#I don’t care if you think ‘oh they just make a lot of noise they’re not dangerous’ they are distressing for me and my dog

[orangedogsquad]

Little boy in a big field

[misstycloud]

[Yandere.Rich man x ballerina reader]

(I don’t actually know much about ballet so forgive me if things are incorrect!)

—————

Rich. Yandere who was pestered by his friend and his wife to join them at the opera house and enjoy a performance. The couple had asked him numerous times before but he’d always declined. He was a workaholic and didn’t have any other commitments, so there was no need to break his routine. Although he would never admit it to anyone- he barely does to himself- he often find himself imagining a different life; one where he had a wife to welcome him home every evening. Perhaps a few children too. There was no sound besides himself and the staff in his home, it would be so very nice to hear the noise of running feet and happy chatter echo through the empty halls.

Rich. Yandere who is lonely above all else. His family is dead and he has next to no friends- the only one he has is married and devote all his time to keep him company. He knows that he doesn’t have the best track-record of being the kindest person in the world, and he might not be the friendliest or the most out-going, still, doesn’t he deserve some love too?

Rich. Yandere who eventually give into his friends demand and goes with them to the opera. As they took their seats- the expensive and best ones, of course- his friends wife babble on about her favourite dancer. They were regulars there and had seen many performances. He simply sighed and leaned back into his seat, waiting for the show to begin. He could only hope that it’ll be somewhat enjoyable since he doesn’t like wasting his time.

Rich. Yandere who was prepared for it to be a dreadful 3 hours, rubbing his eyes and suffering from lack of blood-flow in his legs. Oh how wrong he was. Instantly his gaze zoomed into you as soon as you stepped forward from behind the curtain. You were so beautiful and you moved your body gracefully to the music. It was magical. While he knew close to nothing about ballet, he knew that the point of it were for the women to look like they’re floating, and it’s exactly what you were doing.

Rich. Yandere who is instantly enamoured with you. As someone who’s never felt love this was all a brand new experience for him. He asked his friend and his wife if they knew who you were, since they frequent the opera so much. And turns out the wife did know who you were; you were her favourite after all. Rich. Yandere was never close with her or particularly liked her even, but he had to give it to her: she has excellent taste in performers.

Rich. Yandere who starts looking up information regarding you. It’s be your name, age, background, family, where you went to school and where you live. Everything. He also begins donating a lot of money to the opera house. In a short amount of time he’s become their nr.1 funder. The managers and owners are ecstatic at the news! They ask why he’s so generous and he simply answers that he loves culture and thinks it’s important it doesn’t disappear. Then, they wonder if there is anything they can do for him return, to which he smiles in response.

“Well, I do suppose there is one dancer I would be delighted to meet in person.”

Rich. Yandere who you feel uncomfortable around. He is so strange. You were just a normal ballerina, a dancer, no better or worse than anyone before your time. That’s why you can’t fathom the interest this wealthy man has taken in you. You two came form completely different worlds! But what can you do when your bosses not-so-gently urge you to see this man alone? You dont have any other skills and can’t apply to another job if you get fired.

Rich. Yandere who is determined to make you fall for him the way he has fallen for you. He’ll take care of you, love you and protect you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. He will do anything for his love.

“Don’t be scared, just keep on dancing, my little dancer.”

[joelsmochi]

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

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“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude Jazza’s 2nd Birthday: “The Cursed Moon Within His Merciless Arms” Chapter 1

MDNI. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not repost or claim my translations as your own. Thank you for your support! ☾⋆

In these crazy days, it’s impossible to remember everything that occurs.

A week ago, a month ago, a year ago….I don’t think there are many who remember exactly what they were doing.

….But, everyone should be able to remember a piece of something that stood out to them.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so its’ brilliant face gradually changes.

If I could choose which part of each day I’d want to illuminate and etch it into my mind…..I’d illuminate it’s happiness.

That feeling becomes even stronger on the birthday of someone precious to me.

Kate: Mngh….

When I woke up in bed that morning, I saw Jude sleeping next to me, and I couldn’t help but melt.

I’d heard that he’d be busy at Raven company last night, and might be unable to come home….

I’m so happy he came back during the night and slept next to me.

(Today’s Jude’s birthday)

(I wanted to say “Happy Birthday” before anyone else, so I’m glad you came back.)

Jude: …..

Jude breathed peacefully in his sleep and showed no signs of waking.

(….He seems exhausted, I’ll let him sleep a bit longer.)

Careful not to make any noise, I started to sneak out of bed.

Despite that, Jude pulled me back from my waist and locked me in arms.

Kate: Jude….?

Jude: Cold.

Even with that limited explanation, it’s clear that he’s holding me back….

Kate: Do you want me to keep you warm?

Kate: Or maybe it’s just an excuse to cling to me?

I was so happy that Jude wanted me that I ended up teasing him without meaning to.

Kate: ….Oof!

Immediately, his arms squeezed me so tightly that my joints creaked, and I let out a groan.

身体が軋み “Shintai ga kishimi” = body creaks, changed to joints creaked

Jude: Must be half asleep for sayin’ such thin’s aintcha?

Kate: Ugh, that hurts…..! I just woke up, so please overlook my groggy comment….!

When I slapped Jude’s constricting arms as a sign of surrender, they finally loosened.

Jude: Woke up early this mornin’ hearin’ yer stupid comment.

Kate: …..It’s invigorating to wake up to the sound of your beloved’s voice. Good morning.

Kate: Oh, and Happy Birthday!

Jude: ….Yeah, thanks.

Jude replied disinterestedly as he sat up.

Kate: By the way, are you free today?

Even though I told him ahead of time that I wanted to spend his birthday together,

Jude has to pencil things into his schedule, so I asked him again.

Jude: Gotta business meetin.’ But….another employee can handle it.

Jude: I can take off work ‘n spend time with ya.

Jude: On the other hand -

Jude grabbed chin and pierced me with his provocative amethyst eyes.

Jude: — Can ya satisfy me ‘nough for the whole day, princess?

Kate: ….That’s what I plan to do!

After a light breakfast at a restaurant, we headed into town.

On his first birthday since becoming Jude’s girlfriend, my heart brimmed with excitement and my steps felt light.

However, the happy feeling was brief…..

Tanned Man: Where’d he go?! Jude Jazza!

Neurotic Looking Man: We have him cornered, he shouldn’t have gone far. You lot hurry up and find him!

Neurotic Looking Man: Don’t think you’ll get away…..I’ll kill you!

Although it was his precious birthday, we were hiding in the shadows of an alley.

Kate: ….Jude, who are they?

Jude: Buncha marine insurance guys runnin’ a shady business.

Jude: Even if an accident occurs, they’re known for not payin’ out, claimin’ it ain’t covered.

Jude: It was interferin’ with business ‘n an eyesore, so last month I dug up information ‘n sank ‘em.

Kate: And so that’s why they’ve got it out for you….

Kate: ….We could more or less escape. That house over there belongs to an older woman I was close to as postwoman.

I pointed to a house with a red roof on the other side of the wall.

Kate: I think if I ask, we can enter the back door and exit the front door onto the main street without be detected.

Jude: Then enterin’ the main road, we can blend into the crowd ‘n make a getaway.

Jude: ….What? Seems like ya wanna say somethin’ else.

(Naturally, Jude knows what I’m thinking.)

Kate: Even if we do get away, your enemies will likely target you again Jude….

Kate: The other option is to meet them head on.

I pulled up my skirt that I bought to wear specifically for Jude’s birthday.

A small gun was strapped to my thigh in it’s holster.

Kate: Don’t you think they should be held responsible for ruining your birthday?

Jude: Ha…such a dangerous woman.

Kate: The person I fell in love with is dangerous.

At my retort, Jude’s lips curled with amusement.

Jude: ….Oh yeah. Well then, whatcha gonna show me?

[Story Master List] [Chapter 2] Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely

[hannieoftheyear]

Right Time (kmg)

synopsis: a day before your 5 year high-school reunion, you find yourself at your best friends’ party, incapable of escaping your feelings for one of your long-time friends.

✧.* genre: kmg x fem reader, friends to lovers, basically pwp, smut, fluff(!!!), a little angst if you squint

✧.* w.c: 7,9k

✧.* content warnings: lots of teasing, switch!mingyu, unprotected sex, masturbation (m and f receiving), fingering, edging, cockwarming (not on purpose), begging, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, mingyu is strong, he's also a little pussy drunk :p

✧.* note: I'm so happy I was finally able to finish this! tysm for waiting and for all the support this acc has been receiving these past few weeks♡♡

I really hope you like this, and I apologize if there are any mistakes.

You're at Seungkwan's place and a few drinks in. It’s a Friday night, so you don’t care how much you drink because you have nothing to do tomorrow in the morning, and you’ll feel better at night to go to the dreaded reunion.

Seungkwan randomly decided to throw a party, and you thought, why not show up. You need something else on your mind, and your place is right in front anyway.

You’re talking with a group of people you barely know, maybe from your classes or around campus. You don’t know their names but somehow got inserted in their conversation.

But you tune away from the chat, thinking maybe you should go and try to find your friends. That’s when a hand grabs yours and directs you to the other side of the kitchen.

Mingyu looks proud, giggling as he takes you away from everyone and to a corner. His hand feels right against yours, fitting just like they’re meant to be together.

“Are you having fun?” You’re both now standing against a wall now, and he’s looking down to you, right into your eyes, expecting your answer. You just nod as you take another sip from your cup. Maybe the coldness of the drink can help with the dizziness of having him so close.

“Who were those people you were talking to? I’ve never seen them before.” You dare to look up at him and find his glossy eyes still trained on yours, almost like he wants to look inside your soul.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen them around on campus, but I don’t remember their names.” You look away from him briefly to look around the kitchen to see if they’re still there but find it empty.

“I was thinking about looking for you, actually.” His smile widens at your words, and you get to see his little fangs. The butterflies in your belly make an appearance, just like every time he smiles at you like that.

“It must be fate that brought me to the kitchen then.” He faces down a little more, and now your faces are merely inches away.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little drunk, but you let yourself stare at his features, he’s so close to you now that you could even count his eyelashes one by one. His sparkly eyes were always so pretty to you, you’ve told him several times, but he just shrugged it off. The mole on his nose, you still remember the first time you noticed it, and since then you’ve always wanted to kiss it. And his pretty plump lips that always had you wondering how they'd feel against yours.

You think you stared a little too long, but you don’t care, and the smirk forming on his face tells you he noticed it too. He was watching you closely too. You feel yourself starting to blush, but you indulge in the fantasy that he also may like you as much as you like him. Just for tonight.

He’s moving closer to your ear, his soft skin grazes yours, and you barely hear him on top of all the noise, “I like your dress, I’ve never seen you in a dress before.” The blush blossoms on your cheeks once more as you register his words, and you shy away from him.

The grin on his face tells you he’s enjoying the reaction he got out of you, and you punch his arm lightly. “Shut up! I was trying something different, but if you like it maybe I’ll wear it again.” You give him a little wink as you finish the sentence. Two can play this game.

Though he doesn’t move away like you did, you can see his ears turning a little red, but it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes shamelessly check you out now that you’re a little farther away than before.

He looks at you up and down a few times, licking his lips lightly. His eyes look different, but you can’t quite decipher how, and right when he’s about to speak, his look focuses on something behind you.

You turn back to see what took his attention away from you. Right away, you see Seungkwan coming to take you to play some stupid round of beer pong, saying he made a bet with Minghao and you’re the best player in here right now. He doesn’t even let you speak and grabs your hand, rushing you away to the living room full of people. And away from Mingyu.

You quickly turn to check on him and see he’s smiling at the interaction. Good, at least it didn’t completely ruin the moment. Seungkwan will pay for this.

The night goes smoothly, and Seungkwan is right. You are the best beer pong player at the party. Your side had 4 cups left, while your opponents, Minghao and Vernon, had only one.

After you made them lose three cups in a row, some people started getting engaged in the match –Seungkwan's loud screams of happiness drew a lot of attention, and now you have everyone in the living room paying attention to your last shot.

As you concentrate on your target, you scan the people around you and find Mingyu against a wall already looking at you. You weren’t nervous before, but the need to impress him invades you, and without thinking, you shoot the little ball. And you miss.

A round of oohs filled the room, and everyone was expecting you to win. Your first instinct is to look at Mingyu. He gives you a nod and reassuring look, but you’re still really embarrassed. You turn to face your opponents, who are rather amused at your miss and tease you before their turn. The game isn’t over yet, though.

You lose three more cups as the rounds pass, and you still can’t seem to reach theirs. Now, both teams have only one cup left. Your competitiveness starts to take over you. You can’t lose this now because it’ll seriously hurt your pride.

Taking a few breaths, you concentrate and actually plan your shot. Where the ball should bounce and how much force you have to put into it. Maybe you’re overthinking it, but you did this with the other shots, and you always got them.

You count, 3, 2, 1 and shoot.

Seungkwan reacts before you, jumping and hugging you like you just won a million dollars. And maybe you did because your pride is worth a lot. You hug him back and waste no time to tease Vernon and Minghao.

But what you want the most it’s to see his reaction. You search around the room, and the sight makes your insides turn.

Your mood drops when seeing Mingyu essentially flirt with some girl. She’s giggling at something he said. You watch as she lightly grabs his arm and gets close to one of his ears to whisper something. He doesn’t react at whatever she’s saying, but his eyebrows frown a little as he scans the room and eventually makes eye contact with you.

Trying to avoid him, you go back to Seungkwan, who’s still gloating about the win to the two boys and tell him you’re tired and you’re going home.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mingyu walking towards you, but you ignore him and keep waking to the door. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but it’s not nice to see the guy you’ve liked for countless years flirt with another girl right in front of you, and Seungkwan’s house is not very big so you only have two options: stay and endure the sight of a girl getting to do everything you want to, or leave and be at peace in your house.

You manage to get out of Seungkwan’s place, but Mingyu’s still following you, calling your name. The door to your apartment opens barely an inch when his hand comes from behind you and shuts it close.

With your arms crossed, you turn to face him, “Mingyu I’m tired. I just want to go home, please.” You don’t look him in the eye.

“Is everything okay? I thought we were having a good time.” He questions, very confused at your sudden reaction.

“Like I said, I’m just tired.” You know you’re not being fair. You don’t get to be mad at him. You’re not a couple, and he can flirt with as many girls as he wants. You’ve seen it happen before. “Can you let me open my door?”

“Did I do something?” He puts his hand right beside your head on the frame of the door, determined to get you to answer. You stare at each other for what it feels like hours, your eyes stay still watching his, but he’s scanning your frowny face.

“Mingyu please.” You uncross your arms and try pushing him away with one hand.

“Nope, you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” Trying to push him away was the wrong choice because now you have one hand on his very firm chest.

“Look, I really don’t want to do this right now. Just please let me leave, and you can go back to whatever you were doing.”

A smirk starts appearing on his face as he realizes what’s happening.

“And what was I doing?” He asks playfully. You motion to get your hand away from his chest, but he stops it and keeps it still in place.

“Oh c'mon.” Is he really going to make you say it? “I saw you with that girl, why are you here? Just go and talk to her! You seemed like you were having a good time.”

You’re lying. You didn’t really see much of the interaction, and he knows it. He knows because he kept an eye on you the whole time.

“Why do you care so much?” His annoyingly pretty face looks so smug as he interlocks his fingers with yours, and you let him.

“I don’t! Really, I don’t. I don’t care what you do on your own time. You can do whatever you want!” Sometime in your rant, his face came closer to yours, so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

“You seem like you do care.” And you swear you feel his smile before you see it.

His lips are mere centimeters away from yours, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being right, not yet at least, so you turn your face to the side.

“So, what if I did care? Which I repeat, I don’t.”

His face doesn’t move an inch, and you know he’s still smirking at you by how he sounds when he says the next words.

“Why were you storming off like that then?”

“I wasn’t storming off.” Your head shoots to face him again and you know you’re starting to sound defensive, but something tells you he knows your reasons and he’s just fucking with you, so why not do the same?

Trying not to sound too bitter, you continue, “I won the stupid game, of course, and when I turned around to tell you, you were busy! And I was going to leave after the game anyway.”

“So, just to be clear, you won, saw that I was “busy,” He removed his hand from the door only to add quotation marks as he said the word, then returned it to its place beside your head, “and because you were tired you decided to leave. Is that correct?”

“Yes, exactly.”

He expects you to continue, but when you don’t, and he asks, "No other reason?”

“Nope.”

The staring contest between you intensifies, and you see his brain trying to work out an answer, a sentence, anything to get you to say what he wants to hear. You wish you could read his mind. Why was he doing all of this? Why does he care so much about your reaction? So, you ask him exactly that.

“Why do you care so much about this anyway?” The silence is loud while he thinks what to answer, and you’re about to retract your question when he interrupts you.

“I just... I wanted to hang out with you and be with you for a while.” This is not the answer you were expecting. However, it makes you feel giddy inside. “We were having a good time before Seungkwan came to ask you to play, and I thought that after you finish, maybe we could just keep talking like we were before. But you saw me and went almost running to the door.” You thought he finished there with a sad tone, but he continued. “I thought I did something wrong, something that upset you,” His regretfulness doesn’t last long, and a smirk creeps back on his face. “But I think I know what happened now”.

“Oh, do you?” You snicker, and he steps back but doesn’t change his look.

Your faces are now far apart. He can see your reaction better this way.

“I think”, He pauses and makes a thinking face. His eyes go from your right eye to your lips, then to your left eye, “I think you are jealous.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks when you hear those words coming from him. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing seems to come out, too shocked to even react.

“Now you have nothing to say huh?”

You feel cornered. Should you just tell him the truth? How the simple thought of seeing him would brighten your days? That when he complimented something you were wearing, you’d make sure to wear it again? That your heart jumps every time he laughs at your jokes? That every time you’d see him going home with another girl, you would cry yourself to sleep? Tell him how you’ve been in love with him for years? Should you?

“You already seem to know everything, so what do you want me to do?” Your voice makes him step forward again, his body so close you feel his hands graze yours.

“I want you to tell me the truth, I want to hear it from you, not the guys, not the voices in my head, not anyone else, you.”

You freeze in place, heart beating so furiously you fear he might be able to hear it. What does he mean by the voices in his head? The words can’t seem to get out of you, and he’s staring so intensely that you almost forget how to speak. The noise from the long-forgotten party gets drowned out by the tension, so palpable you could cut it with a knife.

His look doesn’t change as the seconds pass, and your mind is scavenging for the right words to say, but nothing convinces you. He’s being patient, like he always is, so kind and patient with you, but you know if you don’t give him an answer he’ll just give up, believe that you don’t care and go back to the party, to that girl. So, you do the only thing that comes to mind, the thing that you’ve been wanting to do for so long. Your faces are so close you don’t even have to move much. You put one hand on the back of his neck and connect your lips together with his.

The butterflies in your stomach explode when he kisses you back, harder, and wraps both of his arms around your waist to bring your body closer to his. Is this really happening? You find yourself breaking the kiss to check if it’s real. You kissed Mingyu? And he’s kissing you back? This only ever happened in your wildest dreams.

His lips chase after yours, and when he opens his eyes, you welcome him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. Both of your hands are now at the side of his neck, caressing him while you look at his blushed face in awe.

“Is this real?” Are the first words that come out of your mouth, and he chuckles.

You’re both standing at your door, tangled up and giggling at each other like idiots.

“Very.” He gives you a peck, then another, then more, smiles never leaving.

"Do you maybe want to come inside?” You shyly ask.

He moves his face closer to yours, slowly, and you close your eyes expecting another kiss, but just when you feel his lips barely graze yours, the door clicks, opening, and he answers,

“Please”.

Even though your smile doesn’t break, you roll your eyes at his antics. “You’re so..."

You barely step one foot inside, and Mingyu’s got you against a wall, again. His lips trap yours, this time in a much deeper kiss, while his hands roam your body. You're so lost in him that you don’t stop the whine that comes out of you.

“I’m so what?” His lips leave your mouth and go for your neck, “Handsome? Funny? Charming? Good-looking?” He leaves a trail of kisses up your neck until he reaches your mouth again, but he doesn’t kiss you, expecting your answer. You chase his lips, but he moves his head back, smirking at your neediness.

“Annoying” he chuckles, and your hands move to his hair, “You’re so annoying”. You take advantage of your hands in his head and push him against you again.

He bites your lower lip, and when you moan, he takes the opportunity to meet his tongue with yours, trying to memorize every cavity of your mouth, and you let it.

You tug his hair, and he grinds against you instinctively. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you definitely do, so you repeat it a few times.

“You have to stop doing that before I take you right here right now." He’s breathless but starts kissing your neck right after.

You move your face to the side to give him more access and say teasingly, “What if that’s what I want?”

You feel him smile against your neck at the same time as he picks you up and moves you two to the couch. He sits down, and now you’re straddling him. You, once again, take advantage of the position and grind against him, his hard bulge hitting all the correct spots on your poorly clothed cunt.

His hands find their way under your dress, and his direct touch turns your skin on fire. He’s grabbing and squeezing your thighs as you keep grinding on him. You manage to take a few moans out of him, and it’s like music to your ears.

Your dress is so riled up that you could just slip it off like a shirt, so you do just that. As soon as you take it off, you move your hands to Mingyu’s waist and grab the hem of his black shirt. He's staring at your figure in awe but understands what you want right away and takes his shirt off quickly.

The both of you take a few seconds to admire the other’s body, your hands traveling from his defined abs to his chest, and he has to fight the whines that want to come out when you take a second too long on his nipples. He’s so sensitive today, maybe because it’s you.

“Can I take this off too?” He asks with his hands on your back, his fingers holding your bra clasp. You just nod and watch him as he takes your bra off himself. You swear his eyes grow ten times bigger at the sight of your bare boobs.

He's grabbing them as he pleases, and you don’t resist the urge to go and kiss him.

The make out gets hungrier by the second. You grind on him, creating delicious friction and he tugs at your nipples getting you to moan in his mouth, and every time without fail, you feel his cock twitch in his pants.

After a particularly loud moan escapes Mingyu’s throat, he separates your mouths, and his hands move to your thighs. You’re both breathless, and when you dare to look at his face, you almost forget how to breathe.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open, trying to regain a steady breath pattern. His hair is so messy that the hairstyle he previously had practically disappeared. And his eyes are filled with desire, even more so than they were at your door. He’s staring at you too, and you figure you look the same.

“Is this okay?” He asks between heavy breaths, and you nod vigorously. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you and touch you." Mingyu confesses in a smile, and you can’t help to chuckle a little.

“What? Don’t laugh! I’m serious.” Your laugh is contagious, getting him to laugh with you, but he’s still expecting an answer, afraid you’re laughing at him and not with him.

“I’m sorry, sorry.” You take a deep breath before continuing, “You actually have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.”

Your hand moves to his face, caressing his cheek, and he leans into your touch. You take your time exploring his face, going over the moles that you memorized long ago with your fingers. Now you want to memorize the feeling of his skin against yours. You trace his jaw and neck, but his hands don’t leave your thighs, and it’s driving you crazy.

“Touch me.” That makes his dark eyes go back to yours again. You don’t know it, but he’s going crazy inside trying to practice the little self-control he has left. “Touch me like you say you’ve been wanting to, please.” You half whisper half whine, and maybe he had no self-control after all.

As soon as the plea leaves you mouth, he turns you around, and now he’s towering over you, your head on the armrest of the couch and his body between your legs. Before you get to say anything, you feel his hand ghost over where you need him the most.

His hand grazes your covered core, and you sigh, pushing your body up. “Eager?”

His voice is teasing you, but his hand obliges your needs. His fingers draw slow circles on your clit through your panties and you bring his face to yours to suppress the moan threatening to come out.

You can feel how wet you are already, and you know he can feel it too, because every few strokes, his fingers go down to tease you hole through your underwear, and you hear the little grunt he lets out when he touches the wetness soaking your panties.

Starting to grow impatient at his slow motions, you push yourself against him. The movement makes his hand press harder against you, and you suppress a moan.

His mouth leaves yours suddenly and goes to our ear, “I want to hear you princess."

He presses harder again, and another moan threatens to leave your throat, but you insist, “Then touch me properly.”

Wasting no time, you move your hand away from his hair to the neglected bulge in his pants. He hisses at you touch, but you don’t leave it there. Instead, you unbutton his jeans and sneak your hand inside his underwear. You grab his thick cock and stroke it a few times. “Like this.”

The moans that he’s blessing you with turn you on even more. You press up to his hand again, reminding him of what he was doing, until he finally moves your panties to the side and presses his fingers against your wet cunt.

He starts kissing and biting your neck while collecting your arousal with his fingers, “You're so wet.” He mumbles against your neck.

“Only for y-you." You barely finish your words because without a warning, he buries two fingers into your hole.

His thrusts are slow but deep, making sure you feel even his knuckles against you. “They’re sliding right in.”

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or to himself, but you only find yourself capable of moaning in response.

Wet sounds fill your living room. The only other sounds are your moans and Mingyu’s occasional grunts. You feel yourself getting even wetter, if that’s even possible, and his fingers start thrusting harder and sharper, drilling into you like he's spelling his name inside you, erasing any trace of anyone before him.

His fingers fit inside you deliciously, and you find it hard to keep up the pace of your hands on his cock. You quiver on top of him when he finds your sweet spot and starts abusing it.

The relentless rhythm keeps getting harder and harder, touching right where you need him with every thrust, and you feel the familiar tightness in your stomach, so close to snapping you can taste it. But it gets ripped out of you when he gets his hand out and away from your pulsing core.

Your mind is so foggy you almost miss his smirk as you recover from your not-orgasm. “You’re… so mean.” You’re breathless and barely get those words out.

He trails kisses from your left boob up to your mouth and gives you a peck that’s a second too long. "What’s the rush?” His hands caress your inner thighs, teasing you even more after your ruined orgasm.

“Why did you stop?” The question comes out more of a whine than anything else, but he doesn’t reply. Before you know it, he’s taking your panties off, leaving you completely naked just for him. He takes a few seconds to admire your bare pussy.

His fingers spread your lips and spread your arousal all around you, but not touching where you need him the most. You're about to complain when you feel his breath on your core.

With his hands separating your legs to give him space, he dives into you, eating you out like a starved man. He flattens his tongue on your lips, feeling every pulse your aching core has to offer. A groan escapes out of him and sends shivers down your spine.

When you look down, your eyes lock onto his as his tongue plays with your clit as he pleases, and all you have to offer him are your unfiltered moans. Your hands sneak to his hair, and you tug at it, eagering him on and triggering more groans out of him.

You can feel the familiar burning sensation coming close, and more arousal starts gushing out of you, soaking his chin. He seems to notice it too, because he slurps it all up like he hasn’t had a drink in ages.

With his tongue preoccupied with your hole, his nose strokes your clit perfectly. You're too lost in pleasure, squirming nonstop under him. Your hands push his head further against your cunt and he speeds up his movements.

You don’t remove your eyes from his as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. You're shaking under Mingyu and can feel his mouth still working on you, drinking all the juices that come out of you. Soon enough, you feel the overstimulation and push his head away from you.

The sight of him leaves you in awe. His hair is even messier now, and the lower part of his face is drenched in your juices. He swipes the back of his hands to clean himself as much as possible, and he licks the remaining juices from his hand.

A new rush of arousal hits you at the sight, and you can only bring him close to you and kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue. A mix of saliva and arousal makes the kiss messier each second it passes.

“Take off your pants. I want to feel you,” you manage to get out with his lips on top of yours, and he obliges. You don’t separate as he wiggles them out and kicks them off. You hear the faint sound of them hitting the ground. He starts grinding against your bare core, and you realize he also took off his boxers. You moan in his mouth as his grinds against your bare cunt, mixing both of your juices.

You separate your lips from his to speak, but he takes it as an opportunity to start leaving marks against your neck.

“We should probably,” you don’t finish your sentence, sighing at the feeling of his teeth biting lightly on your sensitive spot.

“What was that baby?” He teases as his hands sneak up to your boobs and caress them softly. The softness of his touches and the way both of your sexes are grinding against each other contrast so much it’s making it hard to even think.

“W-we should go to the bedroom.”

“Mhm,” It’s all he replies, probably more of a muffled moan due to the grinding pace he’s settled. The tip of his cock perfectly grazes your clit and you almost forget what you wanted to say.

“I’m not fucking on the couch Mingyu,” it comes out breather than you want to, not with the serious tone you were looking for, but it seems to work because his head shoots right up at your words.

“Then let’s go to bed princess,” you see a glimpse of his smirk right before he picks you up. Mingyu knows your place like the back of his hand. He could easily walk around blindfolded, so it’s not hard for him to carry you easily to your bedroom.

He gently drops you on the bed, and, in a flash, he turns on the light and returns back on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist

The feeling of his lips against yours it’s as addicting as any drug. They move against each other easily, almost like that’s how it was always supposed to be. Your hands are all over each other’s bodies, roaming freely now that you have more space. His skin burns against yours, his touches leave traces you’ll never be able to forget.

Your hand sneaks down to wrap around his hard and leaking cock. You start plumping at a torturing slow pace, feeling every vein against your hand.

A shiver runs through him when your fingers pay special attention to the tip, drawing circles around it. He moans in your ear in response, and you feel his dick twitch against your palm right before a rush of more pre cum leaks out.

The juices make it easy for you to plump it a little faster, drawing little sighs out of him. His cock feels so thick against your hand, it makes you clench around nothing at the thought of having him inside.

“I need you inside,” His cock twitches again at your half-moaned words, exposing the effect your words have on him.

“Are you sure?”

“Please Mingyu,” you place his tip at your entrance at his hesitation. He moans at the feeling of your wet hole covering his leaking tip.

“You’re making me crazy.” He says as you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, and he pushes it inside just a little, but enough to have you both moaning.

“It’s what I do best,” you manage to get out right before he slowly thrusts inside, letting you feel just how much it deliciously stretches you.

The initial burning sensation of the stretch quickly dissolves and turns into pleasure when he bottoms out. He’s so deep inside that you can feel him in your throat, reaching places you’re not sure anyone has even come close to.

He twitches inside you when you clench around him, signaling him you’re ready, but he doesn’t move. His head sneaks down to your neck, and you can feel his heavy breathing.

You grab his face to make him look at you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything!" He replies, feigning innocence.

“That’s exactly what I’m complaining about."

“Just wait.” He places his hands on your waist to keep you from moving.

He notices your questioning look and rushes to say, “I'll cum too fast and I really don’t want this to be over too soon.” He finishes with an embarrassed tone, looking down to avoid your gaze.

“Who said it has to be over?” You try to sound playful, but he still isn’t looking up. “Mingyu look at me.” His head shoots straight up at your serious tone.

“You know I don’t fuck around and even less with my friends. I don’t want this to be a onetime thing.” He’s looking at you with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

Mingyu’s fingers draw circles on your sides. The touch feels so intimate, yet so right, because it’s him. “I don’t want it to be a one-time thing either,” He says carefully.

A reminder that he’s still inside you hits when you unconsciously clench around him and you both hiss at the stimulation.

“Then don’t worry.” Your hands caress the side of his face, and he leans into the touch. “We can talk later when you don’t have your dick fully inside of me.”

He chuckles at your words, and the vibrations reach all the way down to your connected cores. You give him a little peck and say, “Now please move because I’m going crazy."

A chuckle leaves his mouth again at your eagerness, but does what you asked nonetheless.

The first drag of his cock has you both moaning on each other’s mouths.

Your walls hug him just right, and Mingyu thinks this might just be what heaven feels like. He might get addicted to the feeling of you wrapped around him, a moaning mess under him, because of him.

The pace of his thrusts become hard and fast when he finds your g-spot. His gands grip your hips tightly, and your nails claw on his back, digging into his skin as he abuses the spot and he groans at the feeling.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly you begin to feel the familiar burning sensation on the pit of your stomach. His dick molding your insides to fit him have you in a delirious state, and you clench impossibly tighter around him.

“You’re so tight, oh my god,” He sighs against your neck after leaving a trail of marks that for sure are going to be visible tomorrow, but you don’t care. Your walls clench around him tightly, so tight he almost slips out.

“I’m so close,” the words leave your mouth in the form of a moan, and Mingyu responds by lowering one of his hands and directly stimulating your clit. “Cum with me Gyu please."

Your words snap something inside of him. His quick fingers match his relentless rhythm, and you’re shivering under him, your orgasm so close you can taste it, rushing towards you at the speed of light. His pounds become sloppy, and you know he's close too.

Your chests flush together, making his thrusts impossibly deeper. You’re seeing stars and babbling words out that you can’t decipher, but that seems to eager him on more.

Your bed is squeaking and hitting the wall behind, but it’s just background noise for you. The only thing on your mind is Mingyu inside of you and your orgasm so close so snapping you’re almost screaming every time his cock hits that spot inside you.

When Mingyu gets up from his hiding place on your neck, grabs your legs, and puts them on his shoulders you’re done for.

No less than a few thrusts in the new position, and you’re seeing white. The orgasm makes you shake uncontrollably under him, clenching and moaning with no restriction whatsoever.

Mingyu’s still pounding on you, chasing his own orgasm while maintaining yours on its peak for a record time.

“I want you inside,” are the only words you register coming out of you.

You manage to stop shaking just when you feel him twitch, releasing inside of you with a drawn out moan, filling you up with his seed.

He collapses on top of you. You can feel his dick somehow still twitching inside of you. One of his hands finds yours and interlocks your fingers.

You stay like that for a while, his face nuzzled on your neck, your other hand drawing circles on his back, and your heartbeats aligned.

“Now don’t fall asleep on me,” you say when you feel his breathing slowing down and he laughs lightly.

“You’re too comfortable,” he nuzzles his face on your neck and gives you a peck. It’s his new favorite place in the whole world. “I want to stay like this forever.”

“That’s really sweet Gyu,” You look down at where you know his head is and find him already staring at you, “But you’re crushing me.”

“Oh my god I’m sorry,” He rushes to apologize and motions to get up.

“It’s oka-ay, Oh my god!" He slips out of you in the middle of your sentence, and you can’t help to moan out. The drag of his cock on your overstimulated hole makes your mind foggy.

But nothing prepared you to feel his digits drag across your lower lips again. He’s almost in a trance, gathering both of your juices and spreading them all around your pussy, like it’s some kind of painting he’s working on.

The light stimulation turns you on again and he doesn’t resist the urge to dive into you pussy again, drinking the mix of juices and cleaning up the mess he just made. His tongue travels across every crevice in search for more of your juices.

When he notices more of his seed seeping out of you, he gathers it with two of his fingers and stuff it inside you again.

The sudden intrusion makes you whine in response. Your hands shoot down to his hair and tug at it. He moans at the feeling, reminding you his mouth is still on your lower lips.

Your insides are still sensitive from your delirious orgasm not long ago, and you feel every stroke raw and deep. His fingers push his seed further inside of you, curling up and finding your g-spot again in record time.

“Oh my god Mingyu!” His fingers abuse your spot while his tongue flattens on your clit.

“Mhm you like that? You like how I’m stuffing you full of my cum?” You can only moan in response as his tongue is back at you.

You grind yourself against his tongue, and he speeds up his fingers, thrusting hard and sharp exactly where you need it. The stimulation on your insides combined with his tongue is too much on you.

“I’m-m gonna c-cum!” You barely scream those words out right before you feel your release. You’re squirming and shaking under him, and his free hand has to hold you down. But his movements don’t stop. His fingers keep hitting inside you, drawing out your orgasm once more.

He slows down as you stop shaking and drags his fingers out of you when you stop clenching around them. His mouth is cleaning all your juices again. You have to push his face away before the overstimulation gets too much.

“Holy shit Mingyu,” you’re breathless, recovering from probably one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu says as he lays down by your side, hugging you as you lay your head on his chest. His hands caress your back softly, and you listen to his heartbeat under your ear.

“That was amazing.” You try to escape his arms to go to the bathroom to clean up, but he doesn’t let you.

His arms squeeze you in, “You’re not going anywhere.” You can’t help to chuckle at his reaction. “I’m just going to the bathroom babe, I’ll be right back.”

He reluctantly looses up his arms, but as you stand up, his hand grabs yours. When you look back, you find his endearing puppy eyes watching you, “What?” You ask with a smile on your face.

“Come back?” He simply says, and your smile widens. He’s so cute when he gets so sulky. You crouch down to give him a peck.

He tries to deepen it, but you don’t let him, “I’ll be right back, I promise. Count to twenty, and I’ll be back here again.”

He let’s go of your hands and starts counting out loud. You laugh as you walk fast to the bathroom. You clean up as best as you can and put clean underwear.

When you’re back, you notice he also put his boxers back on and tidied up the bed a little.

You jump to bed beside him, giving him a kiss after kiss on the lips. You separate just enough to stare at his face. His eyes have a sparkle in them you’ve never seen before, “Is this real?"

You’re both on your sides. Your hands are caressing the sides of his face while his are on your waist. You’re both staring and smiling at each other like idiots when he raises his voice.

“Can I tell you something? But promise not to laugh.” He asks with those puppy eyes, and you wouldn’t be able to tell him no even if you wanted to.

“I’m listening.”

“Remember what I said earlier, about wanting to do this for a long time? I” He pauses to think, and you just nod and stare at him, afraid of what he has to say next. “I really meant it, but like, not just having sex. I always imagined doing this on other circumstances, so forgive me if this sounds too rushed, but I really, really like you. I think I’ve had a crush on you since the first time we met, and every year that passed, my feelings never died down. It’s okay if you just want to stay friends after this, but I had to tell you I liked you. I can’t hold back any longer.”

You’re left speechless. Your brain tries to process everything that just came out of the mouth of the man of your dreams. “Are you serious?” Are the only words that manage so escape before you can even think about them.

Mingyu’s taken aback by your answer, but you're quick to continue, “Is this a dream? I must be dreaming.” Your smile widens as you fully understand everything that just happened.

“Mingyu why didn’t you tell me sooner!” Your hand slaps him lightly on his chest, and he gives you a confused smile. “I really really like you too!”

You’ve never seen him wearing a smile so big in your life, and you never want to go back to that dark and obscure world.

His grip tightens on your waist as he brings your bodies together, linking your lips in a soft kiss, letting you feel everything he couldn’t say out loud.

The kiss is sweet and slow, with no trace of hunger or lust. You take time to savor each other, now that you have all the time in the world together.

“We’re really stupid,” Mingyu jokes when you’re forced to separate in search for some air.

“I know right? We could’ve been doing this for a long time, but we’re chickens.”

“Hey! I confessed first! If I didn’t chase after you at the party, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Okaay you’re right,” You roll your eyes jokingly and cover your bodies with the bed sheets. You give him a little peck and turn around in his arms, and your back now flushed against his chest. “Let’s go to sleep.”

The morning sun and the personal heater behind you wake you up. You feel a hand caressing your tummy softly and turn around.

“How long have you been awake?”

You never want to go back to a time when you don’t wake up in Mingyu’s arms. Him wrapped around you, seeing his bare face just woken up. You think this is how life is supposed to be.

“Just a little while.” He smiles softly, still a little drowsy.

“You should’ve woken me up!”

“I didn’t want to bother you, besides I was just savoring the moment."

You hug him back, wrapping your arms around his back and nuzzling your head on his chest. The silence is peaceful as you both drink up each other’s presence.

His soft touches almost drift you back to sleep, but a little reminder pops up in your head.

“What time is it?” You hurriedly ask, reluctantly separating your bodies.

“I don’t know it’s probably like noon.”

“Oh my god Gyu today is the reunion! I almost forgot about it! We have to get ready.”

“It’s okay we have all afternoon.” He brings your bodies closer again, not letting you out of his grip.

“You don’t understand, I need all afternoon to get ready.”

“You could walk out there wearing a trash bag, and you’ll still be the prettiest, sexiest one there.” Blush creeps in on your cheeks at the compliment, and Mingyu can’t help the need to kiss you at the sight.

“Thank you, really,” you say in between kisses, “but I’ve been stressing about this for weeks and getting everything for the outfit so… you need to get going.”

“Are you kicking me out?” He moves his head to your neck, kissing your sensitive spot.

“You’re distracting,” you sigh out, giving into his touch and flushing your bodies closer. “We really need to get u-“.

His mouth is back on yours, interrupting you and kissing you with lust and neediness. Your actions don’t align with your words, as your hands sneak up to his hair and deepen the kiss.

You feel his growing bulge against your thigh and sigh against his mouth, giving him an opening for his tongue to dance around yours lazily.

It’s when he grinds against you that your mind remembers your original plan, and somehow you break the kiss.

“Let’s go,” you manage to get up before he catches you in his arms again. He’s lost, hair a mess from sleeping and from your hands, and you can see the outline of his growing bulge.

“You’re soo mean,” You put an oversized t-shirt on and drag him out of bed and onto the living room, where all your clothes are scattered on the floor.

“Do you want some coffee?” You ask him from your kitchen while he picks up his clothes and dresses up.

He doesn’t reply, so you think he didn’t hear you and start preparing two coffees just in case. That’s when you feel two arms hugging you from behind. Your back is pressed against his chest, and he’s kissing your neck.

“I think I’ll get going.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.” You turn around to face him, scared you ruined the day.

“No you didn’t! It’s okay, I understand, and besides, now I have all the time in the world to make you mine.” He kisses you softly for a few seconds before breaking it off, leaving you dizzy. “See you tonight."

He goes directly to your entrance, leaving you shocked on the kitchen, opens the door and waves you goodbye.

Not even one minute later, you hear your phone ding. You grab it thinking it’s Mingyu, but it’s not.

Kwanie: tell me I did not just see

Kwanie: Kim fucking Mingyu walking out of your apartment

Kwanie: all messed up and with the same clothes as yesterday

Kwanie: you have some explaining to do I’ll be waiting but not patiently

note: tysm for reading♥︎

I've been writing this for over a month, I got stuck so many times trying to figure out the best way to end it, ik it's kind of abrupt I apologize :(

[moeitsu]

for the ask game :)

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon. But could you give us more on your chubby Arthur HC? I need more of that! Like right now! (But no rush, I just love big boy Arthur as much as you do)  🙏❣️

Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh I would absolutely love to dive into more chubby!Arthur HC's. He is so dear to me.

I got carried away with this, and sorta poured my heart into it. It’s basically just a love letter to my favorite husky cowboy <3

WC: ~3k

TW: self-esteem issues, body dysmorphia, ED, alcoholism, some NSFW at the end so minors beware.

I also want to add, these are all just personal self-indulgent headcanons. So some might seem ooc. Take it up with the council if that bothers you :)

When I say chubby/fat Arthur I mean that with my full chest. I'm talking a big boy— a soft curved belly, thighs as big as tree trunks, and a smooth jawline.

I want to point out, muscle and fat are not mutually exclusive. He can be fat and incredibly strong.

Standing at 6'0", Arthur is already an imposing figure. His healthy weight in the game is around 210-220 lbs, but let’s add 30 more—making him a solid 250 lbs (give or take).

Even in the game, his healthy weight would still be considered a giant of a man for that time period. So keep that in mind.

Most of that weight? Pure muscle. Beneath his soft exterior are abs of steel, and those biceps could crush skulls and give the best hugs.

He is simply just a very husky man.

Deeply, deeply insecure as all hell about his weight though. Especially with you.

Especially in the bedroom.

Arthur knows he is strong and muscular, but he fixates on the “softness” of his body. Believing it makes him less capable and less desirable.

But more personally, it serves as a constant reminder of his failures and guilt.

The gang’s comments about his appetite and size don’t help. He pretends not to care, but every jab chips away at his confidence.

He’s often seen as the "muscle," a human shield, or an intimidating force, hearing terms like “big oaf” and “dumb brute” far too often.

Absolutely hates the way his presence fills a small room.

These insecurities run so deep that Arthur refuses to take his shirt off in front of others. Always making excuses to keep it on.

His body is marked by lots of stretch marks. They trace around his sides, under his belly, thighs and shoulders. He’s grateful that his body hair covers most of them.

Some are so deep they’ve become scars.

Hyper aware and very self-conscious of them. He thinks they’re a sign of weakness and being too “soft”.

Always avoids looking at himself in the mirror. He struggles with feeling undesirable as it is, and his body only adds to that torment.

Arthur has an unhealthy relationship with food and struggles with control. His eating habits are tied closely to his emotions.

He tends to overeat to cope with intense stress, loneliness and guilt. Food is used as a comfort in these moments—but he doesn’t enjoy it.

Trying to fill an emotional void rather than physical hunger.

At other times, food feels like a reminder of his lack of control. And he deprives himself of a meal or two. Using hunger as a punishment.

Alcohol has played a part in his weight too.

Often seeking its numbness to drown out the hunger and the noise of his own thoughts.

The heavy drinking dulls his appetite and gives him an excuse to skip meals.

Though he’s known to engage in binge cycles when things start to get really bad. Overindulging in both food and alcohol to the point where he’s physically sick and emotionally raw.

Moments like this tend to isolate him from the gang. He’s unwilling to face questions and judgement so he withdraws and wanders off.

Sometimes he feels more confident after having a drink or two, the alcohol dulling his self consciousness. He hates himself for needing it, and when the false confidence fades he feels exposed.

Okay goddamn those were really sad, moving on now!

Arthur worries that his size intimidates women. Some admire his strength, while others hurl insults, leaving him to quietly fear his body might never be truly loved.

He’s too big, too rough, too much.

Sweats a lot too, he can’t help it. He’s hyper aware of his odor when he hasn’t had the time for a proper wash. And feels immensely embarrassed when other people comment on it or make a face.

Spends a lot of time comparing himself to other men. Especially ones more “acceptable” in the eyes of a woman.

Because of his size and his looks he goes out of his way to be gentle and soft-spoken around women.

(^^^this especially is so so so canon to me. He is ALWAYS respectful and gentle with women)

Constantly aware of his own strength, and oftentimes has to reel himself in so he doesn’t unintentionally hurt somebody.

Arthur is

without a doubt

the sweetest gentle giant when you get to know him.

It will take time, but when he finds a woman who accepts his body, he can be a very loving partner.

He sees you as something he can protect and comfort and care for. Someone who needs him not for his size, but for his heart.

Feeling comfortable in his own skin around you is one of the greatest things you could ever give him.

Very touch starved (ill talk more on that later) and loves to give you the softest warmest hugs.

Regardless of his reputation, he has very tender hands. Whether he’s sketching you in delicate strokes, petting his horse’s neck, tracing his thumb over your cheek, or holding your baby.

The same hands that safely cradle you every night.

Despite his relationship with food, cooking and eating are still things he genuinely enjoys.

Love to hunt and cook over an open flame. Nothing better than the taste of woodsmoke in fresh meat.

He also loves to share his food. He will always make sure you have enough to eat, and even offer his own plate if you are still hungry.

It brings him great joy to be able to provide for you.

Let’s move on to some silly sweet and smutty ones shall we? ;)

The fastest way to this man’s heart is when you cook for him.

Especially baked goods. Bake him a sweet homemade apple-pie with a thick vanilla cream on top and he's getting you pregnant. going to marry you.

You could literally be an idiot sandwhich in the kitchen and he would still praise your cooking through the roof.

Why? Because he’s already head over heels in love with you for making the effort.

He also has a huge sweet tooth. Peppermint candies are his kryptonite.

Arthur’s laughter is a full-body experience. His chest trembles, his belly shakes, his voice booms. It’s impossible not to smile and laugh along with him. His eyes crinkle in the brightest way, making his joy contagious.

His real smile is rare, but when it comes it makes your heart flutter because he is so unguarded and in the moment you can glimpse the man beneath the hardened outlaw.

Man is the ultimate heater!!!

He makes the best personal blanket. His body runs hot, and he’s the fastest way to warm your freezing hands—though he might grumble when you tuck them under his shirt, directly onto his soft chest.

Your fingers feel like damn icicles. But he just adores the way you melt into him.

Loves when you ask him to warm you up. Like yes please, let this man just hold you in a big hug and rub your arms, your legs, your back. Everywhere.

Until there isn’t a trace of your body left that hasn’t felt his loving touch.

On this topic ^

Arthur loves physical affection with you. He is so so touch starved, and he craves it more than he'll ever admit.

With others he tends to flinch away or shrug off their touch. It’s not necessarily a distrust, but more of a defense.

Freezes up the first few times you do touch him. Always afraid of ruining the moment.

You have to be patient with Arthur, touch means trust. And physical affection becomes a deeply emotional act for him—things he rarely felt in his life.

Every hug, kiss, touch (and sex) is very sacred to him.

Smell gestures mean everything to him, especially in the camp. He is not a big fan of PDA, mostly due to his own insecurities. But he is not afraid to hold your hand, kiss your temple, or playfully flick your hat.

Protective gestures when you’re out in public.

Such as resting his large hand on your back as you walk. Positioning himself so he’s always close to you. Moving you behind him when strangers approach. Holding you tightly at night.

Completely melts under your touch.

Loves when you play with his hair, kiss his forehead, run your fingers through his beard, and oh god please please touch his belly.

Tracing slow circles on his chest and down the soft curve is a surefire way to get this man on!top!of!you!

The first time your fingertips trail down his stomach he’s caught off guard by how sensitive it feels. He might be soft, but your touch sets his skin on fire.

Something about it makes him nervous yet excited. The way your hands glide over him with such care and adoration makes his doubts disappear.

For the first time, Arthur feels comfortable being shirtless. It takes him awhile to work up the courage, your words and reassurance helps enormously.

But ultimately he just craves the feeling of your hands on his bare body.

It feel like a sanctuary.

Where a woman praises a man.

Because she loved him something holy.

He loves to be skin to skin. Didn’t realize how much he needed it until you offered it to him. He finds himself seeking it out whenever he can.

Adores the feeling of your bare chest against his. The way your nipples peak and harden when they brush over his chest hairs.

Your warm breath against his neck puts him at ease and helps him relax.

SMUTTT!!!

This man is easily aroused.

He’s often overwhelmed with desire, feeling like a lovesick teenager. (He just wants to be loved so goddamn bad)

Whether it’s watching the curve of your ass as you bend over, eyes lingering on your lips while you talk, or catching the scent of your hair as you lean in to kiss him, Arthur is hopelessly smitten.

There��s really nothing you can do that won’t stir this man's cock.

Just watching you ride a horse makes the blood flow.

Arthur is nervous and very insecure about his size when it comes to sex. It would take awhile for him to work up to it. But these doubts can be kissed away with gentle patience and praise.

Personally, I think the ‘first time’ with you would be very hard for him. He is not a sex god (yet) and he’s a nervous wreck when it comes to being intimate.

I wouldn’t blame him if struggled with losing an erection when his doubts and insecurities became too loud. He would be so embarrassed and apologize a million times.

If he’s had any alcohol it only makes things worse.

Compliment him, tell him how much you love his body. How his arms make you feel safe, how his chest feels like home against your cheek.

Remind him that you accept and love every inch of him.

He loves to be praised. Arthur needs to be praised. It is his weakness and it makes him feel cherished and confident.

The love language he wants to receive is words of affirmation 1000000%

But don’t let him fool you, for as much as he loves it he will always out praise you. In the bedroom, in the kitchen, on a job. It never ends. That deep soft spoken timbre of his voice never fails to make your knees weak.

This boy is putty in your hands. Mold him into whatever you need him to be, as long as he’s yours.

When he feels your lips trace down his chest and stomach he is gone. He is completely owned by you.

His breath quickens. Cock twitching helplessly, thick and dripping with arousal. Just aching to be inside.

Once Arthur gets you below him it’s suffocating in the best possible way. Your body is completely consumed by him, like nothing exists beyond the two of you.

It's like he’s trapped you in his world and every mewl, moan and whimper you make below him is for his ears alone. When he groans into your neck you feel it in your soul.

You thought he was a big man?

Wait till he’s rubbing his cock along your folds and prodding your entrance. Wait till he’s breathing sharply through his teeth as he pushes the thick swollen head inside. Letting out a long, low groan as he carves out a space for himself within your body.

It burns white hot as he pushes in. The pain mingling with a pleasure that was born from an aching need for connection and trust.

A kind of fullness that just feels so right.

Oh but he’s kissing you and praising you and stopping to make sure you’re okay. Arthur studies your face, for any sign of discomfort. But when you give him the ‘ok’, he loses himself in your embrace.

Eager to show you the same love and devotion you’ve so freely given him. Sex is divine. It’s a moment of surrender. He lets go and he lets himself just be.

He’s not an outlaw, a gunman, a survivor—he’s just a man. Deeply in love with a woman.

Arthur spent his whole life putting up walls to protect himself. Being intimate with you means tearing them down, letting his darkest parts be seen. Scars and all.

Sex with a big man can also be awkward if you let it. Arthur is large, he takes up a lot of space. Certain positions can be hard. And softer body parts tend to move more during the act.

And that’s okay! Because you love every moment of it.

Every time you moan, kiss his neck, tug on his hair, rake your nails down his back, tighten your walls, cry out his name—he’s reminded that he is worthy of love.

Arthur never rushes through sex (unless absolutely necessary) It’s a time for him to show his adoration, to dote on you. To bring you to the edge of euphoria again and again until nothing else matters.

Those ocean blue eyes will tell you everything. His love, his fear, his gratitude. Holding his gaze is not only a huge turn on but very emotional.

You can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, and simultaneously his lip curls. Learn to read his face and you’ll know exactly when he’s about to come.

Not only will you feel it, you’ll see it in the way he loses control.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, and his length has a lot to show for it. Arthur knows this, and he’ll spend his time getting you ready for him with his tongue and fingers.

Let the man eat you out as!much!as!he!wants!

There is no such thing as taking turns. Sit on his face, ride his goddamn nose. Squeeze his head with those beautiful thighs. Let him get drunk off that pretty pussy. The man fucking needs it.

Arthur is also a natural giver, but we all know that.

Big fan of slow, rough sex. Watching his cock slide out of your tight pussy, leaving just the tip before snapping his hips back into you.

Intoxication with how it steals your breath away with each thrust. The creamy sounds of your arousal mingled with your shaky moans make him go absolutely feral.

He has to grip the head board just to keep himself from breaking your spine with his strength.

Favorite positions are the ones where he can watch your face contort with pleasure. Often missionary or cowgirl. Sometimes doggy if he can put you in front of a mirror and make you watch.

Arthur’s vocal in bed, but only when there is little chance of being heard. He’ll sing for you when you’re alone in the wild, or cozied up in a hotel, he throws caution to the wind when you finally have your own home.

He whimpers too, and he stopped fighting them once he realized how much your cunt tightened around his cock in response.

Hear me out, after things are established between you and you’re both comfortable in bed. Sex becomes a very fun activity as much as it is a vulnerable one.

I’m not saying y’all would tell jokes in the middle (I think Arthur would be very serious) but the act itself is just fun.

Arthur’s watching your face twist in pleasure as you ride him. Sapphire blue eyes gleaming in the firelight, full of lust and hunger and something more playful. He’s gripping your bottom, initially helping your pace but now you’ve taken complete control. Using his body for your own pleasure, setting your own rhythm. Getting off on his cock.

“Yeah, you like that, huh sweet girl?” He coo’s, smacking a hand against your ass and gripping the flesh as it pillows beneath his fingers. “Like ridin’ my cock huh?”

You can only nod, and whimper out a broken “y—yes” mind too focused on not losing that pressure that’s steadily building in your belly. Rising with every bounce of your hips. Threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Yeah?” He repeats. A wicked chuckle escapes his lips. His large hands run down your chest and over your thighs, before crossing an arm behind his head. One hand still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. A smug grin tugging at his lips as he watches his cock disappear inside you. “Well go on darlin’, have your fun with me.”

Every deep groan rumbles freely from his chest as he watches you panting above him. Eyes full of love and adoration, he can feel you getting close. Gripping him so deliciously. “Fuck—Keep going baby. Keep fucking my cock with that tight pussy. You gonna come for me?”

Those words open the floodgates, your vision going blank as pleasure and stars exploded behind your eyes. Crying out his name. You hear Arthur’s stained voice as he finishes in you with a needy groan. “Th-that’s it. That’s m-my good girl.”

Aftercare king!

Arthur will wait for your breathing to slow before disturbing the peace. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he strokes your hair. He can feel your heartbeat in his belly and the feeling grounds him more than anything.

Will get you food, water, wet cloth, whatever you need. He knows you’ll be sore and exhausted the next day. It’s also his way of saying thank you for trusting him with your body.

Sex with Arthur comes with a great deal of emotion and trust. It’s one of the only moments he truly lets his guard down and lets the vulnerability’s surface.

It’s deeply personal, and he craves that connection more than anything. It’s his sacred right, his holy devotion.

Arthur loves being close with you, and he just loves you.

Over time he begins to see himself differently. He’ll never seem himself through your eyes. But instead of looking in the mirror and seeing a large, ugly, and broken man. He’ll see one worthy of love.

Instead of looking at his body and feeling shame, he’ll look at his belly and remember the tingling feeling of your lips. The soft pads of your fingers as you traced his sides, sending shivers that reached the base of his spine.

When he sees those stretch marks he’ll be reminded of how easily he can carry you. How he can provide food and shelter for you. How you’ll never have to worry because he will always shield you from the storm.

With time, he begins to take care of himself more. Drinking less, eating more regularly, and finding solace in his lover when he feels like he is slipping again. Trusting her to let him be broken and held.

Falling in love with you teaches him that healing isn’t a linear path. But your loyalty, love and kindness guide him far better than when he had been on his own.

Arthur’s finally found a place where he belongs.

And it’s with you.

That’s it folks, as you can see I’m very passionate about this subject. Ahem, if anyone would like a part 2 I would be much obliged :)

I touched on some of these HC’s in my Arthur x oc fic, if anyone is interested. I didn’t have time to dedicate the entire work to his body and self esteem issues. So this was very enjoyable for me!

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for resplendeo; Billy and Damian and the whole soulmate thing.

Batman pulls his cowl back up, because he’s Bruce Wayne and people would recognize him if he didn’t, and Billy flees as adult-ly as possible back to the meeting room. Everyone else is still there, including a very clearly tense Robin, and Billy has absolutely no idea what to say. 

“Um, so–” he tries to start, and Robin immediately bristles and draws himself up to his full height. 

“Silence!” he snaps, baring his teeth at him. “I want nothing to do with you. I have nothing to do with you.” 

“I mean, that’s not actually true?” Billy says, trying not to wince. “Like the soulmate thing is definitely a thing. If you don’t want me around, I understand, just first can I try to–” 

“I do not want you! You are superfluous!” Robin snarls, and, well, at least Billy knows why he’s picking the specific insults he’s picking this time. Though he doesn’t really know why Robin is so convinced of that even thinking that they’re familial soulmates. What’s wrong with having more family members? 

Like, ones who aren’t asshole uncles who’ll steal your inheritance and leave you homeless and destitute on the street just for kicks, he means. Obviously. 

Maybe Robin’s had an asshole uncle or two in his family. Billy can understand that. But also, like . . . that’s really not what’s happening here, so . . . he really needs to figure out how to, like, spin this or something. Or . . . something. 

“I would really like to talk to you first,” Billy says. “Like–just if you let me–” 

“No!” Robin snaps, clenching his fists as his shoulders stiffen. “You are unnecessary and I want nothing to do with you! I have a father, and he is neither dead nor derelict in his duties and I have no desire for–Father, I want nothing to do with him, don’t give me to some other–I am your son and I don’t want a different father!” 

“Oh,” Batman says quietly, and Billy cringes in guilt. Oh. Okay. 

He really, really didn’t mean to make Robin feel like his dad wouldn’t want him just because he had a soulmate. 

Shit. 

Batman opens his mouth and starts to say something, but the speed of Mercury and also guilt gets there first. 

“Please don’t freak out, I promise I’m not your dad,” Billy says with another cringe, half-covering his face with a hand, and Robin–pauses, and frowns.

“Wait, what?” Green Lantern says with a frown of his own. “You said you were the kid’s soulmate.” 

“I mean . . .” Billy winces, then drags his hand down his face. “I am? Just, uh–right, okay, so I maybe kind of joined the Justice League under pretenses that in a certain light might appear to be false and I am so sorry for how weird I have made . . . literally all of this, pretty much, pretty much everything ever? Also, um. Shazam.” 

The lightning hits in a blinding flash. Captain Marvel disappears. 

Everyone says absolutely nothing. A whole lot of nothing. 

Then Green Arrow falls out of his seat. 

“Marvel,” Flash says, just staring at Billy. “What the actual, literal, entire fuck.” 

“What the hell, Cap?!” Green Lantern yells. Billy, since he’s now not incapable of acting like a sassy little bastard with a heart of brass at best, just shrugs and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 

“Should you guys be swearing in front of the children like that?” he asks skeptically. Green Lantern makes a strangled noise. Green Arrow manages to fall out of his seat again without actually having successfully gotten back into it. 

“Is this your true form?” Wonder Woman asks, looking perplexed. Billy shrugs. Black Canary puts her face in her hands. 

“You–you are grounded, Mister,” she says. 

“No I’m not,” Billy says, making a face at her. “You can’t ground me, my parents are too dead for you to tell on me, and I’ll just Captain Marvel myself away if you try and stick me back in foster care. So there.”

Black Canary keeps her face in her hands and makes a very pained sound, for some reason. Superman looks very, very stressed out. 

Robin just tilts his head, looking much less upset than before. So that’s something, Billy figures. Like, that was what he was going for here, with ‘fessing up to this and all. He really was not intending to confess to this before Robin happened. 

“I see,” Robin says after a moment, narrowing his eyes assessingly as he looks Billy over. Billy resists the stupid urge to straighten his hoodie. “So you are a romantic soulmate to me, not a familial one. And you are also a nigh-unstoppable force of magic in possession of incredible godly powers.” 

“I . . . technically, I guess?” Billy says, not sure how to take that. 

“But you are also a literal twelve year-old,” Robin says, his eyes narrowing a little more. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Billy says with a grimace. Robin frowns. 

“I really don’t know how I feel about this,” he says.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

omg girl pretty please was perfect, need a part two with more spice

here it is, with a lot more spice, so be warned! 🔞

pretty please | pablo gavi [part 2]

🧁 synopsis: Pablo and you decide to turn your friendly casual hook-ups into a "no-strings-attached" arrangement – it sounds like the perfect plan: easy, fun, and uncomplicated. If only he weren’t so annoyingly impossible. tags: friends with benefits, banter, dirty talking, smut. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 3k words)

you can read the first part here

Your friends are spilling out of cars, shouting directions, arguing about who almost missed the turn, and debating who owes who gas money. You climb out of the backseat of your friend’s car, smoothing down your dress as you walk toward the restaurant.

Pablo is leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed like he’s trying to blend in. But the second you step out, his eyes lock on you, and he starts making a beeline straight for you.

“Hey, what’s with the dress?” he asks, his voice sharp enough to cut through the parking lot noise.

You blink at him, playing dumb. “What about it?”

He stops just short of crowding you, his eyes dragging over the vintage Versace. His expression gives away nothing, but you can tell he’s trying not to combust. He knows exactly what you’re doing, but you also try to keep your expression neutral, as if you’re completely oblivious to how short, how tight, and how ridiculous this dress is.

You borrowed it from your mom without asking. She would absolutely kill you if she knew, but as long as there aren’t any pictures, you figure you’re safe.

“You know exactly what about it.”

“No, I don’t.” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “You have something against fashion, Pablito?”

His jaw tightens, and you swear he mutters something under his breath. You’re having too much fun to care.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, twirling the hem of the dress between your fingers. “You don’t think it’s cute?”

“Cute?” He scoffs, looking around to make sure none of your friends are within earshot. “It’s... distracting.”

None of your friends know what the two of you do behind closed doors. To everyone else, you’re just two close friends, which makes it even funnier when they try to set you up.

It’s become a running joke between you and Gavi, the two of you playing along just enough to make them think they’re onto something.

You can’t help but grin. “Distracting for who?”

“For me,” he hisses, glaring at you like it’s your fault.

“Oh, well, I didn’t realize I had to run my wardrobe choices by you.” You shrug, pretending to think. “Maybe next time I’ll wear something really distracting.”

“Don’t even –”

“Come on, Pablito,” you cut him off, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the entrance. “People are waiting, and you’re being weird. Let’s go.”

His steps falter, but he follows, muttering as he lets you pull him along. “I’m not being weird.”

“Relax,” you say, turning to flash him a grin. “If it’s really bothering you, maybe you should sit on the other side of the table.”

He stops walking, staring at you like you’ve just personally challenged him to a duel. “Not a chance.”

“Suit yourself,” you sing, swinging open the restaurant door. Behind you, you hear him mutter something unintelligible – probably about how impossible you are – but he’s already following you in, like he always does.

part 2

Your group takes up the long table near the back and dinner starts out fine. Pablo, for reasons only he knows, has stationed himself at the far end of the table, so far away from you it feels intentional.

You figure it probably is.

It’s almost impressive, the way he’s managed to talk and gesture like everything’s normal, all while sneaking glances at you every few seconds. You know because you’ve been doing the exact same thing – watching him out of the corner of your eye as he fidgets with his glass, rubs the back of his neck, and very clearly struggles to keep his attention on the conversation in front of him.

You’re not trying to make things harder for him. Well... not exactly. Teasing him is fun, and you didn’t realize that was part of the deal when you started this whole “friends with benefits” arrangement. Apparently, it is, and it’s working better than you could’ve imagined.

The dress helps, of course.

By the time your friends start debating dessert orders, you notice Pablo’s grip on his fork is a little too tight. His jaw keeps ticking, and his eyes haven’t left you in what feels like minutes.

Then, out of nowhere, he blurts, “Oh, we need to go.”

The entire table falls silent, everyone looking at him in confusion.

“What?” one of your friends asks.

Pablo’s eyes are glued to you, panic flickering in them like he didn’t think this through. “We have that... thing,” he says, gulping hard. “With your brother.”

You nearly choke on your drink. His eyebrows are doing that wild thing they do when he’s embarrassed, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing on the spot.

“Right,” you say smoothly, nodding. “Thanks for reminding me, Pablito.” You grab your bag, standing up with practiced calm. “Sorry, guys, we’re leaving. Can’t be late.”

Your friends barely react. You and Pablo leaving early isn’t exactly unusual – you’ve been practically glued at the hip since you met.

You pay your share of the check, wave goodbye, and make it all the way to his car before the composure you’ve been holding onto snaps.

As soon as the doors shut, you burst out laughing.

“With my brother?” you wheeze, clutching your stomach. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

Pablo glares at you, his ears turning pink. “Don’t.” His voice is low, trying for roughness, but it only makes you laugh harder.

“Oh my God, you looked like you were going to pass out.”

“I said don’t.” He leans back in his seat, covering his face with his hands, but you can see the faintest hint of a grin breaking through. “I can’t believe you did that.” 

You blink at him, “Did what?”

He scoffs before turning to glare at you. “You spent the entire dinner giving me that look.”

“What look?” you ask, trying not to grin.

His jaw tightens, and for a second, he looks like he regrets saying anything. But then he mutters, “The look you have when you want to... you know.”

You burst out laughing, loud and uncontrollable as his ears turn pink.

“You’re insane!” you manage between laughs. “That’s totally a projection. You were the one who kept looking over at me.”

“Whatever,” he snaps, looking back at the road as he starts the car. “I’m taking you to mine.”

You’re still grinning, leaning your head back against the seat. “And what are we doing at your place, Pablo?”

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, and the smirk creeping onto his face says it all. “I don’t know,” he says casually, his tone a perfect imitation of innocence. “Play video games, maybe. That’s what we do, right?”

“Right,” you say, biting your lip to hold back another laugh. 

He’s not saying what he really wants, but he doesn’t have to. And the way his hand taps restlessly on the steering wheel tells you he’s not going to hold out much longer.

part 3

His bedroom door clicks shut behind you, and before you can even process what’s happening, Pablo is dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” you blurt out, genuinely taken aback.

He doesn’t answer right away, his hands already gliding down the sides of your thighs. His head tilts up briefly and you can see the faint flush creeping over his face. It’s not shame, it’s desire.

You’re tempted to say something snarky, to keep up the teasing game you started at dinner, but the way he looks at you – half-lidded, feverish – makes the words catch in your throat.

When his lips press against the curve of your leg, just above your knee, you feel your breath hitch. He trails soft kisses down, his touch so careful it sends shivers up your spine. 

“Pablo,” you say again, but this time it comes out quieter.

Still, he doesn’t respond, his hands sliding down to your ankles. When he finally reaches your feet, he pauses, looking up at you as if asking for permission – or maybe just enjoying the way you’re completely at his mercy.

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, trying to sound unaffected.

He smirks, the flush deepening on his cheeks as he carefully slides one of your heels off, then the other. “And you’re a brat,” he says, like it’s a compliment.

You’d almost feel bad for teasing him earlier. Almost.

But the way he’s looking at you now? Yeah, you don’t feel sorry at all.

Gavi stands up and you raise an eyebrow at him when he takes you completely by surprise. Before you can react, he hooks an arm around your waist and manhandles you up like you weigh nothing.

“Pablo!” you yelp, your legs kicking lightly in protest as he hauls you toward the bed.

“What?” he says, laughing as he effortlessly shifts you in his arms. 

“Put me down!” you demand, though the smile on your face betrays your annoyance.

“Okay,” he says, plopping you unceremoniously onto the mattress. You bounce once and he doesn’t follow immediately. Instead, he steps back, his dark eyes scanning over you. His head tilts slightly, his brow furrowing.

“You’re… hot,” he says finally.

You blink up at him, “You’re only noticing now?”

He moves closer, his hands skimming over the fabric of your dress. His fingers linger at the hem, then drift to the exposed skin of your thighs, your shoulders, the back of your neck – everywhere the dress doesn’t cover.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, his voice lower now, his focus entirely on you.

Before you can respond, his hands slide up to cup your face, holding you firmly, like he needs you to hear him. His thumbs brush against your cheekbones.

“You look really fucking hot right now,” he says, and there’s nothing teasing about the way he says it. 

You open your mouth to reply, but the words won’t come. You’re too distracted by the way he’s looking at you. So you don’t even think about it – you just grab his shirt and pull him down, kissing him hard. The kind of kiss that friends definitely shouldn’t be sharing. It’s reckless, fueled by everything he’s made you feel tonight, by all the times he’s told you not to overthink this, not to complicate things.

But this? This is the definition of complicated, and you don’t care.

At first, he freezes, like the force of your kiss has stunned him. Then his hands tighten on your face, and he kisses you back even harder.

His lips move against yours with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin, and his fingers slide into your hair, anchoring you to him. 

When he finally breaks the kiss, his hands are still cradling your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he can’t quite let go. His gaze drops, taking in every inch of you, and when he looks back up, there’s a determined gleam in his eyes.

“I’m not even taking the dress off,” he says, his voice low and sure as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “We can’t! My mom would kill me if I screwed up this dress.”

But Gavi just shakes his head, completely unfazed. “I’ll buy her another one.”

His shirt is off now, tossed somewhere behind him, and you’re caught between laughing at his confidence and being completely swept up in it.

“Oh, really?” 

“Really,” he replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hands find your waist again, pulling you closer as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin.

You shake your head again, but this time it’s less about disbelief and more about the fact that you’re already giving in. 

He slides your lacy underwear off with deliberate care, and when he notices they match the color of your dress, he pauses for a beat, his eyes lingering. The corner of his mouth twitches before he does something you don’t expect – he places them right next to your face, on the pillow you’re lying on, his grip on them firm.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out. “You’re so weird.”

His lips twitch into a smirk, but he doesn’t let it slide. “Stop calling me weird,” he mutters, biting your ear in retaliation before trailing down to your neck.

You shiver under his attention, but then he pulls back to focus on his next task – taking off his pants with a kind of urgency that’s kind of endearing. When he’s finally stripped nude, he stands in front of you, hands on his hips like he’s waiting for a round of applause.

“Tell me I’m hot,” he demands.

You shake your head, biting back another laugh. “What? No way.”

“Why not?” he asks, feigning offense as he moves closer. “Come on, say it.”

He leans in, peppering kisses across your cheek and jaw, his persistence both ridiculous and charming.

“You think your annoying best friend is hot, don’t you?” he whispers into your ear, his tone dropping just enough to make your pulse race. “And you want to sleep with me, don’t you?”

“Stop projecting your feelings onto me,” you argue, but your voice is breathy, already undone by his proximity. Your words would be more effective if you weren’t already moaning under his touch, two of his fingers going in and out inside of you, the softest sounds escaping you as his lips find yours again.

The room is filled with your unsteady breaths and the sounds you can’t quite keep contained, each one louder than the last. But then, out of nowhere, Gavi stills completely, his movements halting. He grabs your chin, tilting your face toward his. His expression is serious, annoyingly composed.

“I’m not letting you finish until you tell me I’m hot,” he says, like this is a perfectly reasonable demand to make at a time like this.

You glare at him, every nerve in your body screaming at the unfairness of it all. But it’s too late for you – you’ve already given up.

“You’re hot, okay?” you snap, your voice desperate and unfiltered. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever been with, so please, please just fuck me.”

For a second, he looks almost touched. And then, to your complete horror, he has the audacity to laugh.

“Jesus! Calm down, I’ll do it,” he says, his grin breaking through his mock seriousness.

You see red, slapping his hand away from your chin in pure frustration. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but before you can say more, he’s fingering you again, his hands steady and assured, and everything else fades away.

His hands and lips and teeth start exploring every inch of you with a passion that feels almost primal. He’s relentless, his mouth all over your skin, lingering on the parts of you he knows will make your breath hitch. The delicate fabric of your dress shifts under his hands, pushed and pulled as he reveals more of you, your breasts, your cunt, as he eats you out with a feral hunger.

You cum twice, his name falling from your lips. By the time he finally lifts his head from between your legs, his smile is smug, proud.

“I’ll give you what you asked for now,” he says, “What you begged me for.”

“Shut up,” you snap, your voice unsteady.

He laughs, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. “You’re so mean to me,” he murmurs, shifting you gently to your side. His voice softens further as he positions himself behind you. “I always give you what you want, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes, your tone sharp even as your breath hitches. “Hurry up with the condom.”

“Do you want to put it on?”

“Yes…” you mutter, your fingers brushing against his as you take it from him.

When he finally enters you, it’s consciously slow, his lips pressing softly to your shoulder, shushing you as your breathing grows uneven again. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soothing as his pace quickens, the rhythm you find together is absolutely perfect.

As you sense him nearing his peak, you lean back slightly, your voice quiet but sure. “Cum in my mouth.”

Pablo groans loudly, a mix of gritted words spilling out. “Fuck, fuck.” He pulls away quickly, his breathing ragged. “That’s what you wanted all night, wasn’t it?” He’s breathless, his words edged with laughter. “You wanted to taste, wanted to – fuck, to eat my cum, fuck – nasty girl.”

He’s hasty and shaky now, completely lost in pleasure as his member fits perfectly in your mouth. He closes his eyes, moaning loudly as he finishes. In his hurry, he becomes careless, and a few drops land on your face, his eyes widen. Then, without missing a beat, he leans in to clean it off, his tongue brushing over your skin with an exaggerated gentleness that makes you giggle.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, but he shushes you, his focus entirely on his task.

“Fixing my mess,” he mutters, his lips trailing up to yours. He kisses you fiercely, sucking your tongue. It’s messy and uncoordinated, full of laughter and half-mumbled complaints.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes rake over you, and he groans dramatically. “Mierda, I’m hard again.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest. “You’re too horny!”

“Me?” he scoffs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you down effortlessly. “You came three times, and I didn’t hear you complaining then.”

You roll your eyes, already teasing him with your touch, one hand on his erect member, caressing him. “I’m tired now,” you say, your voice playful even as you keep up your antics.

“Tired?” he repeats, “No, no way. Give me another one.”

You stretch out lazily on the bed, making yourself comfortable. “Fine,” you say with a grin. “But I’m not doing any work this time. You’re on top.”

Gavi groans again, rolling his eyes. But the smile on his face says he’s more than ready to oblige.

[justevelynnnn]

Nsfw alphabet Wolverine💛💙

Notes: Hellloooooo Everyone… Ok so I did see the wonderful Wolverine and Deadpool movie and now I’m obsessed with this man and this character. Like specifically this Hugh jackman wolverine. I’m gonna admit right now…I never cared about Wolverine until seeing that movie. I never saw any of the other movies either😭 I barely even know what the “X-men” are. My dad is the marvel fan so he kinda just puts me on and is the only reason I care about these hero movies to begin with… Soooo I’m sorry to any long time fans… but anyways because I just cannot stop thinking about this movie and this guy I’m doing my first ever nsfw alphabet thingy! ✨🎉🎊 Yippie!!

I mighttt do a sfw version. But I dunno, I’ve only ever seen this one movie so I might miss important little pieces of his character but I really just wanna do this so yeah😞. Sorry for rambling, I hope everyone enjoysss 👍🏾👍🏾

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Don’t let that grump personality fool you, Logan is honestly really sweet after everything is all over. He has some towels nearby to help clean you off and he’ll even offer you water. He’s experienced so he knows what he’s doing. Sometimes if he feels like he was too rough with you he’ll even try to massage your sore muscles.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of he had to pick would be his arms. He spends a lot of time keeping up his fit and strong appearance. Especially his biceps, and they’re honestly your favorite part of him too.

His favorite part of you is your hips. He loves squeezing them even when he’s not in bed. He loves watching them sway as you walk. How they look in skirts and nice dresses… It’s the first thing he noticed about you and they kinda drive him crazy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Logan doesn’t jack off a lot (he’d rather drink tbh) and with the constant missions he’s too busy to really… “relieve himself” so whenever he did get with someone he’d cum alot.

He did a lot of one night stands before you. Just meaningless sex to get off. But you changed everything. Cumming was so much better with someone he actually cared about. He loved it.

He still came quite a bit. It had no real taste or anything either.

He doesn’t care where either but he likes watching you swallow it or just watching it disappear in you in general.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants to fuck you somewhere public. Even better if there’s a huge risk of being caught. He never will ask but he really hopes one day you’ll try and initiate it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Given that he’s almost 200, he has…quite a bit. Like said before he did a lot of one night stands between missions so he eventually picked up on a lot. He knows what makes people tick.

So of course when you came along he could tell what you’d like just by how you’d walk. And of course he’s very attentive so any squirming or noise you made he’d pay attention to it all and remember for the future.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything he can see your face in. He doesn’t care. He’s honestly not a big fan of doggy either but if you like it he’ll do it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a bit serious but not super serious. He’ll laugh at a few things but he won’t be telling too many jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He actually keeps himself pretty neat down there. He likes to keep things shaven enough so the people that do go down on him don’t get mouthfuls of hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Let’s just say the better he knows you, the more intimate he is. Oh course with his one night stands he didn’t care if people finished or not and that’s just how it was. Kinda cold tbh.

With you he’s pretty intimate especially the closer y’all are. He likes to hold you close to him and sometimes if he’s feeling really sweet and sappy he’ll stare into your eyes more…

He’s not too too sweet but he’s sweet enough for being Logan.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He never really used to jack off. Didn’t feel the appeal. Before he really got into sleeping around he’d just drink. Somehow it helped curve his lust. Then when he started sleeping with a bunch of others he jerked off even less. And when you came into his life..even less. If you two didn’t have sex for a while and he was super desperate and missing you he’d rub a quick one out. Desperate times, desperate measures!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than exhibitionism and sometimes just plain dirty talking,……primal play. He’s always been a feral guy so it makes sense. He never considered it before you but you really changed him. He wasn’t into it at first though because he was scared he’d hurt you but once you said it was ok and taught him what a safe word was he tried it and it changed his life. Deep down he really loved being a bit more primal in bed with you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t care or have a favorite place. Most of the time y’all end up in his bed or wherever y’all are sleeping for the night but he doesn’t care where in the end.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Before you, nothing… he didn’t care much as long as the person has a fuckable hole. He preferred women but if it was a guy he wouldn’t mind.

When you came into his life, it was everything. The way you’d talk, move, dress even sometimes. He has a lot of self control though so you weren’t aware of how crazy you drove him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t wanna hurt you. He doesn’t wanna yell hurtful things at you either. You once brought up him using his claws and jut flat out declined. How would he even incorporate them? Just no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Before you, he’d rather receive. That was kinda the whole point of sleeping around the way he would, to get off.

After he met you he became obsessed with getting you off. And he was really good at it too of course with all his experience. He loved fingering and using his tongue at the same time but if you had a preference he’d obey immediately. He just loved getting you off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Logan was normally just lazy and sensual. He didn’t care about being a top or bottom but he’d normally default to bottom. He was never too crazy with his one night stands. He’d only be fast and rough if he was mad enough which was rare. He didn’t like hurting people during sex.

When you came along he kinda stayed the same but if you’d ask him to be a certain way he would. He didn’t like being rough with you either too much honestly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s ok with them. Of course with you he’d rather spend more time making love to you but if time didn’t allow it he’d totally be down for a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d experiment with the primal play thing but other than that ehhh… once Deadpool suggested a threesome, and though Logan considered it for a second he said no. Maybe if he was drunk enough…

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Being the way he is, he can go all night. This man had a lot of stamina it was actually kinda insane. Of course he’d be more tired after a mission but at minimum he could go for maybe 5, 6 rounds if that was the case?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn’t really care for toys honestly. He didn’t hate them he’d just rather not. He always was like that too even before you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes if he was a bit drunk he’ll tease but he doesn’t really do it much. It’s rare..

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Logan’s never been too loud. He definitely grunts and groans and when he gets with you he moans a bit too. But other than that he’s quiet.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There’s different things saying different things about his sexuality but I saw something about him behind bi and I agree

Did he or did he not fuck Deadpool in that Honda odyssey😭

I just don’t think he cared who he ended up sleeping with as long as he got off

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s girthy. I firmly belief it idc. I forgot the average length but I think he’d be like 6 and a halfish. Oh and he knows how to use it too of course

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Like said he never cared to jack off but sometimes he did get a bit needy from time to time so that’s what lead to the in between mission fucks. With you he’d be good if y’all did it at least a few times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

With the random people he’d sleep with, immediately. He didn’t care as long as he got off, came and the other person was done.

With you though he couldn’t until he knew you were good. Sometimes he would lay still for a bit to catch his breath but after a bit he would do his usual aftercare with you and sometimes he would wait until you feel asleep first.

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up, festive buttercups! 🎄✨

We’re back with another chapter of Sexy Christmas, and this one is for all my Matthew Tkachuk fans. 🖤 Who doesn’t love a little teasing, a little heat, and a whole lot of “naughty list” energy? Matthew had an absolute blast starring in this cheeky, steamy tale, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

As always, thank you for all the love and feedback—it keeps this holiday magic alive! Let me know what you think of this naughty little treat, and don’t forget to tell me if Matthew’s making your naughty list this year 🎁🔥

Merry reading, my lovelies!

xo ❤️

➼｡ﾟ

Santa’s Naughty List - Matthew Tkachuk

The hockey player teases OC about being on Santa’s naughty list, but by the end of the night, it’s clear they’re both interested in exploring who’s been the naughtiest this Christmas.

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Matthew Tkachuk x reader, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), sexual intercourse with guests in the house

Word count: 2.7K

The annual team Christmas party at the captain’s residence was in full swing, a mix of laughter, holiday music, and the clinking of glasses filling the room. Matthew Tkachuk had been his usual self all evening—charming, quick with a joke, and somehow always finding his way back to you no matter where you moved in the room.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to exchange playful banter, but tonight, there was something else in his tone, something that sent shivers down your spine whenever his gaze lingered a little too long.

You were standing by the bar, sipping a glass of wine, when he approached again, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Careful there,” he teased, nodding to your glass. “Too much of that and Santa might just keep you on the naughty list.”

You raised an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. “Oh? And what makes you so sure I’m on the naughty list?”

Matthew stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you in the dim light. His voice dropped slightly, the teasing edge still there but laced with something deeper. “I’ve got my reasons,” he said, his eyes trailing over you briefly before locking onto yours. “But I guess we’ll just have to find out how naughty you’ve been, won’t we?”

Your cheeks warmed, though you refused to let him see you falter. “Bold of you to assume I’m the naughty one. What about you?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone low and inviting. “I’ve made peace with being on that list a long time ago.”

The heat in his voice, combined with the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, sent a thrill through you. You weren’t sure if it was the wine, the festive atmosphere, or just the way Matthew seemed to have your full attention tonight, but your heart was racing.

“Prove it,” you said, surprising even yourself with the challenge in your voice.

Matthew’s grin widened, and for a moment, you could see the flicker of surprise before he leaned even closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Careful what you wish for,” he warned, his voice a husky whisper.

The party continued around you, but it felt as if the two of you were in your own little bubble. When Matthew reached for your hand, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary, you followed him without question as he guided you away from the noise and into a quieter corner of the house.

The room, seemingly a mix of a home office and lounge area, he led you to was warm and softly lit, the faint glow of Christmas lights from outside spilling through the window. He closed the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place making your breath hitch.

Matthew turned to face you, his eyes dark and filled with an intensity that made your pulse race. “Now,” he said, his voice steady, his hands finding your hips as he stepped closer, “let’s see who’s really been naughty.”

You tilted your head, your hands finding their way to his chest, your fingers grazing over the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

He smirked, his hands sliding up your sides as he pulled you flush against him. “Then it’s only fair we settle this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, the tension between you igniting like a spark catching fire.

Your hands moved to his neck, tangling in his curly hair as his grip on your waist tightened. His lips were insistent, his movements deliberate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long.

“Matts,” you breathed, his name falling from your lips as he kissed along your jawline, his hands exploring with a mix of confidence and reverence.

“Just tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, though his actions made it clear he hoped you wouldn’t.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

Matthew’s lips claimed yours with a playful urgency, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you against him, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest when your breath hitched. The chaise pressed against the back of your legs, and with a teasing nudge, he guided you down onto the soft cushions, his body following close behind.

“Well, well,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement as he hovered over you, his dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Who would’ve thought Santa’s naughtiest little elf would look this good under me?”

You rolled your eyes, though your grin gave you away. “Says the guy who’s been on the naughty list for years.”

“Touché,” he replied, dipping his head to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver as his hands slid beneath your blouse, fingers splaying across your bare waist. “But tonight… I think I’m about to outdo myself.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, your fingers finding their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Your breath caught slightly as his broad, toned chest came into view. “Show me what you’ve got, Tkachuk.”

“I told you: careful what you wish for,” he shot back with a wink, his lips curving into a wicked grin before capturing yours again. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours as his hands moved higher, pulling your blouse off and tossing it aside.

His eyes roamed over you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. “If this is what being on the naughty list gets me, I’m staying there forever.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it quickly turned into a gasp as his lips trailed lower, tracing the curve of your collarbone before descending to the swell of your chest. His hands made quick work of your bra, and when it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing, he leaned back just enough to take in the sight of you again.

“Absolutely perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist as his lips followed the path of his gaze. His kisses grew bolder, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your back arch beneath him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as he worked his way lower, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. “Matts,” you said, your voice trembling but laced with a teasing edge. “Are you just going to admire me all night, or…?”

He grinned against your skin, his hands hooking into the waistband of your trousers. “Patience, babe,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mischief. “Santa’s got a whole list to check off.”

You laughed, but again, it quickly turned into a gasp as he tugged your trousers down, his hands sliding over your bare thighs with deliberate slowness. “Mat- Mmm…” you began, but the words died on your lips as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just above your hip.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk as he looked up at you. “I’ll make sure you get exactly what you deserve.”

Matthew’s hands gripped your thighs firmly, his thumbs brushing over your skin in slow, teasing circles. The firelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across the room, but all you could focus on was him—his smirk, his dark eyes that seemed to burn with unspoken promises, and the way he made your breath hitch with every deliberate touch.

He trailed kisses along your inner thigh, his lips warm and lingering, each one building the tension that was already crackling between you. “You’ve been good at hiding just how bad you want this,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with amusement, his hands slipping higher.

“Matt…” you breathed, your voice catching as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down with agonising slowness. The cool air hit your skin for only a moment before his warm hands replaced it, his touch confident but maddeningly slow.

“I said patience, babe,” he teased, his lips hovering just above the sensitive spot that had you arching into him. “I’m enjoying this way too much to rush.”

Your fingers curled into the chaise beneath you as his lips finally found your core, his touch gentle at first, exploring and deliberate, like he was savouring every moment. The heat of his mouth and the firm pressure of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your hips bucking slightly against him as a soft moan escaped your lips.

“God, you’re so needy,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and hunger as he glanced up at you. His hands slid to your hips, holding you steady as he pressed deeper, his movements growing bolder, more purposeful. Each stroke, each swirl of his tongue was designed to drive you closer to the edge, and the way he watched your every reaction only added to the intensity.

You gasped his name, your hands finding their way to his hair, tugging lightly as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on your senses. “Matthew… I—”

“Mmm yes, that's it,” he murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through you as he worked you closer to your climax. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

The heat built steadily, his touch never faltering, his hands and lips working in perfect harmony until the tension inside you snapped. Your release crashed over you, leaving you trembling in his hands, his name spilling from your lips in a broken moan.

Matthew didn’t pull away immediately, his movements gentle as he eased you through the aftershocks, his hands stroking your thighs soothingly. When he finally looked up at you, his lips glistening and his eyes heavy with satisfaction, he grinned. “That’s one thing checked off the naughty list.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushed as you tugged him up to meet you. “Your turn,” you murmured, your hands already working at the button of his jeans. The firelight painted his skin in golden hues as you helped him out of the last of his clothing, your breath catching at the sight of him.

His smirk returned as he settled over you, his body pressing against yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. “Think you can handle me?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze dark with desire.

“Try me,” you shot back, your eyes staring at his length with hunger, your tongue sensually licking your lips. “Maybe I’ll just have a bit of a taste first.” 

And Mattew would most definitely not say no to that. 

His smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and anticipation as he watched you. “A taste, huh?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly hum. “Go on, then. Show me what you’ve got.”

Matthew shifted, standing back slightly to give you room, his muscular frame still towering over you. His hands moved to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently as he watched you with a heated gaze, his breath hitching as your lips brushed over his skin, teasing.

Kneeling on the chaise, your eyes stayed locked on his as you leaned forward, your tongue flicking out to trace a slow, deliberate line along his length. The groan that escaped his lips was deep and guttural, his head falling back briefly before his dark eyes found yours again. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his grip in your hair tightening slightly as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling as you set a steady, purposeful rhythm using your hand as well.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, his thighs flexing as he fought to hold himself together. His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out a string of curses, his hands tightening in your hair to guide you just a little more firmly.

“You’re… unreal,” he managed, his voice breaking as his hips bucked slightly against you. “So fucking good.”

The power you held over him was intoxicating, the way he reacted to every flick of your tongue, every shift of your lips making you feel bolder. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him as deeply as you could, and the groan that tore from his throat was almost a growl.

“Shit,” Matthew rasped, his hands gripping your hair tighter as he pulled you back gently, his breathing uneven. His eyes were wild, his lips parted as he stared down at you, his voice low and thick with desire. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last.”

You smirked, your lips brushing over him one last time before you sat back, your hands sliding up his thighs. “Guess we’ll have to finish this another way, then,” you teased, your voice sultry as you pulled him back toward you.

Matthew didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist, shifting you effortlessly as he hovered over you again, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His body pressed against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your skin as he settled between your thighs, his cock hard and insistent against your core.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough as he lined himself up with your entrance, his gaze locking onto yours. “The best kind of trouble.”

You gasped as he pushed into you slowly, the stretch and heat of him sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. Matthew groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he filled you completely, one hand gripping the small sofa as though anchoring himself, while the other held you hip steady.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one calculated to drive you insane. The friction, the pressure, the way his body fit perfectly with yours—it was almost too much.

Your hands found his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you arched into him, meeting his rhythm with your own. “Matt,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra as the heat between you built to a fever pitch.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his movements growing faster, more desperate as his restraint began to slip. His lips found yours again, his kiss messy and unrelenting, his hand guiding your hip to meet each thrust as the tension between you coiled tighter and tighter.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling as you felt the wave of pleasure building inside you, your body clinging to his as he drove you closer to the edge.

“Not planning to. I’ve got you, baby,” Matthew murmured, his voice rough and full of promise as his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. The added sensation sent you spiraling, your release crashing over you in waves as you cried out his name, your body trembling beneath him.

Matthew followed just moments later, his thrusts growing erratic as he let go, his groan of release muffled against your neck as he shuddered above you. For a long moment, the two of you stayed tangled together, your bodies pressed close as you caught your breath.

When he finally pulled back, his lips brushing over your jawline in a series of soft, lingering kisses, he grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Guess I’m definitely staying on the naughty list this year,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. “Definitely. If that’s what being naughty feels like, I’m never getting off it.”

Matthew smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll stay there together,” he murmured, his voice warm and low as he nuzzled into your neck. “Merry Christmas.”

You smiled, your heart full as you tilted your head to meet his gaze, brushing a soft kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas, Matts.”

[funnyjb]

Look at the Stars

One of your twins is having a hard time sleeping one night. It was the night before one of joes games so some family was over. You guys were talking in the living room when Logan came down the stairs with his blankie and looks like he’s been crying.

“Mama?!”- Logan

He was crying

He ran up to you in the living room.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong.”- you

The burrow family counting both of joes siblings and their wife’s were sitting around waiting for Logan’s response

“I’m really scared. I heard a monster coming from the closet and noises in da walls.”- Logan

“Oh, baby. Those are just house noises. The air conditioning just turned on so that’s what’s causing the rumbling and I bet you something fell in the closet. There is a lot of junk in there.”- you said running your fingers through his hair

“I’m still really scared. I don’t want to go up there. It’s scary.”- Logan said putting his hand on your baby bump that has been growing these past 5 months

His head resting on your chest.

“Is mason still sleeping?”- you asked

Logan nodded his head.

You looked around the room and then at Joe.

He looked at you also trying to figure out what to do.

“Hey, I want to go show you something. I think it will make you feel much better.”- you smile

“Oktay.”- Logan

You got up slowly and then reached for Logan’s hand. He put his hand on top of yours and laced your fingers together.

“Let’s go.”- you whisper

You started walking to the glass sliding door that goes out to the backyard.

It was dark out. Some light illuminated the backyard from the house.

You both started walking further and into a big grassy area that looks out into the Cincinnati skyline from your house and a small river.

You picked Logan up and sawing him around you being careful of your bump.

“Look! You see those beautiful stars?”- you

“Yeah..”- Logan

“There are thousands of stars up in the night sky! Some of them even make funny shapes! Like, you see that one right there?”- you pointed a little bit towards the left

“That’s the Pegasus.”- you smile

Logan looked mesmerized

“These stars will protect you. They are up there so they can look out for you. Shining bright so you can see them. If you ever feel scared just look out the window or picture the stars in that wonderful brain of yours.”- you point at his head and laugh

Logan starts to laugh making your heart grow fonder.

“And know those stars will protect you. And also daddy and I are here to protect you too. We won’t let anything get you, ok? They aren’t real, they’re just made up in your mind.”- you smile trying to calm him down

“But why does ma mind do that?”- Logan

“Because your mind likes to play tricks on you, but you got to be the stronger person and say “it’s not real, it’s all made up.” And your mind will back off.”- you

“Okaty. Thank you, mommy.”- Logan

“Of course, baby. I’m always here for you, so is daddy and mason and even your sister.”- you

You give him a kiss on the cheek and decide to go back in. It was already 9:00.

You opened the door and walked in. Everyone was still sitting and talking.

“You ready to go to bed, Bubs?”- you

Logan nodded.

“Okay, let’s say goodnight.”- you

Logan started to wave his hand goodbye

“Bye Logan!”- Robin

“He is precious.”- Codi (joes sister in law)

You then walked over to Joe so he could say goodnight.

He got up and placed his hand on your arm and his other on Logan’s head and kissed him goodnight.

“Goodnight, my boy. Love you.”- Joe

He placed a soft kiss on Logan’s cheek then looked at you.

“You got him?”- joe

“Yeah, all good!”- you

“Good.”- joe

He then placed a peck on your lips.

You then walked up the stairs and into the boys room.

Mason was sleeping peacefully as you put Logan in his bed.

“Goodnight, baby. Love you to the moon and back.” - you

“Love you too, mommy”- Logan

You then placed a kiss on his forehead and got up. You moved from his bed to mason also placing a goodnight kiss on his cheek. Then exited the room slowly closing the door behind you.

You went back down stairs and into the family room.

“How is he?”- joe

“He’s ok now. He looked like he was going to fall right asleep when I put him down.”- you

You sat next to Joe on the couch. He put his arm around your shoulder and gave your head a kiss

“You are so good with them, y/n. It used to take forever to convince Joe that there was nothing there at night when he was younger.”- Robin laughed

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure everything was perfectly fine.”- joe

“He used to get scared of thunder and run into our bed too.”- Jimmy laughed

“Really guys? Ganging up on me?”- Joe

“Haha it’s ok, joe. I’ll protect you from thunder and scary monsters at night.”- you laughed

He looked down at you and started laughing and pulled you in closer.

“Thank you, baby.”- joe smiled

Joe was so grateful for you. He loved you ever since he laid eyes on you in college and now he gets to raise his kids with the love of his life. His heart was so full when he saw you take care of Logan tonight. He loved seeing you take on the mom role. He can’t imagine life without you and the boys.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You walk along the halls of the garishly large house. You suppose anything compared to your apartment is huge. Former apartment? You mourn the loss of your previous life as it starts to sink in. No long distracted by the bristly mustache of its delightful effect on you, you can’t help but descend slowly into despair. 

You narrow your eyes at the fabric strained over shoulders blades in front of you. All he had to do was say please and be polite. He couldn’t even give you his order then blamed you for not knowing.

How on earth are you supposed to know who he is? It isn’t your fault no one told you. Now you’re starting to get mad at them too. Bre really put you in it, didn’t she?” 

“Are you growling?” Lloyd asks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. 

“At me?” He snickers. 

“No... I should,” you grumble, “so, did you think about that sweater? Maybe a blanket? My nipples are so hard, they’re starting to hurt.” 

He stops and turns to face you. You walk straight into him and he grabs your shoulders, pushing you back to stand at arm’s length. He looks you up and down with a squint, his mustache slanting with his mouth. 

“I don’t negotiate but if I give you a blanket, do you promise to stay out of the way?” 

“Sir, if you opened the front door at this very moment, you would never see me again.” 

“Noted,” he says grimly, “go in here and stay.” He points to the door next to him as he releases you, turning the handle slowly, “don’t break anything. There should be a blanket, just don’t get too cozy.” 

“If I may, I think we would both be much happier if you let me go. Look at it this way, you got your rocks off, I got mine jangled, and now we both know a lot more about ourselves. You don’t have to ever see me again--” 

“Be quiet,” he reaches to pinch your lips shut, “Christ Almighty, you don’t shut the fuck up.” 

You try to talk past his fingers but just make a weird noise between your sealed lips. You shrug and raise your hands in surrender. He lets you go and sighs, waving through the open door. 

“Shutting fuck up,” you lift a hand in a salute and he quickly smacks it down. You shake your fingers out and hiss, “ow.” 

“Stop doing that,” he demands. 

“Fine,” you make a face and turn past him. At this point, you don’t care. This house is too cold and you don’t think he’ll take your advice about his central air bill. Looks like he can afford it, even if the ozone might suffer. “Erm, thanks?” 

“Whatever,” he grabs the door and shuts it behind you with a snap. 

You turn to it as you hear the lock click. His footsteps march off swiftly and you wiggle the handle. Drats. You could try a window but you’re hardly equipped for the descent. 

You face the room and look around. It’s nice. For New Jersey, which this isn’t. Amid the golden lamps, the velvet chaise, and the safari statues, a fluffy leopard print throw calls your name. You bound over to the clamshell chair and swipe it up, wrapping your shivering figure in the faux fur. At least you hope it’s not real. How would Floyd like it if someone skin his lip for, er, well... what could you even do with that? 

You sit and bask in the warmth. Oh, you almost feel human. If you didn’t smell of sweat and sex. What a pervert!  

It’s all so twisted the more you think of it. Worse is how much you enjoy it. Even if he’s a big dodo head, you have to admit, he knows what he’s doing. Well, compared to you, who doesn’t? You’ve seen it all but haven’t done so much. 

You peer around. It’s really tempting to play with that wooden tiger figurine or that metal orby thing with all the rings. You close your eyes and resist. How can he put you in this room and expect you not to go wild. Literally. It’s like being in a jungle. You gave him the benefit of the doubt about the mustache but this room alone assures you he’s living in some 70s exploitation fantasy. 

You curl up on your side in the chair and sigh. You close your eyes and think. This morning, everything was normal. Kind of. You almost long for the beginning of the spiral now that you’re spinning in it.

How long is he going to keep you here? And what happens after? Do you get your money back? Your apartment? Definitely, not your dignity. 

You don’t remember falling asleep but it’s a happy relief until consciousness breaks through like a nail through paper. You wake up with a lurch and nearly fall out of the chair, gaping up at the blue eyes boring down into you. You give Floyd with no F a sheepish smile. 

“Oh, hello, sir,” you sit up cautiously, “I’m happy to report I kept my hands to myself.” 

“You snore. Loud.” 

“Ah, well, I’ve had quite the day. I guess I really needed a nap--” 

“Get up,” he grabs you by the back of the neck and forces you to your feet. 

“Ow, eek,” you pull at his wrist, “did your meeting go okay?” 

“Why the fuck do you care?” He snarls. 

“I don’t, I was being polite,” you try to wriggle free, “judging by the attitude, it didn’t--” 

“What the fuck do you know about my business?” He snips. 

“As much as I wanna know. Nada,” you roll your eyes and manage to break free. “Ouch, bro.” 

“Bro?” He grimaces. 

“Dude, sir, whatever,” you huff and catch the blanket as it slips, “I’ve been nothing but nice, you know, but you’re starting to piss me off.” 

“I’m pissing you off?” He tilts his head and crosses his arms, “you--” 

“Got it. You can’t stand me but it didn’t stop you from diving into my southern hemisphere,” you sniff. 

The air roils with his agitation. You hug yourself defiantly as you cling to blanket and stare him in the face. He looks down at you, bringing a hand up to rub his chin. He sucks his teeth and reaches with his other hand to yank the blanket away. You cry out, hanging onto it as he lurches you.  

The blanket stretches between you in a tug-of-war. He nearly takes you of your feet as he gives it a hefty pull. You hold onto it, planting your feet but he easily keeps hold of his end. You use all your strength to add to the tension and as you see him go to yank again, you let go.

Lloyd staggers back as the blanket drops from his grasp. He flails and hits the chaise, crashing over it as he bounces off the cushion onto the other side. He groans as his feet remain atop the velvet. You inch over to look at him, his shoulders to the floor as his face strains. 

“You stupid little bitch,” he growls. 

“Sir,” you bite down on a smile as you stand over him, “why are you so mad? You won.” 

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 13

WC: 1040, Masterpost

"Up to meeting my friends?” Wally asked, brushing a hand through Danny’s hair.

Danny leaned into the touch with a happy noise. How tactile Wally could be was still one of Danny’s favorite things. “Some space first? The meeting went well, but it was a lot. I could just… use a few minutes.”

“Some space first,” Wally said indulgently.

He lead Danny to an actual room this time. It seemed to be a sort of lounge, but with the expanse of windows it could have easily been called an observation room. Danny happily settled on the couch facing the window, sinking down a little as he burrowed himself into Wally’s side. Wally draped his arm over Danny’s shoulder and tucked him close.

“You look at it so differently,” Wally said after a few minutes.

“Hum?”

“Space, you look at it like I don’t see you look at anything else.”

“Oh. It’s just… I’ve always loved space. And after my accident it was a dream out of reach. Being up here is something amazing.” It almost felt like flying again. He missed flying so much that some days he almost risked it

“Yeah? What made you love it?”

“The unknown,” Danny said without hesitation. “There’s so much about it that we just don’t know. Even now with literal Martians and space travel there’s just so much we don’t understand and never will. Someone could travel it for a thousand life times and still have new things to discover. There’s something just… I don’t know. That’s just always called to me.”

Wally gave a considering hum, fingers idly rubbing at Danny’s shoulder. “Okay. When you put it like that, I can get it. I wish you could have seen it the way you dreamed of as a kid.”

“No wishing,” Danny said reflexively. “Besides, this is a pretty great way to get to see it now.”

Wally looked back out at the view. “Yeah, it’s pretty great.”

Danny watched Wally for a moment, then the view, and then took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go meet your friends.”

“Okay,” Wally said, grinning widely. “So Nightwing will be there and I think Cyborg if he got done with updates? Darkstar will also be there, the original Wonder Girl.”

“Oh, I see, she was smart and chose a name that was different than her mentor,” Danny teased, mostly to see Wally blush red.

Which he did.

“Oh shut up.”

“I’m just saying, do you know how much I learned about race horses and race car drivers and greyhounds and runners to make up things to tell you two apart?”

“You could always just keep calling him Kid Flash, it’s what a lot of heroes do,” someone piped up from inside the room they had entered.

“You can shut up too, Darkstar,” Wally said cheerfully and went forward to hug her.

Danny had a moment of not exactly jealously but more appreciation of how pretty she was. He would kill for his hair to look half as good as hers… or Nightwing’s. Ancients were all of Wally’s friends so pretty?

“Everyone, Danny, my boyfriend. Danny, some of the Titans. Nightwing and Darkstar.”

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Nightwing said, stepping forward to offer his hand., which Danny shook. “Flash—”

“Kid Flash.” Darkstar coughed.

“—has has a lot to say about you. You wouldn’t believe how much he went on before you two even started to date. Nightwing, he’s so cute! But he won’t say yes, will he? Okay, about about this idea for a date?” Nightwing cut off laughing as Wally sped over and tried to put him in a headlock.

“Boys,” Darkside said, rolling her eyes fondly.

Danny chuckled. “At least they’re pretty to look at?”

“I suppose that’s at least something,” she agreed with a solemn nod before she laughed. “It is good to meet you. Flash really has had a lot to say. He was very nervous asking you out and then again the second date and then revealing his identity… everything, mostly.”

“I don’t mean to make him nervous.”

“It isn’t a bad thing. He cares about you a great deal and wants things to work is all. And Nightwing is always there to listen to him and offer advice, not that Flash should always take it.

“Hey!” Nightwing protested from where he now had Wally pinned to the sofa. “My advice is amazing!”

Wally snorted.

Nightwing pouted. “I’ll have you know I’m a huge mentor to the new generation of superheroes.”

“The word is doomed,” Darkstar in the driest tone imaginable.

Danny couldn’t help but wonder if he had had a hero mentor would things have been different. It was a useless thought, so he pushed it aside. What hero would have been able to help him with ghosts, anyways? They would have only gotten hurt.

“I’m sure some of your advice is good,” Danny said, making sure to sound extra soothing.

Nightwing squinted at him. “Sure you are.”

Danny smiled innocently.

Darkstar barked out a laugh. “I can see how you work with our Kid Flash. You two fill Danny in on the house rules, I’m going to go drag Cyborg away from his computers.”

“House rules?” Danny asked curiously.

“Uno,” Nightwing and Wally said at the same time with matching terrifying grins.

“You have house rules for Uno?” Danny repeated, incredulously.

“Yep,” Nightwing said as he pulled a box out from under the coffee table and tossed it to Wally. “See, it wouldn’t be fair to do the whole get to know you thing when you can’t know our names, so I figured we’d play a game and just chat! But we can’t just play regular Uno.”

“Superheroes cheat,” Flash said cheerfully as he shuffled the cards in a blur.

“So we have to have a lot of house rules about cheating.”

“And extra decks against counting cards.”

Danny tilted his head. “Some of those aren’t even Uno cards.”

“And that’s the other part of the house rules,” Nightwing said with a grin that Danny didn’t quite trust.

But it was just Uno, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

He would come to regret that thought in three hours when they were still on the same game.

---

AN: And we introduce a few more characters! Luckily they're already fond of Danny with how Flash has been about him!

Stay delightful, darlings.

[uhhlifeig]

Slasher - October 15 - word count: 659 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, but somehow, they’d all ended up sitting on the worn, sagging couch in Sirius’s flat, a questionable horror movie blaring from the TV. 

James was halfway through explaining his newest strategy for the next international Quidditch match to Lily (who, to her credit, looked like she was trying to care).

On the other end of the couch, Regulus was squished between Barty and Evan, who were bickering over whether or not cheap Slasher-esque movies were an acceptable form of cinema.

“They’re all just mindless gore,” Evan argued, leaning over Regulus, who looked like he regretted his life choices. “There’s no substance, no actual plot.”

“There’s a plot! You’re just not cultured enough to understand the subtle nuances,” Barty shot back.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Subtle nuances? Of what? A masked guy running around with a chainsaw?”

“Exactly,” Barty said.

“Right. Because nothing screams ‘nuance’ like blood splatters and screaming teenagers.”

“You just don’t get it, Moony,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “The horror genre is a refined art form, perfectly balancing suspense, tension, and, of course, a healthy dose of irrational decision-making.”

Remus gave him a deadpan look. “Right. Because when I think of the word ‘refined,’ I definitely think of chainsaws and hockey masks.”

Sirius grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Really?” Regulus muttered a beat later, glaring at the screen. “Of all the directions she could’ve gone, she chooses to run toward the guy with a chainsaw?”

“Darwinism at its finest,” Remus said dryly.

“Just once,” James piped up, “I’d like to see someone in one of these movies actually do something smart. You know, like, not investigate the creepy noise in the basement?”

Lily nodded. “Or, you know, call the police? Why is that never an option?”

“Because,” the dog animagus said, “where’s the fun in that? It’s more entertaining to watch them make terrible decisions.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You would think that.”

The movie continued to spiral into absurdity, with the remaining characters making one terrible decision after another. 

Evan, at some point, had fallen asleep on Regulus’s shoulder, and Barty looked about three seconds away from jumping into the screen to show the villain how to kill people properly.

And then the power went out.

The TV screen went dark, and the room was plunged into pitch blackness. Remus felt Sirius tense beside him.

“Oh, great,” James said. “I can’t wait for the part where we all die horribly in our own horror film. I’d, uh, get jumped and forget my wand somewhere- the couch, maybe- speaking of, where are our wands? And, um, Sirius would fall out of an open window because he ran into it and the curtains were down, and, er, Regulus, you’d drown, because you still can’t swim-”

“Potter, shut up,” Regulus grumbled. “No one’s dying.”

“Not yet,” Barty added helpfully.

“Can you not?”

Sirius shifted beside Remus, and even in the dark, Remus could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. 

“Y’know, Moons, this is exactly how those movies start.”

“You are not the final person, Sirius. Don’t even try.”

Sirius gasped dramatically. “How dare you!”

Lily snorted. “Sirius, no offense, but you’d be the first one dead.”

“Excuse me? I’d like to think I have at least enough survival skills to outlast James.”

“True, true. He’d be the first one dead.”

“Oi! I have excellent survival instincts, Lils!”

“Like the time you tried to sneak into Snape’s room and ended up falling into a pit of garbage?” Remus asked innocently.

“That was one time!”

“And the time you set the kitchen on fire while boiling water?”

James crossed his arms, pouting. “I’ve improved since then.”

Lily patted his shoulder. “Sure you have, dear.”

The lights flickered back on, revealing Peter holding a whole lot of wands. 

“Why’d you guys all leave your wands in the kitchen? Idiots. Oh, and Remus, how you you use the spinny-wavey thingy?”

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Fair Few Questions

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader

In which the Reader finds out Aziraphale and Crowley are Supernatural entities and has a fair few questions for them.

Requests are: OPEN

“So… let me get this straight,” you say, “those are not coloured contacts… Zira, you’re an Angel, and Crowley is a Demon.” You blink as though it will clear the shock and confusion from your system. “And not as in cutesy pet names ‘Angels’ and ‘Demons.’ Real, biblical, Heaven and Hell ‘Angels and Demons.’” Oh, you might just faint if you weren’t careful.

Crowley sticks his bottom lip out thoughtfully for a moment, swishing his wine around in his glass. “‘Bout sums it up, yeah.” 

You let out an exasperated sound that’s not quite a word but not quite a formless sound either. Your hand comes up to rub at your forehead. A habit you’ve grown into. You were going to get wrinkles if you weren’t careful.

“I don’t- what do you mean,” you reply, frustration eating at your brain. “I have so many questions.” 

Aziraphale smiles comfortingly, patting his lap. They’re both sitting on a two seater lounge next to each other- Crowley splayed out in his usual fashion. You let out a little noise of protestion before immediately caving and going to lay across the two of them, head in Aziraphale’s lap. 

The headache immediately eases, and you wonder just how much Aziraphale had to do with it. Anything was possible, right? And now you were thinking about it, all of your aches and pains mysteriously disappeared when he was near. Odd, but suddenly making a whole lot more sense.

“Oh, my dear,” he coos, one hand coming up to play with your hair softly. “I know it’s hard to understand. Humans aren’t quite as aware of us as they used to be.” He looked to Crowley, who was downing some more of his wine ever-so-helpfully. “Crowley, love, do you remember back at the beginning- the Human’s recognised us as Angels and Demons by sight? It’s certainly not like that anymore.” 

“Mm, right,” Crowley replied, laying a hand over your legs and shifting them more comfortably for you onto his lap and not seeming a might bit bothered by the idea that humans did not recognise him by sight anymore. “You have questions, then?” 

You flustered for a moment, looking between the two of them. 

“Are you allowed to answer things?” You ask cautiously. You didn’t want to get them in trouble. Could they get in trouble?

“Uh, sure,” Crowley shrugged, setting his empty glass down on the side table. He propped his elbow on the back of the lounge so he could face towards you. 

“Is… God real?” You asked with another moments hesitation. 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale replied, a reverent look on his face. “Most definitely, I’ve spoken with her once or twice.” 

You swallowed thickly and thought you might just move on from that line of questioning. The implications of what that meant were astronomical and way too much to focus on right now. 

“Do pets go to Heavan? Oh, please say yes.” 

Crowley chuckled and gave the outside of your thigh a comforting pat. 

“Yes, love, pets go to Heavan. I believe they have a rather nice park, too,” Aziraphale smiled, brushing his thumb between your eyebrows to ease the tension there.

“And- how old are you, really, then?” 

“Oh, we’re about six thousand years old,” Crowley says tiredly. You can empathise. Six thousand years is a long time. You’d be tired, too. You rub a hand down across your face, snuggling into Aziraphale’s tummy a little. “We’ve been here since the beginning.” 

“Since the beginning? Wait- does that mean- what about the Dinosaurs?” 

Crowley looks at you with a sly grin.

“That might’ve been us, I’m afraid, love.” You eye him in a way that says what-exactly-does-that-mean? To which he laughs, and replies, “it’s a joke Humanity hasn’t got yet.” 

You groan and cover your eyes, horrified by the information that has now been shoved at you. You don’t know what to do about any of this information. 

“Oh, dear, Crowley,” Aziraphale chuckles, looking down at you with such love. “I think we might have broke our favourite human.” 

Crowley squeezes your thigh and chuckles. “Mm, unfortunate. Might have to get a new one, eh, Angel? What do you think?”

“I rather think you might be right,” the literal Angel replies softly. You glare up at the two of them between your fingers, “but I do quite like this one.”

Crowley reaches over to pull one hand away from your face, bringing it to his lips to kiss softly. You cheeks heat at the intimate look in his eyes. His, you now realise- entirely real eyes and not at all contact covered. You lose yourself in them for a moment as he rubs your knuckles, lips pressing into the skin.

“Will you tell me something?” You ask, brushing a finger over Crowley’s cheek. “Something interesting you’ve done. I’m sure six thousand years worth of stories is a lot.” 

“Mm,” Crowley replied thoughtfully. “I suppose we do. As long as it’s not the fourteenth century. I hated the fourteenth century,” he makes a face. You filed that away to ask about another time.

“Oh, I know,” Aziraphale said, cheeks about to burst with the strength of his smile. “Shall we talk about the court of Henry the eighth?”

Crowley lets out a barely contained bark of a laugh. “Oh, yes. Now that was an interesting assignment. Bit close to the fourteenth, though,” he added with a hint of a warning.

“You’ll live,” Aziraphale brushed him off as he began to tell you all the interesting tid-bits that only someone who was there at the time could tell you about. 

The three of you talked for several hours about different eras of history. You asking questions, Aziraphale being quite factual, and Crowley adding all the juicy facts and drama into the mix to keep things interesting. 

As it turned out, they had a lot of information about a lot of things, and you were looking forward to asking them questions about everything under the sun, before the sun, and everything in between. 

Heavens, you really did love them. 

And they loved you too.