer mattress?"

[luveline]

because I just binged read all the office frenemies au James, can we pleaseeee have like them interacting after they've been on the coffee date, or just them dating in general? and maybe r teasing James instead of James teasing r? tqqq

—James begs for a kiss, and you’re almost caught. fem, 1.2k

You thought your life was over the second you kissed James Potter. You kissed him, you went first; the second you lifted your chin, you were giving him power over you he didn’t have before. You were confessing that all your arguments and quipping had turned from real annoyance to fondness. 

You thought he’d hold it against you. You didn’t really consider that he might enjoy being kissed by you. 

“Oh, please,” he says, pushing across his sofa to hold your arm, “please, don’t be angry with me. I’m sick of you frowning, and I usually love it when you frown.” 

“I’m not kissing you,” you say. 

“Please,” he says, dark strands of hair falling across his forehead. You can see your face in his glasses if you concentrate, but his eyes distract you, their pupils brown as the slick bark of a sycamore. 

“The last time you brought me here, James, you laid me out on the sofa like a– like we were in some sort of dirty movie, and Sirius nearly caught us. You know he and Remus are already suspicious of us.” 

“They aren’t, they aren’t,” he insists, his hand spreading warmly across your stomach, “I told them we’re just friends now.” 

“And they didn’t believe it.” 

“Well, no, but that’s because everyone’s under the impression you might kill me one day.” 

“How do they know you’re not gonna try and kill me?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his pinky skirting adoringly under your ribs. “You’re the boy.”

“Don’t be sexist.” 

“Don’t be obtuse.” 

James is an aching sort of pretty. If you think about it, frenemies or otherwise, you never for a moment thought he’d want you. He’s made his jokes, but he’s said things with sincerity that are too much to ignore. You can be so lovely. 

You find that you want him to think it again. 

He looks down at your stomach, teasing the creases of your t-shirt between his fingers. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, raising your hand to his ear. You draw a line down the shell of it and catch the lobe under your index finger. “Let’s kiss, then.” 

“Seriously?” he asks. His head comes up fast with enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, I think so. Just don’t push me over again.” 

“Don’t say it like that, I didn’t push you, I just laid on top of you,” he says, bringing his hand to your cheek, where he holds you with all the tenderness of a practised lover, like he’s known you for years, “and you seemed to like it, I’ll have you know.” 

“James,” you whisper, thinking, if he’s gonna play it that way, “I–” You enthuse your tone with a timid sort of longing, which isn’t hard to procure. “I liked it, of course I did, I’ve never felt like this before, I just don’t want…”

He rubs your cheek gently. His eyes fill with a sorriness that nearly makes you feel bad for messing with him. “We’re being careful, yeah? Sirius won’t find out. No one will until we want them to.”

“Who says I want them to?” 

He doesn’t fill with anger nor annoyance; his eyes light with delight at your regular tone. “You’re such a devious, wicked girl,” he says, brushing a line up your cheek with his thumb. “You had me, then.” 

“Don’t I always?” 

He gives a self-deprecating scoff. “I’d rather you didn’t think so, but yes.” 

“I really don’t want Sirius to find out.” 

“He’s not home for hours,” James says easily. “Knowing that, would you like to have a kiss now?” 

“I already asked for one.” 

He hums his agreement against your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed at the sudden connection, relaxing as his hand works behind you to hook you in. “Sorry for the delay,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, the very bottom of your chin, and your neck, twice, before returning to your lips. They part under his, and the kiss turns to much more than softness you’d shared on the steps outside the office. This is hot, and inviting, and searching for something as he leans his weight against you. He doesn’t push. You knew he wouldn’t. 

You hold his shirt as he kisses you. Things are so new between you that you aren’t always sure what he wants you to do, where he needs your hands, but he doesn’t complain. Doesn’t make it feel like a big deal. His hand roves from your back to your hand on his chest and guides it behind him. “Alright?” he asks between kisses, nose pressed to yours. 

“Mm,” you say. 

“Yeah? You sure?” 

“I’m fine, I’m– I’m great.” 

“You’re brilliant,” he says warmly, nudging your nose up with his to press your lips together loosely. Just loose, nothing kisses, your heart like a bruise deep in your chest as he draws you nearer. 

You decide to be lovely as he’d thought of you and hold him with both arms. Your fingers flirt with the edge of his shirt, fingertips finding a slip of bare skin. 

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper. 

You can’t see him, but you can hear how he takes it. “You– fucking hell. Fucking hell, you’re beautiful.” He tips your head back. You have the feeling he wants you to open your eyes, but you keep them closed, and eventually he leans in to kiss the soft spot under your jaw. 

You let out a sigh. Somehow, James’ kiss gets even gentler. 

He’s kissed down to the collar of your shirt when a clattering sound echoes down the hall, the weight of the front door hitting a radiator as two giggles follow. “Remus!” Sirius hisses, “you’ll take it off the wall!”

“Sorry!” Remus says. 

You and James spring apart so hard it makes the sofa squeak. 

“James?” Remus calls. 

“We’re in here!” James calls back. 

You widen your eyes. James is far less shocked, neatening your shirt and throwing a blanket from the back of the sofa over your legs. He shuffles across the seats and grabs the remote just in time to click play on the TV. The door opens, and James quickly straightens his glasses, the lenses smudged with skin. 

“Hello,” Remus says happily, Sirius poking his head in behind him. 

“Hi,” Sirius says, giving you both a far more suspicious look. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?” 

You know instantly that whatever you say will be better believed than James. “James bragged about having that new Quiet Place movie on the telly, and I knew he didn’t, so now we’re watching– what?” 

“Uh, antiques roadshow,” James says. 

You roll your eyes. “We’re watching antiques roadshow.” 

“Right,” Sirius says. 

“I thought you had the DVD?” Remus asks. 

“I did! I just don’t know where it is!” James cries. 

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Wanna get some dinner, then?” 

James deflates in relief, sending you a completely unsubtle smile. “You hungry, shorts?” 

You can’t believe you just let him kiss you. That you keep letting him. He’s never gonna be able to keep your secret from his friends. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

—

office frenemies au

[lovemebutleavemewild]

The term "barrack's bunny" is probably offensive but as a quick way of describing your taste in men, it kind of works.

You like soldiers. A specific type of soldier, though. Not the young recruits who are rowdy and uncouth and don't know how to act. Not the stern pot-bellied paper pushers or the career types who spend more time polishing medals and rubbing shoulders than they do on the field, either.

No, the soldiers you like have experience. In all the aspects that matter. They're few and far between but when you find a good one ...

The 141 are perfect examples. They're the reason you've stuck close to this particular base for the last few months. You've never actually seen them, of course, and you've only heard whispers about them, but if the rumours are true, they're back on base, which means you're in the nearest bar, scoping out the scene, waiting.

It's starting to look like a bust. You've had three drinks, turned down four men, and are just getting bored when a new prospect slides into the tight space at the bar next to you.

He catches your eye, looking away, then quickly back. You see him look you quickly up and down and smile.

"Hi," he says. You smile back.

"Kyle Garrick," he says, holding out a hand, and you smile wider. Oh yes, you think, the rumours were right.

Kyle is just offering to buy you a drink when you're jostled from behind. He reaches out to steady you and you find yourself pressed to his chest.

"Soap, you idiot," he chastises and you twist your head to see who he's talking to. Another impossibly huge man is grinning down at you, seemingly unapologetic.

"Hello," he says. "M'name's Johnny. Where did Gaz find you?"

Things move quickly after that. You like a flirt, a tease as much as the next girl, but you know what you came here for and you've already waited long enough.

The three of you end up in a dark corner of the bar, squeezed into one side of a booth, and when Kyle kisses you, you lean into him. He's all hard lips, pulling back to feel you chase him, just to dive back in, again and again, leaving you hungry, always, for more.

In contrast, Soap's kisses are wet, messy. He doesn't pull away from you, even when it means he ends up panting heavily right into your face. When the two lean into you together, it's dizzying. You pull back, needing a second to just breathe and they barely seem to notice, crashing into each other instead. They're rougher when it's just the two of them, nipping, fighting for dominance. And meanwhile, as though without thinking, their hands squeeze your soft thighs and stomach.

You gasp when Soap's hand slips up under your skirt, looking around automatically. No one is looking in your direction; the corner you're in is so dimly lit you don't think you could see the next table over, even if weren't empty.

When you look back, Johnny is staring at you, eyes hooded. He keeps eye contact as he slips his hand further up, brushing over your panties, smirking when you squirm. And then they're slipping under your panties, pressing in and you have to close your eyes.

You feel hot breath on your ear and hear Kyle's voice.

"Give us one here, doll, show us how good you can be, and we'll take you home to give you the rest."

His hand joins Johnny's, rubbing circles on your clit and your head falls back. They start kissing you again but you don't even have the mental energy to kiss them back. Your brain seems to have dribbled out of your ears onto the cracked vinyl. They kiss you anyway, until your face is slick with their spit.

And you give them your first orgasm of the night right there, shuddering against them. If you could care about such things, you'd be glad the music was loud so no one could hear your moans. When you can force your eyes open, you blink at Gaz. He smiles sweetly before taking Johnny's hand. You just have time to focus on the sheen of yourself on his digits before he's sucking them into his mouth.

"Ready to get out of here, love?" he asks and you nod, dazed, letting him pull you up. You're nearly limp against him and he supports you with an arm around your waist. Distantly, you hear Johnny chuckle. You instinctively push back when he presses against your back, tilting your head back to receive his mouth at your ear. He nips it teasingly and his whisper sends a full-body shudder through you.

"Oh, Price and Ghost are gonna love you."

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ prompt:  "Why are you so worked up?" "Because they wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like they wanted to eat you." From here.

❧ the act’s performers: kiyoomi sakusa x f!reader

❧ wc: 1.7k

❧ warnings: swearing, jealousy, kissing, insecurity (let me know if I missed stuff)

❧ a/n: just a little something lolol idk I hope ya'll like it!

"You're not my type."

"And you think you're mine?"

Sakusa Kiyoomi could not believe the conversation he was forced to participate in. A mixture of disgust and amusement contorted his features at the woman staring up at him with a devious glint in her irises. Over the last year, it was almost nonstop bickering between the two of you. Well, according to Atsumu it was flirting on your end and bickering on his friend's end.

To be honest, a study needed to be conducted on why your presence alone could drive the wing spiker to insanity. From the way you would push past his physical boundaries without hesitation to the siren-like expressions, you would toss his way during class. It stripped him of his rationality and delivered him straight to madness.

All he wanted was to focus on college and volleyball, and yet sometimes all he could focus on was you.

"If I'm not your type, why do you only bother me?" The black-haired male surveyed your face for a nonverbal answer to his question. However, as always, he was greeted with a flirtatious bat of your lashes rather than a clue as to what was going on in that head of yours.

"How are you so certain that I only bother you?" Bringing your index finger to your mouth, you lightly bit down on your nail with a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your answer evidently caught the male off guard, as there was a momentary crack in his usual nonchalant demeanour. "How arrogant of you to think you're the only one."

"If you have other toys, go bother them instead. I'm busy." Sakusa shifted his gaze away from you, with tension applying to his jawline. He had to bite back the urge to pout. Where was his mask again? Why did you have to catch him in a moment when he was shieldless?

"Really? You won't miss me, pretty boy?" The hand that was once near your mouth was now extended so that you could guide his attention back to you. To both of your surprise, he did not stop you immediately when your finger applied light force on his chin. Though once his dark eyes landed on yours, he was prompt in swatting your hand away.

"First, don't call me that. Second, why would I miss you?" The volleyball player's words were coated in venom, but he ignored the bitter taste. It was nothing in comparison to the emotion flooding his chest right now.

And the last thing he wanted to admit was that his heart was drowning in jealousy.

"Okay, pretty boy. Just remember... Be careful what you wish for." After dipping an eyelid into a wink, a harmonic laugh follows your words as you step away from the male.

Sakusa instantly regretted his choice of words, and yet all he could do was glare in response.

****

Silence and peace accompanied Sakusa for the following two weeks, along with bright warm spring days. His volleyball team even secured a win against their rival, one that had the hallways of the college buzzing in excitement. But the male could not find himself satisfied with his victory - not when someone was missing from the stands. A certain someone who attended his every game to shamelessly flirt and ward off the fangirls.

It was becoming progressively clearer just how much your absence impacted his daily life. Just how much he did not truly care for quiet days. And just how much he missed your mischievous mannerisms.

Atsumu practically snapped at his team-mate on day 13 - claiming that Sakusa was merely ruining his own chances with the girl he obviously liked. Sakusa cursed out the blonde-haired boy in response, but he secretly agreed with everything that was said.

But what was stopping him from seeking you out? Over the last year, you were the one who pursued him. Should the tables not turn anyway at some point? It was only fair that he chase after you now. Even if that meant going against his better judgment.

Who said emotions were supposed to make sense?

It was day 16 when Sakusa was finally successful in diminishing the distance between you two. Well, rather than being successful in his mission, it was pure luck that caused him to accidentally stumble onto your location. However, luck was truly a nasty creature, as the scene he had entered was one that had a storm brewing inside of the male's chest.

A sickening realization had suddenly plagued the male.

He hated the idea of you "bothering" someone else. Why the hell did he send you into the arms of another!?

"If I had known there were such pretty girls in Japan, I would have come here earlier." The blue and blonde-haired male towered over you with a smirk on his mouth. Based on his accent, he was a foreigner who likely transferred to the school recently.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty enough to move across the globe, Kaiser." A cheerful smile painted across your lips as you interlocked your fingers behind your back. It was more friendly than flirtatious, yet Sakusa felt rage burn in his palms.

When he made the comment about your other toys, he did not think you'd actually give him space. In the past, he had made all sorts of snarky remarks. How many times did he tell you to go away? He had lost count. But what mattered was that you never acted upon his harsh words.

What changed now? Were you fed up with him?

"I'd do a lot more than that for someone as pretty as you, y/n." This time the male named Kaiser lightly grabbed onto your chin, forcing your head to move skyward. And as he leaned in closer, his eyelids dropped just a smidge which even had someone like you blinking in slight astonishment.

But before you could register what was occurring - a new individual entered the stage. Warm fingers were wrapped around your wrist, and with one swift motion, you were pulled away from Kaiser. A familiar scent of laundry detergent tickled your nose. It didn't take you too long to realize whose chest you were currently pressed against.

"Kiyoomi?" His name was breathed out with a fascinated laugh as you peered up at him. Although, his consideration was not on you at all. No, he was engaged in a staring match with the foreign soccer player.

"Y/n. I didn't know you have no standards." The comment comes from Sakusa who refuses to release your wrist. A grimace moulds your features at his incorrect and disrespectful assumption.

"Oh-oh, what do we have here? You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend, y/n." Kaiser raised an eyebrow with a humourless chuckle vibrating in his chest.

"I don't have a boyfriend, that's why." Sakusa tensed up at your retort, which only brought laughter to flow past your lips. "But I do have a grumpy cat it seems." A quick glance was stolen of the male beside you who remained focused on what you realized he considered his love rival.

"But your heart isn't owned by the grumpy cat, now is it?" The soccer player discovered far too much entertainment in the situation. Sakusa was practically sending daggers in his direction, and yet it was all just simply amusing. Kaiser was not interested in you enough to willingly enter a fistfight. But he could not keep himself from teasing the unknown male. "I'm sure I can satisfy your needs much better than he can, my sweet y/n."

"We're done here." It's the latter comment that has the wing spiker suddenly dragging you down the hallway. However, right before leading you away, he released your wrist and instead tangled his fingers with yours. Butterflies sang a melody inside of your stomach as a number of curses were mumbled against the fabric of his mask, causing you to stifle back a titter.

"Why are you so worked up?" The inquiry is posed once Sakusa leads you into an empty classroom. The black-haired male only realized he was holding your hand when his feet stopped carrying him to his destination. A light blush could be seen peeking out from the top of his mask.

It was ridiculously adorable.

"Because he wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like he wanted to eat you." His words were huffed out as his fingers were sent to toy with the strings looped along his ears.

"Eat me? Oh, I'm sure he wanted to do much more." Since ending the physical contact, Sakusa remained a meters distance away from you. A calculated decision on his part, clearly. But you were prompt in destroying that distance with a few steps forward. "I thought you wanted me to play with my other toys, hm?"

The volleyball player elected to remain silent, instead his dark irises bore into yours. Even when you extended your hand to lightly remove his mask, he did not utter a word. Nor did he disturb your movements.

When he brought you here he was not thinking straight, he had no plan. He just wanted to separate you from that man.

"Kiyoomi, if I had known you were such a jealous boy, I would have used this to my advantage earlier." The admission was exhaled with a dramatic sigh, but the playful edge to your tone was difficult to miss. "If you want me, pretty boy, I think now is the time to confess. Unless, you want me to go back to -"

The soccer player's name was swallowed back down as Sakusa's lips suddenly crashed against yours. There was no way in hell he would ever allow you to say another man's name in a romantic context again. The pads of his fingers brushed over your cheeks so lightly you could have confused it for a breeze. The earlier feelings of jealousy melted away with each passing second, as Sakusa bathed in the thrill of finally giving in to his desires. And when you broke the close proximity to catch a breath of air, he was quick to bring your mouth back to his in an urgency you had never expected from the male.

Well, it was needless to say... Operation jealousy was a success.

[streamofcolors]

ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰.

Cregan Stark x Reader.

Summary: You become jealous when you see a serving girl attempt to seduce your husband.

Based on request: Hello love! I'd like to request a Cregan Stark x Reader piece where she sees him being touched on by some prostitutes at a feast, and she gets jealous. Smut or not, I'll leave it up to you.

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, mutual orgasm.

Author's note: This was the last request in my inbox, so please feel free to send a request. 🖤

You return to the feast after putting your son to bed, leaving him in the capable hands of your dedicated servants. Upon entering the hall, you are greeted by the lively melodies reverberating within the stone walls. Some guests are dancing, and everyone appears to be enjoying the refreshments provided.

Cregan is seated at the head of the Great Hall. His solemn expression softens slightly as he notices your return. He raises his mug of beer to his lips and watches as you navigate through the crowd.

“My lord, would you like me to refill your mug?” one of the serving girls approaches Cregan.

He glances up at the serving girl before returning his gaze to you. You are stuck in a conversation with a lord you have mentioned disliking. A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Cregan sets his mug down and pushes it toward the girl, not bothering to take his eyes off you.

The serving girl exaggeratedly bends over the table to refill Cregan’s mug, her provocative eyes fixed on him.

His smile fades from his face as he notices the girl’s exaggerated movements from the corner of his eye. He chooses to ignore her obvious attempts to seduce him, clearly uninterested. The smile that was there before reappears as he thinks to himself, as if the girl is even a sliver of the woman you are.

“Congratulations on your son’s second name day, my lord,” the serving girl makes another attempt to capture Cregan’s attention, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Cregan responds gruffly, his gaze briefly falling on the girl’s hand on his shoulder. Unfazed, he reaches for his now-refilled mug of beer and lifts it to his mouth, taking a sip from it. His gaze returns to you as he speaks in a composed tone. “You may take your hand off me, girl.”

Your eyes harden as you make your way through the crowd, watching the serving girl attempt to seduce Cregan from a distance.

Cregan catches your darkened gaze from across the room, noticing the hardness in your eyes. He raises an eyebrow in response, as if daring you to say something.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking my seat,” you say as you reach the table, a hint of irritation in your voice as you address the serving girl.

The serving girl turns her head in your direction, and her seductive demeanour immediately falters. Her hand falls from Cregan’s shoulder as she realizes she is in your way. “Of course, my Lady,” she says, her voice lacking any sort of challenge. She steps aside so you can sit in the empty chair next to Cregan.

Instead of taking your seat, you approach Cregan and sit on his lap.

Cregan’s lips twitch into an amused smile. His hand immediately finds its way to your hip, his fingers gently caressing your skin through the material of your dress. He leans back in his chair and brings his mug to his mouth, taking another sip.

He lowers the mug from his mouth before speaking, his voice deep and husky. “Feeling possessive, are we, Lady Stark?”

“I am merely claiming what is rightfully mine,” you murmur as you watch the serving girl scurry away.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound of it nearly lost in the noise of the feast. Cregan’s hand on your hip tightens its grip slightly. “Rightfully yours, indeed,” he agrees quietly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

-

The wait until all your guests had left was tedious, but here you were, dragging Cregan back to your chamber. He stays silent as you drag him through the dimly lit corridors. He does not question where you are taking him because he already knows.

With each step, his pulse quickens in anticipation, his mind growing more and more clouded with thoughts of you. He wants you, needs you, yearns for you. He needs to feel you.

“Out, all of you. You are dismissed for the night,” you order the servants in your chamber as you drag Cregan inside. The servants, who were tidying your chamber and preparing it for the night, drop their tasks and quickly exit the chamber, leaving the two of you alone.

You close the distance between yourself and Cregan, pinning him against the door. Your fingers fumble to undo him of his cloak.

Cregan’s eyes darken with a mixture of anticipation and desire as he watches your fingers fumble with the clasps of his cloak. As his cloak falls to the ground with a thud, your hands move to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips meet yours hungrily, the intensity of the kiss almost overwhelming. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer, wanting to feel the heat of your body against his own.

“Stupid girl, thinking she could seduce you,” you murmur against Cregan’s lips as you continue to undress him.

Cregan’s breath hitches as you speak, your words sending a shiver through his body. “She never stood a chance,” he agrees in a deep voice, his hands moving to the laces of your dress, loosening them with practiced fingers.

“You know I have no interest in other women,” he adds, a hint of amusement in his tone as he pushes your dress off your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your exposed shift.

You hum in response as you lift Cregan’s blue tunic over his head, your fingers hooking into his breeches and tugging him with you as you walk backward to the bed.

“Off,” you gesture to his breeches as you crawl onto the bed.

Cregan’s eyes darken at your command. He obeys without hesitation, unfastening the laces of his breeches and pushing them down along with his smallclothes. He follows you onto the bed with a sense of urgency, his body craving yours. He positions himself between your legs, his hands roaming over your thighs, pushing the bunched-up fabric of your shift even higher up.

Using all your strength, you manage to push Cregan onto his back. You move to straddle him, lifting your shift up over your head and tossing it to the side. The sight of you straddling him, bare and exposed, leaves Cregan breathless. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every curve, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips.

“Gods,” he groans, his fingers digging into your flesh, his voice strangled with desire.

You lean forward, hovering your face above Cregan’s. “You’re mine,” you murmur seductively. Your hardened nipples brushing against Cregan’s chest.

“I’m yours,” he agrees immediately, his voice rough with desire.

You sit back up and raise your hips, guiding Cregan’s hardened length towards your entrance. You gasp as you sink down on his length, your eyes fluttering shut at the familiar stretch.

Cregan’s head falls back against the furs, a guttural moan escaping his lips as you flutter around his length.

Your trembling hands rest on his muscular chest, stabilizing yourself as you begin to ride him at a slow pace.

Cregan’s heartbeat quickens beneath your hands. He watches you with a sense of awe and admiration, his eyes filled with longing. His hands are on your hips guiding your movements. He wants more, needs more.

You pick up your pace, your thrusting turning into desperate grinding, your face scrunching up with pleasure.

His hands tighten on your hips, and a low growl escapes from the back of his throat. He watches you intently, his eyes drinking in every expression you make. He craves to make you come undone. He plants his feet into the bed, thrusting up into you.

You slump forward, a whimper escaping your throat as Cregan thrusts up into you. Your head gently rests against the crook of his neck.

Cregan’s arms immediately wrap around you, holding you close against his chest. He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin, your body trembling against his.

“Oh, Cregan,” you gasp as your orgasm washes over you, your walls clenching around him.

The feeling of you clenching around him pushes Cregan over the edge. He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning lowly as he spills his seed inside of you.

You chuckle against Cregan’s neck, your breath coming out in shallow puffs. Your tired body slumps on top of him.

Cregan wraps his arms around you, holding you close. His fingers gently trace patterns along the curve of your back.

“I’m yours,” he whispers softly.

“You’re mine,” you repeat his words.

Cregan cranes his neck to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Only yours,” he confirms, holding you tighter against him.

[carmenberzattosgf]

s3 carmen i need to take you out to the alley to give you a freak nasty blowjob to make you calm down-💫

let’s talk about blowing Carmy to give him stress relief. Word count: 1613

I’m thinking about working at the bear as a server. You and Carmy have always had tension. Longing glances that went on a little bit too long. Lingering touches of his hand on your waist when he needs to get around you.

This night, Carmy is on fire during service. There’s practically steam coming out of his ears. He’s barking orders without a care, expecting to be listened to. Usually, he directs most of his anger towards the kitchen staff, but you land in his crosshairs.

“Why the fuck is it taking you so long inbetween plates? Are you taking the scenic view back to the kitchen or some shit? Stop wasting time and hurry the fuck up.”

“Chef. Chill,” you respond. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize how bad of an idea it was to say that.

“The only thing you should be saying is ‘Yes, chef’. Do you want to try that again?” You turn to face Sydney instead of Carmen, trying to keep your cool.

“Chef Syd. Can you hold down the fort for a second? I need to talk to Carmy really quick.”

Carmy interjects before Sydney can even reply. “The fuck? I’m doing my job here. Now, can I get—“

“Chef. It’s fine. Go cool off a bit,” Sydney replies, stepping up to the expo. Carmy sighs, running a hand in his hair, before storming off through the back door. You follow suit, catching the door before it slams.

Carmy leans against the back of the building. His fingers are in his hair, tugging at his roots in an attempt to dull his anger. Under his breath, he mutters a slew of curses and god knows what else. Somehow, you find the courage to stand in front of him, toe to toe.

“Carmen, you need to calm down. You can’t lash out on people like a toddler when you don’t get exactly your way.”

“I- I can’t fucking turn it off.” His voice is laced with venom. He looks directly into your eyes. That furious look still present in his features. “I need people to- to fucking listen to me, and f-fucking go faster.”

You can’t deny the tension brewing between you and Carmy in the dim alleyway. His breath fans against your cheek. It would take just a small lean in for your lips to press against his. That’s not what you do, though.

Instead, your hand moves, as if on its own accord, to just barely palm his groin. His eyes widen as he takes in a gasp of air. Pure shock falls on his features. “You need to let your stress out. Do you want a way to do that, Carm?” you ask.

“I w-what— what?” he stammers. His cheeks flush in an instant. You chuckle as you feel him hardening through his pants. You lean into him, but your lips miss his own, choosing to target the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth trails gently, chaste kisses from the corner of his mouth, down his jaw, and to his neck. You don’t spend time sucking on the skin. If a bruise appeared on his neck after this, everyone would know. Instead, you trail your tongue on his pulse point. His body shivers against you. “C’mon, Carmy. Do I need to spell it out for you?” You punctuate your sentence by applying pressure with your palm to his length. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the groan he tries to keep under his breath.

You drop to your knees in front of him, thankful for the thick fabric of your pants. You gaze up at his face with the most innocent look you can muster given the situation. Carmy can’t even comprehend the sight of you on your knees for him. The fear of someone seeing is the last thing on Carmen’s mind. “Are—fuck—are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Take my cock out.” Carmy’s voice commands just like he’s giving you orders in the kitchen.

“Yes, Chef,” you whisper. He tenses from your choice of words. Your fingers dip into the waist band of his slacks before pulling them down to his knees. His underwear falls down with them, leaving him bare and hard in front of you.

He’s huge, way bigger than you would have expected. The tip is already leaking precum. You can’t take your eyes off of his lower half. He hides a lot of muscle under his chef whites. The V-lines of his hips are deep and defined, guiding you right to his cock. Your eyes catch glimpse of a happy trail that extends under the fabric of his shirt.

“Like what you see?” His voice is low and gravely.

You don’t look up at him, not yet. Your hands slide underneath his shirt to tug up the fabric, letting you see the rest of his stomach. The happy trail runs up to his navel. Your finger tips trace the lines of his abs. You can’t resist the urge to press kisses to his stomach. Here, you don’t have to working about marks showing, so you suck and bite at his skin. Carmy’s hand briefly cups the back of your head, threading into your hair before letting go.

“You’re so pretty, Carm,” you admit with brutal honesty. It’s true. He’s built like a Greek god. For the first time, you’ve rendered Carmy speechless with just your words. The second time you render him speechless happens when your lips wrap around the tip of his cock. You moan as the salty taste hits your tongue. Your cheeks hollow inwards to suck lightly.

“F-fuck. Fuck—fuck.” You snap your eyes up to look at him. There’s sweat forming at his brow. His hands clench at his sides in a white knuckle grip. With his gaze on you, you lick a broad stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, making a show out of it. His dick twitches on your tongue.

You can’t stand not having Carmy’s hands on you, so you take one of his hands and place it on your cheek. Not waiting a second, you take his cock all the way into your mouth. Your nose reaches the trail of hair you noticed earlier.

“Holy shit—look at you,” Carmy murmurs. His tough hand cups your cheek, lazily rubbing his thumb on your skin. Without realizing it, Carmy’s hips sink a just a little bit deeper into your throat. It reaches the point of too much, making you gag. You don’t lift off of him, though. Tears well up in your eyes as you keep his dick deep inside your mouth.

“Is it too much? You’re gagging for it,” he spits out. He’s trying to keep his composure, but his voice is full of need. “Shit—babe. Can I— can I fuck your mouth? We’ve already—fuck— already been out here too long,” Carmy practically begs.

You lift off of his cock looking utterly debauched. Spit runs down your chin, and your lips are swollen red. “If it’ll help you calm down, you can do whatever you want with me, Carm. Use me.”

“Yeah? You want that? What a good girl for me.” Carmy grasps his length in his hand, guiding himself to your lips. Your mouth falls open letting his cock sink all the way into your throat. The grasp of his hands is different from before. This time, both of his hands are on your face, palm resting on your cheeks. The rest of his hand wraps around your head, holding you firmly.

Carmy is really efficient. His cock pounds into your throat with zero hesitation. It’s near animalistic the way he’s holding your head and using you. “S’good so fuckin’ good. Takin’ my cock so good, baby,” he mumbles, too lost in pleasure to care about the words leaving his lips. “Gonna—gonna cum down your throat. You’d like that wouldn’t you? To be my little cum slut?” A deep moan reverberates through your mouth at his words. He’s lost all filter.

It’s only a few more thrusts before Carmen spills into your mouth with a strained groan. Just as you’re able to swallow, Carmy pulls to up to your feet. His lips smash against yours. The kiss is fierce and all consuming. His tongue dips into your mouth, battling with your own. Carmy groans into your mouth when he tastes himself on your tongue.

Strings of spit unite your lips when he pulls back. There’s a new look in his eyes that you can’t quite describe. “A-are you—“ you have to clear your throat, still sore from his cock. “Are you feeling calmer now? D-did that help?” Your voice is completely shot and raspy.

“Fuck, baby. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest. Thank you for uh— for doing that. I was being an asshole,” he admits.

“You just needed someone to relieve some stress. I’m happy I could help you.”

“You’re coming home with me after service. Gotta take care of you since you took care of me.” Carmy leans in to give you a soft kiss. “And… you might wanna head straight to the bathroom to clean up a bit. Don’t need anyone else to see you like this. You’re too fucking pretty.”

Carmy is like a new man when he walks back into that kitchen. He’s more toned down, and careful about the yelling. Sydney thinks you must have been a therapist in a past life, because whatever you did managed to chill Carmy out.

It’s a week tops until someone in the kitchen finds out you two are fucking.

[cevansbrat0007]

Quickie

Summary: You get caught up in the moment while dropping off dinner to your favorite bounty hunter.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Pure Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Unprotected Sex,Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Semi-public Sex, Manhandling, Ass Grabbing, Ass Slapping, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

When you stopped by the precinct this evening, all you’d intended to do was drop off a home cooked meal to a certain bounty hunter. You had no idea what was in store for you the moment you’d walked back to the tiny corner office they'd set aside for him rocking the pink floral babydoll dress and jean jacket you’d dug out from the back of your closet.

If you had, then maybe you would’ve at least had the thought to stretch. Also, you probably would’ve worn different shoes. Perhaps you would’ve gone with a pair of flats instead of wedge heels.

And lastly, in favor of decorum, you would’ve left your man’s food up at the front with Deputy Milton where you, and it, were safe.   

“That’s it. Keep workin’ me, baby.” Ari rasps, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear as his fingers dig into your hips. “There’s a good girl.” Choking back a sob, you’re forced to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound of your cries.   

“Fuck, you feel so good. But if you want this dick, you’ve gotta be quiet.” 

Dear God, he was right. The last thing you needed was an audience. Especially not in the form of the entire police department. You were pretty sure that you’d die from embarrassment.

He whispers hungry kisses along the curve of your jaw while you continue to ride him, your internal muscles milking him for all he’s worth. Pure feminine satisfaction fills you when you hear him bite back his own groan. Emboldened by his response, you bear down, purposely clenching your heat around his throbbing cock.

“God, Beast! Fu–please!”

Pleasure mounts as your teeth graze the sensitive column of his throat, earning you a growl from your bounty hunter. You feel the sound, which rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest. It reverberates through you, all the way down to your toes.

Christ, it all felt so good. Enough to overwhelm your senses as you feel the coil tighten in your belly, threatening to snap with every moan. Every cry. Every measured stroke of your hips. It was almost too goddamn much. 

Wanting to catch your breath, you attempt to pull away. Which is all the invitation your man needs to capture your mouth with his own. A mere second goes by before his tongue teases its way past your lips. It’s a wild, unbridled claiming that leaves you with no doubt to whom you belong. 

He dutifully swallows each desperate cry. Every pathetic little mewl. He savors them with the knowledge that those carnal sounds were meant for him alone. 

“I know, little Bird.” Ari presses a fevered kiss against your damp brow once he finally lets you up for air. “I know.” He then wraps his brawny arms around your middle, pulling you flush against him. “I can feel it buildin’. Shit’s so good I’m about to burn up.”

Nodding, you throw an arm around his neck to pull him even closer. A sharp cry bursts from your throat, prompting him to slap a hand over your mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when your eyes are too busy rolling in the back of your head. 

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.”

“Please!” Your vision blurs as you try to focus on your breathing. A tear makes its way down your cheek as your muscles begin to burn, protesting their overuse – although it’s quickly chased away by your partner’s eager tongue.

That simple, yet surprisingly animalistic act is enough to make your pussy cream, drenching his dick with a fresh wave of your slick. But as heavenly as this all feels, you can’t quite help it when your movements begin to falter.  

“Better not be gettin’ tired on me, baby.” The quiet snarl rips through you, ratcheting your feelings of ecstasy up another notch. His big hands move to your ass, tightly gripping the tender flesh as he encourages you to keep going. 

“I can’t…” You whine, stretching out the word. Needing more, you find yourself arching your chest up at him. In your haste to get undressed, you’d only managed to get your bra half off, leaving one breast completely bare. “Please…”    

“Need your man to help you, darlin’?” His tone takes on a slightly mocking lilt. “Is that it?” Your world blurs when he adjusts the angle, repositioning your joined bodies so that your back is now resting on his desk. “Can’t do it by yourself anymore?”

“Beast….” Your head lolls to the side, a thin sheen of perspiration cloaking your skin as the bounty hunter begins thrusting in and out of your spasming cunt. “M’so close.” You keen, seeking relief. “S’right there. Right there. Right there…”   

“Shit!” Ari grits out, biting his lip. “You’re even tighter like this – gotta pussy like a fuckin’ vice, baby.” He nuzzles his bearded face between the valley of your heaving breasts. And then you’re treated to the wet scrape of his tongue along your heated flesh before rearing back to pull your taut nipple into his waiting mouth.  

White hot sparks dance through your veins as Ari commits to wrecking you with his thick cock. Your mouth opens in a silent scream while he fucks you, his hips pistoning in and out of you as if his very life depended upon it. 

Ecstasy threatens to overwhelm you once more as your nails claw at his back, which only spurs him to go deeper, ensuring that you’d feel him for days. Your Beast didn’t give a shit about you leaving marks on his skin. 

He was the type of man who wore them with pride.

Ari hitches your leg around his waist, making you cry out. You’re rewarded with a sharp slap to your ass as a reminder to be quiet. “Gonna have to shut that pretty mouth, darlin’.” He reaches into his pocket to grab your previously discarded panties before shoving them into your mouth. “You brought this on yourself.” He hisses. “Walkin’ in here wearin’ in that dress.” 

In this position, it’s like you can feel every ridge, every vein of his fat dick as he plunders your passion-swollen folds. Your heel digs into his back when you feel that fiery coil in your belly tighten and snap, sending you careening over the edge and into bliss. 

You try to scream, but it’s hard with a mouth full of cotton. A fact for which you are eternally grateful. Wanting Ari to tumble with you, you clench your muscles over and over until you feel him unable to hold back. 

“FUCK!” He roars, his big body jerking as the force of his orgasm washes over him.   

Belatedly, you wish either one of you had thought to bother with a condom. But you push the thought away as quickly as it comes. Right now you felt too good to even consider wallowing in regret. Which meant that today’s neglect would just have to be tomorrow’s problem.     

For a few moments, the two of you are content to simply exist as you are. You stay joined until your respective breathing evens out. Smiling, you press a soft kiss to your man’s shoulder, prompting him to stand up and take you with him.

It’s difficult, but you manage to suppress a whimper when Ari removes himself from your precious heat. “Uh, thanks for bringing me dinner, baby.” He says, attempting to catch his breath as he helps you fix your dress before zipping up his jeans.     

“Never had someone get so excited over chicken enchiladas.” You try, and fail, to stifle your giggle.

“Well, what did you expect when you told me you made the guacamole from scratch?” He waggles his brows before dropping a swift kiss on your upturned lips. 

“I dunno.” You shrug, gripping the front of his shirt to drag him back down for yet another smooch. Of course, Ari is more than happy to oblige. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Nah.” Your bounty hunter grins, toying at a stray curl with his finger. “Was Milton still listening to Taylor Swift when you walked in?”

“Yeah. He said something about being on an easter egg hunt. Apparently he has to connect all the dots before her new album, The Tortured Poets Department, drops.”

“Good. Then he didn’t hear shit.” 

Needing to rehydrate, you reach for his water before screwing off the cap and taking a sip. “Am I going to your place or mine tonight?” You manage to ask in between gulps. 

“Mine.” He grunts, nuzzling your nose with his. “I’ll see you in a few hours. We sleepin’ in tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You playfully hedge. Tomorrow was typically your late day anyway, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well, consider it my goal to get home early enough to convince you.” Ari helps you stand up before moving to fix the skirt of your dress. “I’m gonna walk you out now. Go straight to my place and lock up.” He tucks another stray curl behind your ear.

“Okay.” You breathe, wishing you could bring him with you.     

“Good. And no matter how much I beg, don’t let me near that sweet pussy before you leave the parking lot.”

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

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[hoshifighting]

i offer a thought- enemies to lovers hao, hes kinda cocky/pretentious but mc puts him in his place (sub hao dom reader :33)

putting enemy!minghao in his place

WARNINGS: smut, sub!minghao, dom!reader, handjob, mentions of blowjob, a bet ab reader not making him cum?

“you look way too cocky for someone who’s about to lose.” your voice dripped with confidence, and minghao’s eyes narrowed at you, his signature smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“please,” he drawled, leaning back on his elbows, his shirt already discarded somewhere on the floor. “you really think you’re gonna win? don’t flatter yourself.”

you rolled your eyes, climbing over him and settling yourself between his thighs. minghao always had this way of acting like he was untouchable, like nothing could faze him, but you could already see the cracks forming. his cock twitched when your nails dragged along his inner thighs, and he bit the inside of his cheek, pretending it didn’t affect him. “keep talking,” you teased, wrapping your hand around his length, the weight of him heavy and hot in your palm. “let’s see how long that confidence lasts.”

his jaw clenched, his hips jerking slightly as you gave him a slow, teasing stroke. “it’s gonna take more than that,” he shot back, his voice strained.

“oh, i know,” you said, smirking as you leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock. “but that’s the fun part, isn’t it?”

his eyes darkened, his cocky mask starting to waver, and you couldn’t help but feel a overflow of pride. you loved putting minghao in his place, loved wiping that smug look off his face, and this was no different.

your tongue darted out, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, and minghao let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into the sheets. “um—fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his head falling back against the pillows.

“what was that?” you asked, your voice dripping with faux softness. “i couldn’t hear you over all that pride you had earlier.”

his eyes snapped back to you, and you could see the frustration building in them. his hips bucked up, desperate for more, and you pressed him back down with your other hand, smirking at the way his abs tensed under your touch. “patience, hao, or did you forget the bet already?”

“as if,” he said through gritted teeth, his cock twitching in your hand.

you leaned in, your breath hot against his skin as you whispered, “you’re gonna lose, minghao.”

“keep dreaming,” he shot back, but his voice was shaky, and you knew he was closer than he wanted to admit.

you picked up the pace, your strokes becoming faster and more purposeful, and minghao’s breathing grew ragged, his cock leaking pre-cum that made your hand glide even smoother.

“fuck, fuck—” he gasped, his head pressing back into the pillow as his thighs trembled.

“oh, what’s wrong?” you teased, your voice sound like pure fake concern. “can’t handle it?”

“shut up,” he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned bloodless.

you grinned, leaning down like you were going to take him in your mouth, and his whole body tensed in expectancy. but instead, you pulled back at the last second, your hand working him faster, your thumb teasing his slit.

“you’re such a fucking tease,” he hissed, his hips bucking up despite himself.

“and you’re such a sore loser,” you shot back, your eyes locking with his as you watched him unravel beneath you.

his breathing hitched, his whole body going rigid as his orgasm hit him, his cock twitching in your hand as he came all over his stomach, his cum painting his abs in messy, sticky streaks.

“fuck,” he gasped, his head falling back against the pillow, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

you smirked, sitting back to admire your handiwork. “looks like i win,” you said, your tone smug. “you’re pathetic,” you shot back. “but at least you’re pretty when you lose.”

his cheeks flushed, and he looked away, grumbling under his breath. but you could see the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and you knew he wasn’t as mad as he pretended to be. minghao might hate losing, but he hated losing to you just a little bit less.

[pepi1989]

Behind the Curtains - Marcello Hernandez

The buzz of excitement at Saturday Night Live was in full swing, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Marcello go through his sketches backstage. He was always so focused, rehearsing his lines with that signature humor of his that made you fall for him in the first place. He was hilarious, of course, but there was something about watching him get serious for a second, totally wrapped up in his craft, that drove you wild.

You were tucked away in a small corner behind the stage, near the curtains that separated the backstage chaos from the magic that happened in front of the cameras. You knew it was a risk being here, but the adrenaline of the night made everything feel heightened. The hustle, the chatter, the energy, it all swirled around you, but your eyes were locked on Marcello.

He caught your gaze for a second. A sly smile crept onto his face, and he gave you a playful wink before turning his attention back to his script. But then, without a word, he tossed his script to one of the stagehands and made his way toward you. Your heart raced as he approached, that mischievous glint in his eye growing stronger with each step.

Without warning, Marcello grabbed your hand and pulled you behind the curtain, into a small, dimly lit space where no one could see.

“You know you’re trouble, right?” he whispered, his lips hovering just inches from yours, teasing you.

You smirked, feeling your breath catch. “You started it,” you shot back, feeling the pull between you two grow stronger with every second.

He didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, Marcello leaned in, his lips crashing against yours, soft but hungry. The moment his mouth met yours, it was like everything else faded away, the noise of the crew, the pressure of the live show, it all disappeared. All that mattered was him, and the way his hands gently cradled your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

Your back pressed against the wall as his kisses deepened, his breath warm and fast against your skin. You could feel the passion behind every kiss, a mix of playfulness and intensity that made your head spin. He kissed you like he’d been waiting all night for this, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer, as though he couldn’t get enough.

There was a moment where you broke apart just long enough to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours. Marcello’s lips were slightly swollen, and the way his eyes locked onto yours, full of warmth and a hint of amusement, made your stomach flutter.

“You’re so distracting,” he whispered with a grin, though his hands stayed firmly on your waist, clearly not wanting to let go just yet.

You let out a small laugh, your fingers playing with the hem of his jacket. “I’m not the one who pulled you back here.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours again, teasing. “I needed my good luck kiss before the show.”

“Oh, this is for good luck, huh?” you teased, leaning in for another kiss, softer this time, but just as sweet. His arms tightened around you, keeping you close as if time didn’t exist and there wasn’t a live audience waiting just beyond the curtain.

For a few more moments, it was just the two of you, hidden away from the world, your kisses growing slower but just as meaningful. The rush of the night, the pressure of his performance, all of it melted away in this small, stolen moment.

Finally, he pulled back, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his smile soft and full of affection. “I should probably get back,” he whispered, though he made no move to leave.

“Yeah,” you replied, even though you both knew neither of you wanted this to end just yet.

One last kiss, tender and lingering, before Marcello finally pulled away, giving you that heart-melting grin of his. “Meet me after the show?”

“Only if you kill it out there,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“I always do,” he said with a wink, before slipping back into the chaos of the SNL set, leaving you behind the curtain with a smile on your lips and the lingering taste of his kiss.

[marypaol]

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Slowly throughout your years of Hogwarts, and if the other person looks at the same time, you see your soulmate’s image in the mirror.

Warnings: Mention of Dementors? And kissing- that’s all??

Note: Wrote a soulmate one for Draco, now it’s Harry’s turn!

Masterlist

Request Requirements

[Story ends at Fifth Year]

First Year (Age: 11)

-

“This is stupid, Ron.” Harry found himself muttering, staring at his untidy hair in the mirror. His reflection seemed to be mocking the boy, each second making him want to look away.

“No it’s not.” Ron insisted, staring at his bright red hair, freckles and all. He looked just like the rest of his family: flame-like hair and freckles scattering his cheeks.

“It kinda is, especially since we’ve been looking at ourselves for 10 minutes. I think I look okay, but I swear I saw my nose change form and I don’t know what it actually looks like anymore.”

Ron finally tore his eyes off the mirror, turning towards Harry. He titled his head, scanning his friend for a split second. He shrugged. “Looks like your nose to me. Not that I stare at your nose when I talk to you.”

“You’re doing it right now.” Harry replied instantly, unable to stop the grin pulling at his lips.

“Shove off, will ya? You asked.” Ron answered. Harry laughed.

Ron ended the daily mirror session with crossed arms, a grumble forming on his mouth as he sat on his bed in a dramatic way. “Never gonna see her.” He muttered.

Harry shrugged, and, with one last hopeful look in the mirror, joined Ron on his bed, legs dangling off it.

“Sure it’s fine- we just have to look at the same time.”

Ron scoffed at Harry’s attempt at assurance. “Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen. You’d really think girls stare at themselves in the mirror all day.”

Harry once again shrugged, not really educated on the behavior of girls. When he saw a pretty one he’d stare for a while and go pink in the ears, but look away before she could notice.

“I couldn’t know, Ron.”

“Whatever. Come on, we have to go see what Hermonie’s up to. Reading a a ten million paged book I ‘spect.”

Second Year (Age: 12)

-

“I think I look about normal now, how about you?”

Harry was looking at himself in the mirror, watching the last of the transformation from one of Draco’s disgusting friends back to his normal self. Ron’s ear was still a little big but they both watched it slowly shrink.

“‘Bout back to normal. That was weird.”

Harry couldn’t help but agree, but he also couldn’t help but look at his normal face for a bit longer than usual, trying to catch a glance at her.

“Lookin’ for her again?” Ron figured, raising a brow as he looked at Harry from the corner of his eye, now looking at the mirror too.

“Yeah… but it’s no use.” Harry decided, looking away. Ron went up to the stall Hermione was in, and let’s just say what was happening definitely distracted Harry from the mirror.

Third Year (Age: 13)

-

“We’ll bring you lots of sweets, Harry.” Hermione promised, looking pitiful at the boy while her and Ron got ready to head to Hogsmeade. Ron nodded, eager to leave but still look like he felt bad.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Loads.”

Harry bid them goodbye and started to wander around the castle, the Marurders map in his hands as he looked at where everyone was. The dots moved frantically as people made their way about, each labeled with a name so Harry could see everyone on the grounds.

He went to his dormitory first, setting the map down temporarily before glancing at the mirror recklessly. He knew she was probably at Hogsmeade right now, giggling with friends as they shopped for candy after candy so looking at a mirror was the last thing on her mind. He wondered what she looked like, and the more he stared at himself instead of her the more he wanted to know.

“Come on,” he muttered, watching his lips move in the reflection. “Just look in the mirror.”

Oh but she was. Just never at the same time as he.

Forth Year (Age: 14)

-

“Harry Potter.”

Harry wanted the ground to swallow him. Every pair of eyes were on him, his cheeks turning a soft red. Hermione shoving him brought him out of his trance, encouraging him to go up to Dumbledore.

He stood up in wobbly legs, making his way to the Headmaster. The man handed him the piece of paper that had “Harry Potter” written on it, and gestured Harry to go to the back room with the rest of the champions.

The boy did so, meeting Cedric, Fleur, and Krum’s confused gazes, their eyebrows furrowed.

He stood there hopelessly, watching as people around him decided what they should do.

The dread news of having to compete was high, so high that he didn’t notice the mirror on the other side of the room. If he looked into it, for just a glance of time, he would’ve noticed sparkling eyes and bit lips, longing for a glimpse of him.

-

“Good luck, Harry.”

Harry turned around, the sweat on his hand almost causing his wand to slip out onto the ground. The girl stood in front of him, twiddling with her fingers but she still had a kind hopeful smile on her lips.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back even though he didn’t know her.

“I hope you do well.” She added. Harry’s smile stayed the same, constant and genuine. “Thanks,” he replied. “I’m gonna need all the luck I can get.”

She smiled a little wider, making straight eye contact for the first time in their conversation, since she was too nervous before so she avoided his gaze. His bright green eyes connected with her soft ones, and Harry didn’t fail to notice the gentle flush that spread on her cheeks. What he did fail to notice was that her eyes would be vaguely familiar if he just looked in the mirror .

Fifth Year (Age: 15)

-

“Okay, everybody. Today we’re gonna learn about the Patronus Charm, which fights off a Dementor. In order to cast it, you have to think of a happy memory. Very powerful and strong. Think of the happiest moment in your life, and keep it clear in your mind.” Harry instructed, watching everyone wave their wands, happy moments in time flooding their thoughts.

The girl, far in the back, thought back to when she met Harry’s eyes, longing for the reflection of herself in them, hoping they’d be meant to be. It was too bright outside that day to tell, but the moment burned in her mind every day since then, the beauty green in his eyes taking the time to look at her, the moment she felt special.

The picture of him alone and his bright eyes was pictured in her mind, just like every day, but clearer for this moment.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A mighty clever fox whispered out of her wand tip, legs taking a stretch as it ran around her, causing a soft giggle to escape her lips.

“Fantastic!”

His voice rang in her ears, and she looked at him, the blurry whip of the silver fox being ignored as she scanned the room for the acknowledgement. Her shoulders sank a little when she found out he was talking to Neville instead, eyes leaving him and landing back on her fox who was still running in circles around her.

-

“Thanks for helping me clean.” Hermione told Harry, some things around them knocked over after the practice of the Accio Charm, a charm casted to bring a desired object to the wand owners hand.

“Of course.” Harry responded, watching Hermione leave as she soon said she had to use the restroom.

“Have you seen her yet?”

Harry flinched at the second voice, turning to see the girl who wished him luck before the First Task, staring hopelessly in the mirror.

He walked over to her, watching her eyes scan the mirror, noticing how she was biting her lip. Her eyes were sparkling despite the emotion that seemed to be crowding them.

“Nope; been trying since First Year, in fact.”

Harry looked into the mirror at the exact moment she turned away and looked at him in disbelief. “Really? First Year? I thought I was the only one.”

Harry chuckled, glancing at her face.“Well I didn’t know about it until my friend Ron told me.”

It was then it was silent, Harry not seeming to be able to look away from her eyes. She then smiled tightly, looking back at the mirror. He followed suit, looking at the same reflective surface as her, behind her shoulder.

He then saw no one but himself despite her looking too, then her face clear next to him, every detail but she seemed clear as a ghost, present but not. The boy blinked, making sure he wasn’t just seeing things, and he wasn’t. She was there, and he was there too in her vision because they both gasped at the same time, soft and surprising.

She looked at him, and he at her.

“All this time…”

“We’ve already knew each other…” he finished.

“That’s crazy.” She muttered, this time looking at him instead of the mirror.

He cleared his throat but didn’t make an effort to look away nonetheless. “So, did you accomplish the Accio Charm?”

“Yeah…” she muttered, more like whispered, her eyes moving down to his lips but looked back up to his eyes, her own swirling with something but Harry couldn’t tell what it was.

“Good…” Harry whispered back, taking a step closer.

“Did the Patronus Charm as well.” She added for conversation, since in this moment she couldn’t stand the silence. Harry nodded in acknowledgment, a sign to let her know he heard her, but they both knew he was half listening, his gaze on her mouth as well.

“Why’d you ask?” She found herself asking, not having the courage to lean in first, though if she could make any wish in the world at the moment it would be for the courage to do so.

“Just wondering…..” Harry muttered, breaking the space between them, soft lips touching hers. Her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his lips and face against hers surrounding her being and thoughts. His lips were smooth and soft, like pillows that she was laying on.

He broke apart first though, but only to turn his head to get a better angle, leaning in again as they found a soft gentle rhythm.

She dropped her wand, the clatter startling neither of them as her hands went up to his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, fingers diving into his hair, a soft sigh escaping him at the sensation.

They came apart for air, their lips still brushing against each other as they longed for the long lasting contact. She licked her lips, her tongue accidentally touching his briefly, another soft sigh coming out of his mouth.

This moment didn’t feel real to her, someone so special didn’t deserve her, but he was there and that was his choice; she could hardly believe it.

“We should go to the Common Room…”

Harry muttered against her mouth.

“Yeah… we should…” she replied, but neither of them made an effort to move away from each other, in fact their lips connected again, moving in softer movements than before, but the strong feeling in her chest was all the same.

[jilixthinker]

sweet taster

=͟͟͞♡ minho × fem!reader

word count: 1.6K

content warning: smut, established relationship, sub!minho, cock play, kinda chubby (but not really) minho, a little bit of feederism if you squint, it's all very loving and sweet

a/c: i feel things about minho's imaginary soft tummy, that's it.

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"That was definitively too much."

Your home smells like savory and sweet, the nice scent lingering in your living room like a warm blanket, and Minho groans in delight as he plops on the couch with his eyes closed, stress from the work beginning to melt away. He loves when he comes home to the smell of one of your cooking, it makes him feel spoiled and pampered.

The portion of bibimbap was more than generous, but what truly tested his stomach capacity were the three big slices of apple pie he gobbled down while you watched him with adoring eyes, fingers softly caressing his plush tighs.

Minho has a sweet tooth and you love cooking and baking for him, that is always been your love language. In addition to that, in the last year of your relationship you started to experiment in the kitchen with lots of different baking recipies, and your loving boyfriend has been your official taster since that.

You cook, he eats, and you look fondly at him while he savors your baked goods, making a series of cute tiny sounds of pleasure that leaves you cooing and pinching at his soft cheeks. That is how you would describe happiness.

"Are you full?" you ask, sitting next to him and immediately nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck.

Minho smiles and his arm circles your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. You nose at his sweater and he smells like candy, smells sweet and intrinsecally like home and Minho. “So full,” he chuckles, placing a wet kiss on the top of your head.

"I guess you don't have space for one last treat then..." you smile against his skin as your hand drops to his belly. It feels tensed and a little swollen because of all the food he ate, and you start to massage it slowly.

"Treat?" Minho's eyes get all round and you hear him sniffing at the air in search of a distinct odor that will make him understand what are you referring to.

"I tried baking some cream eclairs." you smile at him, pinching the soft pudge below his belly button between your thumb and pointer. It's so soft that you wanna eat him whole.

"Well, I guess I can make some space, then".

You sit up again just in time to catch a glimpse of Minho's tongue lapping at the corner of his mouth, pre-savoring the dessert, and you feel a familar warmth spreading through your body. He is just too cute, too precious, too sweet to be yours.

"Let me get it for you. Wanna feed you." You smile as you stand up and head to the kitchen, the platter of creamy sweets ready in the oven.

When you come back, Minho is waiting for you with big pleading eyes, eager to taste the product of your baking. You place the plate on a cushion next to him, but instead of sitting down on the couch, you find your place on his lap, straddling his soft yet muscular thighs.

"Open wide." you say, taking one eclair in your hand and bringing it to Minho's mouth. You tap him under his chin and his mouth falls open easily.

Keeping eye contact, Minho leans forward to take a big bite, chewing slowly to let the flavor really envelop his senses. The lemon cream is sweet and warm, and it melts in his mouth.

You stare at him, pushing the eclair back to his lips when Minho is done chewing, inviting him to take another bite. With a loud gulp, Minho opens up again, and his tongue swirls against your thumb.

"How does it taste?" you ask while you brush a few crumbs from his lips.

Minho swallows the last bit of the eclair and the tip of his tongue laps at his plump lips once again. "Tastes amazing." he puffs out, his breath smells exactly like the cream.

"Want another?" you ask, taking the second one on your hand without even waiting for his answer.

"I am very full, baby." he mumbles, arm falling down to rest on the top of his stretched tummy. "I don't know if I can fit another one. But they taste like heaven."

"Just one more." you murmur as you leave a small peck on the corner of Minho's mouth, licking a bit of sugar away. "You look so cute when you eat. Please, just one more."

Minho sighs, his tummy is stretched and slighly uncomfortable, but saliva begins to pool inside his mouth as a pavlovian response to the thought of the sweet taste. "Just one more." he conceeds.

You hum and bring the pastry in front of his mouth. Minho diligently parts his lips once again and accepts the eclair. Crumbs are all over his shirt and pants, and there are cream smudges all around his pretty red mouth, even stuck between his teeth.

"So gorgeous for me." you whisper as your hips buck involuntarily against Minho's groin. And then you notice that you are not the only one enjoying this.

"You're hard, uh?" you ask with a chuckle, lowering your hand to cup him through his sweats and squeezing him lightly. Minho hisses and you rub his protruding stomach, feeling the soft skin under the fabric.

Minho finishes swallowing and breathes a sigh of relief as he hears you lowering the band of his sweats. “Yeah. It was sweet,” he huffs. "You are sweet. Got me all hard."

You take the opportunity to remove his pants completely to gain easy access to fondle him through his briefs in the process. Minho's breath is is soft and tender, and he smells amazing, all sugary and pretty for you.

"Wanna touch you. Can I, baby?" you ask, finding a comfortable position on the floor, between his parted legs.

The room is warm, but Minho's legs are tensed and his thin hair are fluffy. You caress them and massage the muscles underneath, and you see his fattened cock twitching against his groin. You see a few pearls of precum glistening on the chubby tip, and you wonder if his release would taste like cream if you fed him enough sweets. The thought is enough to rub your legs together, your panties are already sticking to your folds. But this is for Minho, you think.

"You can do anything you want to me." he murmurs, eyes almost closing and head resting on the cushions behind him.

You smile and you scoot forward to wrap one hand around his cock, squeezing it. His swollen cock immediately chubs up even more and wets the fabric of the sweatshirt. The cockhead looks all sensitive, and you tentatively circle the palm of your other hand around it, coaxing a sweet moan out of Minho's lips.

"My sweet, sweet boy." you coo, starting a lazy rhythm of stroking and circling, stopping just to stimulate his spongy head every once in a while. "You are so sweet that I wanna eat you up."

Minho's chuckles breathily and lets out a soft sob as his thighs begin to shake.

"Am I your dessert?" he asks, looking down at you with big eyes and still a few crumbs of eclair on the corner of his mouth. He mindlessly licks them off.

"You so are, pretty. You are my candy, my cake, my chocolate milk." you answer, sliding your thumb against his slit and making him whine slowly. "And I really need to eat you. I am serious."

You lower your head past his leaky cock to brush your cheek against the soft pudge under Minho's belly button. And then you bite him.

The tender flesh is warm and squishy, and the taste of Minho's skin, together with the cream scent still lingering in the air makes you moan against him.

"F-fuck, baby." he mutters, and you feel his cock throbbing in your fist.

With the tip of your tongue you lick at the velvety scar across his lower stomach and then you twirl it inside of his belly button, mimicking the way he usually fucks himself into you. He whines at the movement and his body twitches again.

"Love you." you whisper, keeping your grip steady on him. "Love how soft you get for me. How sweet. Love when you eat well and you look like this. You are so delicious, Mimo."

You keep biting softly at the fluffy fat of his pudge, savoring its taste and jerking him slowly, letting the schlick sound of his wet cock resonate through the room. Minho is pliant under your touch and his eyes are glassy.

"Uhm – I am. I-I am cumming, baby. Sorry." he moans when your finger dips a little into his slit.

"Don't be sorry, honey. You wanna cum?" you ask with a loving tone while your hand slides smoothly on his aching muscle. "Wanna cream on me like the sweet pastry you are? You can, pretty baby. Let it all go for me."

And Minho obeys, as he always does. With one last pump he begins to shoot thick ropes of creamy cum all over your hand and his round belly, covering his pale skin with glossy spurts that accumulate on the curve just above his ribcage.

When he is done, you lap at some of his release and it actually tastes sweet. It could be your imagination or just the fact that you are aroused, but you swear you can taste some of the cream on his orgasm.

"Wow." he puffs, hand covering his eyes in a shy attempt to hide himself. "That was... something."

You chuckle and kiss his tummy one last time before looking up to his face. "Then you will not be surprised when I'll tell you I baked more, right?"

Minho's face blushes to an adorable shade of pink. "Maybe... m-maybe I can eat one more".

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[cheynovak]

Soft Touch

Jensen Ackles x Y/N f/reader

Summary: Jensen and Y/N are secretly dating, when Y/N sees Jensen having a rough interview she finds a way to calm him down, right on the spot.

English isn't my first language.

Did not proof read, mistakes are possible

Please do not copy my work. likes/sharing/comments are appreciated

The studio was buzzing, the usual organized chaos of production day filling the air. Jensen, the charismatic star of Supernatural, was gearing up for yet another interview, his last one had a difficult and not to please interviewer, this time it was all about the upcoming season and 'Dean's love life' Dean was more than just a pretty face to the show, Jensen wanted to clarify that, but the interviewer didn't seem to want to hear it.

As he sat in front of the set, adjusting his shirt and chatting with the reporter, Y/N watched him from the sidelines.

She was supposed to be packing up her makeup and hairstyling kit for the day, but her attention was locked on Jensen. His posture was just a bit too stiff, his hand running through his hair—a telltale sign of nerves.

"He's overthinking again," Y/N murmured to herself.

Grabbing her comb and a small bottle of texturizing spray, she made her way over, slipping through the crew with practiced ease. She caught the tail end of Jensen laughing at a question, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Excuse me for just a second,” she said politely, flashing the reporter an apologetic smile. Jensen turned his head at her voice, his green eyes softening instantly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a mixture of relief and surprise.

Without a word, Y/N stepped close, reaching up to fix his slightly mussed hair. She knew her touch would ground him. As her fingers slid through his locks, gently brushing and smoothing, she let her nails lightly graze his scalp.

Jensen’s reaction was immediate. His shoulders relaxed, his tension melting under her gentle ministrations. He let out a soft breath, trying to stay professional, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a small, private smile.

“Better?” she whispered, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

“Much,” Jensen murmured back, tilting his head ever so slightly toward her touch.

Her hands lingered for a moment longer before she stepped back, giving him an encouraging smile. “Knock 'em dead.”

Jensen nodded, his confidence visibly restored. As Y/N walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder, catching the way his gaze followed her.

Later that evening, Jensen came home to the soft hum of the TV. The smell of lavender and something sweet lingered in the air, the kind of comforting scent he associated with her.

Y/N was curled up on the couch under a thick, cozy blanket, her legs tucked up beneath her. A mug sat on the coffee table, half-forgotten as she watched a rom-com unfold on the screen.

Jensen shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and walked toward her.

“Rough day?” Y/N asked, not looking away from the screen but patting the space beside her.

Instead of sitting, Jensen sank to his knees by the couch, leaning his head against her thighs. Y/N immediately shifted, lifting the blanket to cover him as he sprawled against her lap.

“Rough interviews,” Jensen muttered, his voice muffled against her leg.

Her fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, combing through it softly. She knew just how to soothe him, her nails gently scratching his scalp in that way he loved. This time, Jensen didn’t fight it. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a long, contented sigh.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth.

Y/N smiled down at him, her heart swelling. “I think I have an idea.”

Jensen reached up blindly, his fingers finding her thigh and giving a gentle squeeze. "I love you," he said, his words quiet but filled with conviction.

“I love you too,” she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

As the movie played on, Jensen relaxed completely in her lap, feeling safe, loved, and utterly at home.

--

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