#spread kindness like confetti | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

puckinghischier · 19 days ago

Note

celebrations with luke though after the game. like i don't even care even just cuddles i feel like he'd be so happy especially if you were there to witness the goal, he'd have looked for you in the stands to see you cheering and he'd just be so happy. ugh.

you’d rush out of there as fast as you could, already on the phone ordering all kinds of snacks and goodies to surprise him with after the game. you’d know you have a little extra time, considering he’d be held up with media for a good while after they hit the locker room.

you’re stopping by several stores on the way back to your apartment. bakeries, grocery stores, restaurants, and even a little party store for silly hats and confetti poppers. you text jack to make sure luke is distracted and unable to leave until you send him a green light text, not wanting him to walk in on the middle of you arranging his celebration.

you let jack know you were almost ready, putting the final touches on the junk food spread. you have just enough time to throw a red party hat on your head and grab a confetti popper before you hear the door opening, ready to celebrate his goal and their win.

the second he rounds the corner into the kitchen, you pull the string on the popper and watch his small jump backwards, red confetti falling all over his damp curls.

“surprise!!! congratulations lukey!!!” you exclaim, running towards him and slamming your small frame into his large one. he laughs at your enthusiasm, hugging you back just as tightly, picking you up just enough that your feet aren’t touching the floor before sitting you back down.

you pull back, looking up at him with a proud, toothy grin. he returns your lovey look, smiling just as wide as he looks down at you. “proud of you, lucas,” you tell him, using the full name that isn’t really his own, simply because you know it irks him. he rolls his eyes at the name, but his smile never falters.

“thanks, you big dork,” he responds, flicking the paper hat on your head, his cheeks only slightly red from all the attention you’re giving him. he moves his face down to give you a short, but sweet, kiss.

the second his lips detach from yours, you step back from him, preventing yourself from getting too distracted and lost in his kisses. “so, let me show you tonight’s gourmet meal,” you grab his hand, leading him to the island that’s covered in every single one of his favorite treats.

you have cookies from his favorite bakery, brownies from his favorite cafe, several pizzas from his favorite pizza place, all of his favorite kinds of chips and snacks, and in the freezer you have a carton of every single ice cream flavor he likes. it looks like a kids birthday party gone wild, but you didn’t care. he scored his first goal of the season tonight. he deserves junk food and tacky hats.

“oh my god, coach is gonna kill me if he finds out this is what i ate after a game,” were the first words out of his mouth, eyes taking in all the greasy food and sugary treats.

“well, he can get over it. you deserve it tonight. i went through all this trouble to get your favorites, so just indulge me and eat them, yeah?” you scold him slightly as you take the cone-shaped hat off of your head, not caring about what the coach or team nutritionist has to say about it. it’s not like he won’t have a chance to work it all off in the next couple of days anyways.

you hand him a plate and watch him load it up with as much food as it can hold, making his way over to the couch where you have his favorite movie queued up and ready to play.

“the secretariat? oh you really do know how to make a guy feel special, huh?” he half jokes, a hint of genuine excitement in his voice.

you join him on the couch and shush him while you press play, your own plate of treats sat in front of you. the two of you snack and watch, eventually finding your way on top of him to lay on his chest as he lays on his back, head turned just enough to still see the tv. his hand drags lazily up and down your back as yours traces light shapes on his clothed pectoral muscle.

the two of you had been quiet for some time, enjoying each others company and watching the movie, but luke’s voice breaks the marathon of silence.

“you know, m’glad you were there to see it. felt nice being able to look up and see you cheering for me after i scored,” he tells you, not taking his eyes off of the tv screen.

“of course i was cheering for you. are you crazy? i’ve been planning this for weeks, just waiting for the moment to finally happen. you’ve been trying so hard to get your first goal, everyone could see it,” you move to rest your chin on his chest, loving the relaxed look on his face. “but i’m glad i could be there, too. was so scared you were gonna score on the road and i was gonna miss it. well, miss it in person anyways. i’m always watching.”

he turns to look at you, not being able to keep his lips from stretching into another smile. it’s a common occurrence, he realizes. he can hardly look at you without smiling anymore, always filled with so much love and adoration for you he doesn’t know what else to do.

“know you are. can feel it every night,” he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, letting his hand linger on the ends of it, twirling it around his fingers.

“i am super proud of you, y’know that, right? not saying it just because. i meant it when i said everyone can see how hard you’ve been trying, and it’s a well deserved goal,” you tell him again, never missing a chance to let him know just how proud of him you really are.

he legitimately blushes this time, always being one to shy away from praise. you reach a hand up to tap the tip of his nose, smiling when he scrunches it and turns his head in protest. “stop booping my nose, you’re gonna ruin my reputation one of these days,” he swats your hand away, dropping the strand of hair.

“luke…what reputation? everyone knows you’re a big softie,” you deadpan, causing a pout to form on his lips. “plus, there’s no one here except me and you right now.”

“i’m supposed to be a big scary hockey player, i can’t have my girlfriend booping my nose all the time,” he argues, whining through his pout.

“aww, baby,” you fake sympathy, “you are a big scary hockey player, don’t worry. you showed that net and that goalie who was boss tonight.” you reach up to pat his cheek.

he huffs, not appreciating the little laugh you let out after your sentence.

you stop your chuckles, easing yourself back into the previous conversation. “i’m just kidding. but really, luke, i’m proud of you. and so is jack. glad he was the one who got the assist and you could experience this with him,” you tell him earnestly, loving the moment the brothers shared on the ice after the goal. “your whole team is proud of you, too. you’ve been playing so well lately. you deserve to be celebrated every night, but especially tonight.”

he leans in for another kiss, ignoring the awkward angle of his neck, bringing his hands down to push you up his body by your ass, bringing your face closer to his. the kiss is soft and slow, no rush, just raw emotions conveyed through it.

once the two of you pull back to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against his.

“proud to have you by my side through all this too, you know? couldn’t do it without you,” luke whispers into the small space between your lips. “mean it. you do so much for me, and i wouldn’t want to come home to anyone else tonight. or any night. you’re more than my good luck charm, y/n, you’re my rock. my calm in a storm. my steady hands on a sloppy goal attempt,” his words cause your own blush to paint your cheeks. “just glad i landed this shot, most of all. don’t know where i’d be if i hadn’t.”

you can feel the tears prick at your eyes, not wanting to be a blubbering mess on what’s supposed to be his night.

“alright you big sap, this is your night, you can’t make me cry before we even get eat all the ice cream i bought,” you sniffle, bringing a hand up to dab at the corners of your eyes with a wet laugh.

luke’s eyes widen, face suddenly brighter than it had been all night. “wait, you bought ice cream!?” is all you hear as you’re being lifted off his chest and dropped onto the couch while he slips out from under you, rushing to the the freezer, your sentimental moment long forgotten at the promise of a frozen treat.

286 notes · View notes

inknopewetrust · 2 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝—𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐞��𝐥 [𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 3.5k]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

The band had long ceased playing.

As the strings of confetti laid scattered on the floor and the lingering drips of spilled champagne stained the linens, the new year had rung in with a start. London was electric; buzzing in the underground of the darkest shadows—there was nothing more thrilling.

For a deal had been struck as smiles beamed.

And Alfie Solomons had never felt so alive when the guests dispersed and he sat at a vacant table in the golden light. A cigar burning in his hand, the man leaned back on his chair in victory.

The tendrils of smoke swirled in the air; dancing around his face and into the room. It carved him as a Prometheus of men—Camden’s king that gave and protected those who needed it most.

He intrigued you, Alfie Solomons.

A ruggedly handsome man with the mouth of a foul sailor. He had eyed every person in the room before they could clock him but he was never difficult to miss, not after how much Tommy had talked him up.

It would be easy, he said, charming the socks of Alfie to warm a deal between the two sleuths.

Easy was an understated word when the night had worn thin and all you had done from your table of rich ladies and their scrawny men was stare at him. He’d caught your eye one too many times as you tried to gain his attention throughout the night—but he never made his way to you.

You knew there was no doubting he knew you worked with Tommy, that you were being used in a way to sweeten prospects with batting eyelashes and a dress that dipped a little too low in the front. Alfie had seen that before. The desperate nature of a con too important to lose.

It was why when the guests had left the building and the music had stopped he remained. You’d left to powder your nose, he’d heard your excuse to a woman at your table who happened to be the wife of an employee. He sent his snakes far too. Tommy wasn’t the only one who played for keeps.

When you re-entered the space, Alfie sat at the table with the smoke billowing around him in puffs. His cane slanted against the table while his legs spread wide, thick thighs resting themselves on the chair in welcome.

He teased absentmindedly. He was erotic when he tried not to be, more so as you looked upon him from your perch in the hall.

You thanked Tommy endlessly for sending you. This line of business wasn’t hard work when the goal was a specimen like Alfie was. You stood in the doorway with confidence faltering under the surface and leaned against the wall as seductively as you could imagine.

Yet Alfie said nothing.

He continued to smoke at his cigar with the knowledge of you standing there. You felt your heartbeat pick up.

You shifted on your feet, crossing them together and pulling your hands behind your back. It popped your hip out to the side and for a brief moment, you swore Alfie’s chest lifted in a scoff but he sat too far from you. You truly couldn’t tell.

He smoked for another eternity, a minute perhaps before inhaling dramatically and blowing it out again.

“And to what,” his messy drawl was thick, “do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss—“

“I think you know why I’m here,” you answered in kind. He shrugged his shoulder casually.

“Perhaps. But Tommy ain’t exactly a friend,” his eyes narrowed a bit. “If you know what I mean?”

“He’s not asking to be your friend, Mr. Solomons. He wanted to ensure the deal was final.”

Alfie stuck the cigar between his lips. “I see he won’t be doin’ that ‘emself now?”

“No,” you smiled abashedly. It was cute, he thought, how you played so innocently at this larger game. “He knew your interests lie elsewhere.”

The smoke blew once more. He put out the cigar on a glass tray on the table before beckoning you with two fingers.

You might as well have floated against the wooden floors of the room as you approached. Hips swaying, shoes echoing in the room. You traversed the tinsel and confetti and spilled champagne to meet his table and rest in front of him. Alfie was shameless in the way he let his eyes wander. Slow and unforgiving, he could see everything if he wanted to and this was a kind of gift from Tommy—you.

You were close to the operations of the Shelby’s. He had heard about this woman, as beautiful as you, being as ruthless in Birmingham as the brothers. He knew your name, your family, your history even if he played it off as not. A childhood friend, Alfie supposed, brought on to pull strings in ways only women knew how.

He imagined you like Polly—cunning with a tongue and if you let the slit in your dress draw apart, maybe with other bits of you as well.

“The word from Thomas?” Alfie asked gruffly. You set your small bag down on the table beside you and rested a hand on your waist.

“Three boats from Camden Yard every morning for a month,” you reminded him. The details of the deal were boring, listed off like a grocery list of things to do or get and the most relief you felt that entire evening is when you finally stopped talking.

“How does he plan to have the payment delivered?”

“Through me.”

Alfie hummed. He looked around the room, mind already aware of the deal being sealed and delivered to Tommy by one of his own men in that very moment. He’d sent one of his finest to Birmingham on the off chance the one Tommy had sent was less than capable.

Alfie could admit he was wrong in such an assumption.

“You know,” Alfie shifted in his seat to widen his legs. The expanse of his stance, the seat directed towards you had your eyes trailing his torso, falling square to his crotch and back up to him. His arms rested at his thighs. Hands flat and rough. “This is our new beginning, here in Camden.”

“Shana Tovah, Mr. Solomons.”

“Did he ask you to study? He knew it was a holiday. The Shelby’s aren’t Jews.”

“I think you underestimate our worldly knowledge, Mr.—“

“Alfie,” he corrected.

“—Alfie,” you repeated. “Birmingham isn’t a shithole all the time. We are cultured people.”

Alfie smiled slightly, turning his head away to gaze at the entry way. “Eh,” he grunted. “It’s all shit if you really think ‘bout it.”

You looked down at him as he sat and he peered back at you. His eyes shadowed by his hat in the shimmer of the light.

“Why you still ‘ere?” He tested. “I can’t imagine you sneakin’ around for some challah when the cooks have gone on home.”

You adjusted your stance on your leg causing your dress to ripple. His eyes flickered in the dark.

“Tommy send you to seduce me, treacle?”

Treacle. You’d never heard someone use that word before. You ran your tongue over your lip as it jutted out to clear the dryness that manifested.

You weren’t nervous, per se. But Alfie was a strong, loud man who was more than capable of sending a message to his friends, or enemies, without remorse.

It enticed you—He enticed you greatly. The danger, the selfless anger that rested under his thick skin.

“No,” you answered honestly. “I fear I may be doing that myself.”

“There ain’t anyone here any more.” Alfie only looked at you. His eyes underneath the shadows swallowed you whole. They drew you in and spit you back out.

“Oh?” You feigned obliviousness. You knew everyone had left as well.

Alfie rubbed his hands over his thighs in warmth. His fingers danced along the tops of them.

“Step closer,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, you stepped closer and closer until you stood between his open legs and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You could smell the cigar, his scent strong and burly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard what kind of man I am.”

“No more horrible than the rest.”

“What would Thomas say, eh?” He leaned his head backwards to look up at you. His fingertips twitched against his pants in want. “That his little friend is so willing.”

“I didn’t say I was willing.”

Alfie’s smile barely ghosted his face. Amused, he flicked down to your breasts and back up to your face.

“Your body says otherwise, love.”

He could see your nipples pert against he fabric of your dress. Your chest rose and fell erratically.

“Tommy sent me to ensure the deal was final, that is all, Alfie. I do not need to entertain you to see it through.”

“But you chose this beautiful dress,” he lifted a hand dramatically. It grazed the side of your body to feel the silken fabric that laid over the parts he wished to see further. “And these women,” he motioned to the empty room, “don’t dress like you.”

“Well they follow a different code than I.”

“And what else does that code allow?”

Alfie had yet to drop his hand. It played at the fabric that hung at your hip. He pinched it between his fingers and tugged gently.

“It depends on what the caller is asking of her,” you proposed and took his other hand into your own.

His hands were bigger than yours by a mile. Rough and calloused from his life, Alfie allowed you to overturn it and caress it in your touch. He watched your eyes, not your motions as you dragged his hand up toward your body, resting his hand not tightly gripping your dress on the space on your chest not covered by clothing.

Your skin was hot to the touch. It burned him as he felt the softness so different from his own.

“I do feel a bit cold, yeah?” He questioned and in an instant brought you down onto his lap and in a scramble of legs to straddle him.

Legs now on either side of his thick thighs, you sunk to rest your core where the zipper of his trousers began to bulge.

Alfie breathed you in deeply. His gripped turned bruising as you wrapped one arm around him and the other hand reseted on his chest.

“Why Mr. Solomons,” you snickered, “this is a bit forward.”

“Says you.” His hand slipped from you uncovered chest to one of your breasts and squeezed then soothed over the pebbling bud. “Don’t know the game your playin’, love. It’d be a dangerous one for a girl like you.”

You smiled at him. Tilting your head into his, you shuttered a breath as he slipped the dress from your shoulder and let the fabric fall to reveal you to him. You shifted your hips on top of his to feel his growing sensation.

“I know my game, Alfie,” your lips barely grazed his. He chased it, nipping your bottom lip and for a moment you thought yourself crazy for acting such a way with a man like him. “Do you know yours?”

Alfie responded by meeting his lips with yours abruptly. The hand on his chest cupped his face while his simply wandered along you. His beard was long and tickling your skin as he begged to dominate your mouth with his own. You tipped his hat off and laid it on the table before pulling away with a pop.

“My God, woman,” Alfie mumbled. You rolled your hips against his softly. He moved both of his hands to grasp the sides of you and encouraged you to grind against him. Your dress fell further down your chest and bore your luscious tits to him.

You entranced him with your movements. The roll of your body, the jiggle of your breasts as you moved. He grew hard under you and his palms wandered further to gather your dress at your waist.

“You were prepared, eh?” He commented lowly at the absence of your underwear.

“I took my chances.”

One of his thumbs met your core and found your clit quickly to rub circles at the pace of your thrusts. Your body jolted at the feeling. You were out of your mind, letting him pleasure you. Yet you didn’t say no. You couldn’t say no when you were so enraptured by his entire presence.

He was thick and heavy in his trousers which only stirred you further.

Alfie circled your clit ferociously. Meticulous and rapid, he wound up the coil within you to the point of no return. His thumb gathered the wetness greedily. You cupped his head, nearly swaying him as you lost yourself and inclined your head backward as your eyelids drooped.

“Alfie…” your voice was barely above a whisper as it hitched. He had found a good spot. One so tender and reactive. He grinned slyly.

You moved to undo the belt of his pants and slid it out from the loops the best you could. He hadn’t worn suspenders or an absurd amount of vests to add to the layers. Fingers deftly popping him open and carving the lines of his cock with your hand, you worked him out of the trousers and into your palm.

“You feel plenty warm to me,” you suggested with a purr.

Alfie sat up straighter. The advantage catching the back of your neck and drawing your lips to his again. You groaned into his mouth; savoring the feeling of your lips on his as his breath mingled with yours.

You stroked him lazily in your hand while he was more deliberate in pleasuring you.

Alfie’s mouth trailed along the sides of your neck. He left foul, bruising kissed on the column as he made his way down to your tits again and took a nipple inbetween his mouth. He pulled back, gently biting it between his teeth and letting go with a tug.

“You were right, Alfie,” you breathed in heavily. Rolling your hips against his hand, you had the sudden urge to have him inside of you. “I have heard the stories about the kind of man you are.”

“And? I don’t suppose you give a fuck about them now, love.”

“No,” you smiled shyly. “But I would be lying if I wasn’t interested in the things I’d heard.”

Your ran you thumb over the head of his cock to wipe at the cum that had leaked out of hum. Smoothing it over and down his shaft, he might as well have shivered at the sensation.

“I am more interested in the man I haven’t heard about. The one like this.”

Alfie quirked a brow and stopped his movements. He helped lift you slightly, taking control of his dick as his hand replaced yours and ran it along your slit.

“You wanna be my lover? A gy—“

You shushed him with a kiss. “I didn’t say that, Mr. Solomons. It’s not something anyone needs to know of.”

“Too dangerous, treacle.” He swiped his cock’s head along you clit and you could feel the blood rushing, the heartbeat that pulsed as hard as the one in your chest. “I’m not in the business of leading women as beautiful as you to an early grave.”

You shook your head gently. “I don’t believe you.”

Alfie hummed and with it, pushed the head of himself into your aching pussy that had been warmed by his previous ministrations and he was taken by the way your mouth fell agape. Shoulders relaxing and falling as you took him in as much as you could before pushing further; further and further until there was nothing more left to take of him and you took him fully.

“No,” Alfie said deeply. His chest rumbled with the word and echoed as far into the room as it could reach. He didn’t allow you to adjust yourself on his cock. Alfie held your hips down and made you sit there, still.

“I don’t believe myself either.”

He relished the way your cunt swallowed him. Alfie’s mind wondered if all of your holes could take him the same and in the times you’d come to Camden to collect the payments on behalf of Tommy, he’d be able to explore all the scenarios that plagued his mind as you clenched down on him and gripped him tightly. So warm and inviting, he could stay like that forever and if this was the feeling of your first meeting, he wasn’t romantic enough to consider how he’d feel after your tenth, twentieth, or more.

Alfie’s mind traveled to you kneeling under his desk and taking his cock in your mouth; feeling you spread out before him on a table in the distillery room and watching you gush around him. He could see himself under covers in the dark pleasuring you with his mouth and the taste of you on his tongue. In the tub with your back against his and the water splashing over the sides and if he was lucky, as the sun broke the horizon in Margate in his house by the sea.

As he let you sit on him and rake your fingers through his short hair, he caressed your sides and backs of your thighs as the muscles trembled.

“When you collect the money,” he whispered as much as a man like he could, “come straight to the bakery. Go to the office and if I am not there, do not let anyone in who knocks.”

“Afraid of what your men will do to me?” You questioned and his grip tightened.

“They’d be fuckin’ idiots to try.”

You learned quickly that Alfie Solomons loved to kiss you. He enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his and the selfless way you let him take control of you. He pushed the boundaries of comfort and with his cock still inside of you hard and pulsing with want, it was hard to imagine letting another man touch you in the same way.

“You come straight to me. You take the money and I’ll leave you walkin’ funny till you return to those fuckin’ Shelby’s so they know who you belong to.”

You pulled Alfie in close around his shoulders. He loosened his grasp on your hips as you lifted yourself up. His cock coated in your slick slid along your walls and before you lost him completely, you sunk down on him again and he guided you with ease every bounce you made.

You barely squeaked as his dick filled you. Thick and long, he was exactly as you’d imagined him to be based on the man you’d heard so much about. His large thighs supported your weight and he complained not about any part of you that you’d deem less than perfect.

Letting Alfie maneuver you, you leaned back onto his thighs and your hands placed themselves on his knee caps and allowed the space between you to be viewed completely by the man. He watched you sink onto him. Watching as you took him with languid rolls and calculated moves that barely drew a sweat on your brow. He held onto you tightly and helped speed up the movements as he pulled you into him once twice and then repeatedly.

The sounds of your pleasure were lewd. For anyone could waltz in and see you both openly fucking in the dining hall of the beautiful building but they wouldn’t. The sun had long set, the doors long had been locked and all that was left was you and Alfie left to settle a score.

And it was building rapidly.

Too much. It was overstimulating—the force of his actions and the long drawl of his cock against your plush walls. You were soaked. Soaking him and his trousers that were barely pushed down enough to set him free. Your body trembled as the quick revelation of your orgasm approached. Gripping his knees so tightly your nails dug into the caps, you couldn’t help the yelps turned into weak, whimpering moans that spilled from your lips.

Alfie muttered words of mere nothing at the quake of your thighs. Your stomach’s muscles tightened and with a jolt, you lurched forward and clung onto his shoulders as your release reached its peak. Your pussy clenched down on his cock with all the strength it could in the moments between your tremors. Alfie sore disorienting profanities as your orgasm threatened his own.

He wanted to pull out. He didn’t need more on his plate than what he already had and certainly not any child that bound him to the Shelby LLC for eternity. Alfie huffed, breathing through his teeth as he lifted you up slightly and barely managed to empty himself onto your stomach and bits of your dress.

You watched as his release waded down your body and his hold loosened greatly at his finish.

“So,” Alfie spoke lowly. “Do I have your word?”

“Of what?” You responded breathlessly. He grinned at your fucked out face. The way you could barely hold yourself upright even if it wasn’t the most intense fuck either of you had ever had.

“You come straight to me, got it?”

And well, Mr. Alfie Solomons didn’t have to ask twice.

Happy almost end of Kinktober! I’m trying my best to get all the fics out that I’ve promised. I’ve never written for Alfie before but I love the character so much that I’d thought I’d give it a try. As always, it is so much appreciated that you leave a like, a comment OR a reblog (I like the last two the best!) thank you for reading and free to check out any of my other works.

#alfie solomons #alfred solomons #peaky blinders #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons smut #tom hardy #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #fanfiction #peaky blinders alfie solomons

334 notes · View notes

strayflowersstarsandlove · 1 month ago

Text

Scooby-Doo (bangchan)

random author's note: idk bangchan has been bias wrecking me so hard lately and i had this whole scenario in my head for weeks help like man's so fucking sweet and fine ugh

WARNING: heaps of soft!chan content ahead proceed with caution ok bye

"Y/n...I don't -i don't think this is right?". Entirely too cute for his own good, Chan sits across from you, his legs spread apart on the floor as he stubbornly tries to piece together a festive banner made of crepe paper, struggling quite a bit with how much it's creasing and ripping at the edges.

He holds up a scraggly piece of paper and looks confusedly at you while you try your best not to laugh at him.

It's a late afternoon, only one day ahead of the charity event that's going to be held at the café you work at. Your manager had kindly asked you to help her out with decorations but considering how cramped and cold the staff backroom is at the place, you decided to bring a few arts and crafts materials at home.

And Chan being Chan he wanted to help because of course he did.

The whole project is meant to raise awareness and funds for young kids with disabilities, the main charity organisation had reached out to your manager just the other day and you loved her for jumping at the chance to help out and let them host an event at the café, you really did.

What you loved a little less was how crazy it was driving you trying to make the decorations from scratch. Perhaps you had overestimated just how capable you are. Just an itty bitty tiny little bit.

"Can you believe we've been sitting here for over 2 hours and only got like ... 3 banners done? We're screwed", you chuckle, readjusting your uncomfortable bum on the confetti and shiny paper covered floor all around you, multiple coloured markers and scissors and glitter jars scattered all over, along with failed prototypes of various types of decorations.

"Mmh ... we're the dream team aren't we?", Chan giggles embarassed, looping a string through the more intact piece of another banner, finally succeeding without it falling apart: "look!! It worked! Finally!", he exclaims enthusiastically, looking so proud of himself.

How fucking cute is he! Your heart literally melts at the sight, a soft thrumming against your chest in seeing this beautiful man being so hyped over arts and crafts.

He didn't even have to come and help. He had so little free time you felt so bad for occupying his sparse nights off with this project but he had insisted on helping you so much you just couldn't refuse. Besides, him tackling you to the ground in a fit of tickles and giggles really didn't give you much of an option to say no.

You sigh contentedly, just looking at his progress and his satisfied little face as he tries to proceed onto the next banner, "hey do we have blue glitter? I kind of want to add some to this one", he asks, perusing his perimeter in search of the blue glitter glue tube, which you locate at the corner of the couch and pass it over to him, "ah there it is, thanks baby", he mumbles, still concentrated on his task but grateful enough to you that he kisses your hand once before taking the glue.

Endeared, awash in warmth deep within your belly, you tilt your head to the side and smile softly at him: "Channie ... make love to me".

Pursing those bratz doll lips in a pout, Chan looks at you stupefied, "I'm sorry what?", he says in just a murmur, blinking at you confusedly. You giggle lightly, struggling to hide the blush you know is forming atop the apples of your cheeks, though you are resolute. Utterly convinced you just made the right call.

And so you reteirate, staring straight into his kind eyes: "I want you to make love to me, if that's alright with you".

It shouldn't come as the biggest surprise, really. You had been dating for a little while and had been intimate before, just not to the fullest extent. He knew you weren't experienced in the slightest and he never NEVER pushed you beyond your limits. Always respectful and continuosly asking for permission he had slowly taken your hand and guided you through intimacy up until the extent you felt comfortable to each time.

You distintictly remember confessing you had never had sex with a guy in your very few mild, fleeting past relationships, you can still clearly conjure up the soft look on his face, the acceptance in knowing you were a little shy and a lot scared, mostly you were afraid he was going to give up on you cause you weren't willing to just experience your first time so casually and he'd get impatient and insufferable like the person you were dating previously.

But Chan was ...well he was just Chan. He was your best friend before he was your boyfriend, he already knew how fragile your heart was and how you needed alllll the reassurance and safety and stability before going all in.

"You have nothing to worry about, I'm not going anywhere whether you want to eventually have sex with me or not. If and when you want to, then I'll be just so honoured and grateful you trusted me enough".

Slow, baby steps. A natural progression in your relationship that bloomed and flourished into something so beautiful and safe, loving him came as easy as breathing.

You had given him no timeline and down the road he just gauged your reactions to him and how far you were willing to go each and everytime either of you initiated anything, the more comfortable you grew the more you felt like your confidence in both yourself and this relationship grew along with it.

Chan's whole incredolous face lights up in the biggest, most endeared smile, eyes squinting, perfect teeth on full show and those dimples to die for digging at his cheeks, "are you ... oh my god out of nowhere? are you .. are you sure? like one hundred percent?", he inquires and you nod in agreement, your heartbeat feeling both very steady and erratic at the same time.

A brief moment of silence falls upon you and Chan just looks so ridiculously elated and gobsmacked he just starts giggling adorably, "oh gosh c'me here, let me give you a hug, I need to hold you", he exclaims all smiley amd gushy which only makes you weak in the knees.

Therefore you crawl.

Across the floor and then in his lap, his arms enveloping your whole body the second you wrap yourself around him, arms lacing around his neck, legs around his torso, your flushed cheeks buried in his neck.

"Ooh you're blushing, how cute", Chan coos, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, tickling your skin, his hands roaming on your back in gentle caresses, "are you positive you really want to?", he asks one more time, clearly trying to assess if it was a spur of the moment thing or if you're actually sure about your decision, "yeah, yeah I promise I am", you reassure, swallowing the slight nervousness down your throat.

Chan cups your cheeks very gently and kisses you in between both of your guys' smiles, he holds your face and your neck delicately as he kisses you more and more, those gorgeous soft lips melting into your mouth again and again, sweet sighs escaping him when you reach for his hair, tangling the longer, curlier ends at the nape of his neck in between your fingers, unconsciously straddling him in the process, which does provoke a tension in his pants.

"Baby-", Chan breathes in, still a whisper away from your lips, "i'm getting so hot", he chuckles, the tips of his ears going redder and redder, "I'm going to take off my shirt okay?", you nod briefly and detach yourself from him just enough so he can remove his t-shirt.

He's statuary. That much you already knew. You love looking at his bare skin, taking in the hard work he consistently put into sculpting his chest and his abs, your fingers already twitching to reach out and run all over him.

You also really appreciate how he subtly still asked for your consent and proceeded to take one layer off first, putting himself in a more vulnerable position first so you didn't have to.

Eyes sparkling while looking at you looking at him, he guides you right back to his chest so you can press yourself up to him and kiss and pat and tickle his exposed skin, which obviously has him in shambles and giggles in no time: "hahaha that's so tickly help haha", he squeaks and oh my god you could not love him more right now. So silly and cute and lovable, diffusing your nervousness without even realising that.

You kiss some more,a little more sloppily, now his hands tentatively sneak up the back of your shirt, resting warmly on your spine, fingertips brushing against the clasp of your bra, and the second you shiver from his touch he stops, making it a point to look at you in your seemingly drunken eyes: "you know you can stop me anytime right? no actually ...it's not that you can ...you have to", he speaks solemnly, seriousness downing on his face.

"I think we should have a safe word. Something that either of us can use at any point and that'll make us snap right out of it", he continues, looking intently at you, "oh? s-sure?", you agree, continuosly pleasantly surprised at just how caring and mature he is, "of course you can just say hey Chan stop right now but if it makes it easier I reckon we should come up with something immediate that can be used whenever no questions asked, like I don't know ...you say apples and we stop. No matter what, we stop".

The corners of your lips stuck into a genuine, bright smile, you nod enthusiastically, "apples! I like the sound of that!", you comment, reassurance seeping in inside your veins. Chan leans in to kiss you once more, absolutely loving the way your body is warm and so close to his his heart might just leap out of his chest and smack against yours.

He hums pensively, hands crawling up your bra straps, "actually ...perhaps not apples. Let's find something else, please ...", he says slowly, "why not apples? You don't like fruit?", you tease jokingly and he giggles in response, though he frowns too, in a joking matter as well: "I love fruit! But it's not going to work ... you've got apples there ...my brain might just short circuit", he whines in a pout, gesturing at the general direction of your chest.

The laugh bursting out of you is potent and stress relieving to no end, you physically double down on him, laughing his ass out as well, arms barely holding you from the vibration. It takes you both a little bit to fully calm down, the smitten smiles stay though, as if permanently etched onto your faces.

"Alright alright ...what about ...Scooby doo? Is it outlandish enough?", you offer along with an encouraging nod, immediately reflected by Chan who vigorously agrees, "Scooby doo! I love that. Yes let's go with that!" he declares, promptly peppering your face with kisses until you're a giggly mess again.

Truly the silliness of it all makes your heart feel so light, this is so like Chan, you think to yourself, to make you feel so at ease and comforted, to turn something serious and important like communication and make it fun and spontaneous and nice.

You only start to fully someber up once Chan starts kissing your neck a little more feverishly, you slowly realise he also cupping your bra, fondling very gently, and that's fine with you, you've been here before.

With a quick move you take off your shirt and straighten out your back, those thin, calloused fingers of his immediately skimming the notches of your spine and then brushing the flesh of your sides and lower back.

Choking a bit on air, you shift into Chan's lap some more, the friction there making it so he's just getting harder and harder in his pants, lips dragging over your jaw and your jugular and then down the exposed skin on your upper chest, a soft groan resounding in the room as he feels your half naked body against his, "should we-should we go upstairs in your room?", he offers beneath his breath, dark but shining orbs looking at your reddened face.

It feels a lot like one of those teenage movies you used to watch and fantasize about, him lifting you right up into his arms, picking you up like a baby and climbing up the stairs while still kissing you passionately. It's real. It really is real. Your heart now thrumming faster, you close your eyes for a second, fully immersing yourself in the moment.

Chan carefully lays you down on your bed and spreads out your legs just enough so he can position his one knee in between as he hovers over you, lips full and dark pink, eager to kiss you more and more.

And you let him, of course you do.

So lost in the kiss and the delicate scent of his cologne it takes you a second to realise he's fumbling with the straps of your bra again, "is this okay? can we take this off?".

Your face now a several different degrees of hot from the intimacy of this all, you sit up just barely, the garment easily sliding down your shoulders, with little to no help.

A grunt escapes his lips, eyes growing big and dark, Chan takes in your sight and then attacks your chest with fluttery kisses all over, his hands coming up to fully undo the clasp and finally remove the garment.

Oh he knows what he's doing. There's a veil of hunger in his eyes, along with a certain savviness, like an expertise of sorts as he buries his face in your chest, that warm soft mouth of his kissing every goosebump and curve and birthmark while he gently fondles and squishes your flesh.

You're electrified by his touch but also soothed by it at the same time, blood surging fast to your heart but somehow quietening it down. It occurs to you that you haven't been doing much on your part, you wonder if you're supposed to do more than just run your hands down his smooth, muscular back, if you're supposed to pull at his hair, considering you genuinely wish to. Both for his and your own satisfaction.

Scooting just a little closer to him so he has easier access to you, you trail your hands down to his crotch, the fabric of his pants stretched for dear life around his very obvious boner: "that's you... that's all you", Chan mumbles a little flustered, a nervous giggle following suit that has you chuckling in disbelief.

Carefully you move your hands around the bulge, looking up at him with uncertainty, "may I...?", you ask timidly and he cups your cheek with one hand, "of course, you can touch me as much as you want".

Your hands trembling just a tad bit, you reach out to undo the button of his pants, struggling not to let it slip in between your fingers. Your boyfriend towering over you, feeling exponentially soft, melty on the inside and hard for you in the outside at the same times.

He chuckles and grabs both your hands just so he can bring them up to his lips and kiss them, distracting you from your task, "I got you, I got you", he whispers, now unbottoning his own pants, sliding them down his legs and then kicking them off.

You start stroking him through his light blue boxers,enough to feel him warming up and twitching slightly in your palms, Chan sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking absolutely marvelous while doing that, breathing heavy, arousal written all over his face despite the calmness in his attitude.

"Humpf...ooh ..s-shit", Chan tilts his head back, his Adam apple prominent and exposed, you can't help but plant a kiss right there, earnig a delighted whimper in response.

A firm but not painful grip to your aching wrist, Chan slows down your motion after a little while, just when you feel dampness in your palms, his still clothed skin becoming boiling hot, "I oof ...I'm going to need you to stop here or I might just ...not last", he admits through a ragged breath.He's holding back, trying to restrain himself as long as he can, you can tell by the beads of sweat on his face and his chest, the veins in his neck thickening by the second.

Still he remains astoundingly present and focused. On you. Only you. Thin fingers trailing down your torso, cupping your breasts and your face and your tummy and your arms, eager to kiss you all over too, "oh GOD your skin is so soft, you are so soft", he rasps in a daze.

You want to laugh and cry and scream at just how good this feels, all the soft touches and praise and the heat of his body pressing down on you. When his fingers eventually find their path down the front of your crotch, despite your heart rising up in your throat, you nod enthusiastically before he even gets the chance to speak, for you're fairly sure he's about to ask for your permission.

Eyes literally sparkling, Chan pinches your chin between his fingers, "I need your explicit vocal consent to touch you down there", he says solemnly, "you have it", you reply just as seriously, undoing the button of your jeans and sliding them down past your hips, letting him do the rest.

Just at the sight of you in your lilac frilly underwear where a darker patch is expanding has his mouth water, you can hear him cussing under his breath incomprehensibly one minute and then rubbing his fingers against your pulsating nub the next.Yeah your scars and stretchmarks and hair and skin bumps on the inside of your thighs are on full show for him, and admittedly they make you feel a little self conscious but if Chan notices them, he doesn't seem to mind at all.

He starts with just two fingers at first, rubbing back and forth, teasing your still clothed entrance a few times before he switches to pressing down his whole palm on you. Your head sinking into the pillow beneath you, you shut your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip harshly, your body going tense in the best way, cheeks warming up, your breathing coming up short as Chan works fast but thoroughly.

You're so concentrated on the building feeling in your lower tummy you barely hiss when the halfway soaked material of your knickers slides down your legs.Full lips tracing the contour of your folds, rough finger pads tapping ad rubbing and tapping again until you're spasming, "hol-ly ssh-shit" , you breathe out, rutting your hips up and up towards Chan who smirks and grunts and keeps his pace steady so you don't lose momentum.

Your temples pulsating, the oxygen seemingly abandoning your lungs, you choke out a moan that has Chan go jelly in the knees, watching you climax by his hand is making him wanting you impossibly more.

"I'm going to grab a condom...", he whispers on your lips, kissing them sweetly, momentarily bringing you back down on earth where you can stick your hand in his slightly matted hair and pull him for one more kiss, or two: "can you kiss me just a little longer?", you plead, feeling your eyelid heavy on your eyes, blissfullness and peace trying to take over the remaining nerves bubbling up in your stomach.

Chan chuckles and carefully lays down on top of you, slotting himself right in between your thighs, his boxers riding down in the process,"of course sweet girl, you get all the kisses you need". He looks at you with adoring eyes, eager to kiss you just as much you are to kiss him. He lets you roam his body with your hands, caress his arms and his back as you get lost on his tongue, your fingers softly pulling at the ends of his hair.

When you're both finally out if breath you help him out of his boxers, silently gasping at the sight of him and just how ... sizable he is. You try to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come while he slips on a condom, your heart a few seconds away from exploding from how fast it's beating.

Chan hovers you once more, the flex in his arms muscles so prominent you want to clamp them down and squeeze so bad just to relieve some tension: "are we-are we sure you're gonna ...fit? like are the laws of physics a thing?" you blurt out so candidly and your boyfriend quite literally doubles over in loud giggles.

Oh my god you could not love him more. He's giggling and squeaking and he's oh so hard for you and he's blushing up to the tip of his ears so endearingly and he's looking at you so softly so lovingly your love for him just shoots through the roof.

"I promise it's going to fit, I'm not going to break you, y/n", he reassures you, bending down to kiss you slowly, "you're in control yeah? we can stop anytime, just say the word", he continues, gently lowering himself down until he's almost fully aligned in between your thighs, not before making sure you're nodding your approval, smiling weakly, "actually ..do you want to be on top? Would that make you feel more comfortable? you can easily se the pace while you're on top of me", he offers, placing a soft peck on your cheek.

He looks so beautiful from down here. You can feel his whole body touching yours, the warmth of it, the smoothness and roughness of it too. And you can look straight into his eyes and run your fingers through hi hair.

There something so reassuring and calming in being encaged underneath him, it's oddly making you feel calmer despite how nervous you are deep dow: "I'd rather stay right here if that's okay, I feel safe".

Smiling widely, Chan holds your face, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs, gentle strokes tracing the outline of your smile lines and your nose. This close up you can see the few little faint, light coloured freckles on his nose and his cheeks, the single individual sparse hair of his eyebrows, the tenderness in the lines of his full lips.

You embrace him, wanting nothing more than feel all of him, and you're so focused on that handsome face of his you register he's adjusting himself inside of you only a second later when the air is temporarily sucked out of your chest.

It doesn't hurt, contrary to what you thought your whole life so far, perhaps because of how tender and sleek you were already, but it just feels a bit uncomfortable , a bit new at first. But not painful at all.

He starts moving ever so slowly, slipping in and out of you as he holds your waist and then your hips and then your overall frame once he realises you're both adjusting to one another bodies.

You instinctively lace your arms around his neck, inadvertently pulling him closer to you just as he begins to move a little faster, a whimper leaving his lips, making your head spin, "oh my ... fuck you feel amazing ...", he purrs.

Something primal, instinctual is set off in you. Sure, it's still not the most comfortable you've ever been but the sheer adrenaline and intense affection you feel for him is spreading all over your body, and it is enough to overpower the discomfort.

To be fair you start to even like it, that slight edge. It's quickly turning into a blindingly pleasant friction.

Heart palpitating, you tighten your grip around him, your hips moving in synchro with him as he goes in and out of you, now starting to sweat profusely and getting red and splotchy all over his torso, looking ridiculously hot, the feverish kissess and hisses and soft grunts you exchange making it all the more arousing, you belong to this man, you think. And it feels great.

Chan slows down just a bit, eyes dark but bright with genuine awe at you, holding him like that, like you never want to let him go, seemingly enjoying yourself judging from the sounds you're making, the way that you're moving.

It's just the erratic breathing that's concerning, reason why he now breaks his fast pace considerably, not deflating into softness yet but definitely delaying his own pleasure: "are you alright love? you're breathing funny" he chokes out.

You hurriedly scramble to push yourself up and wrap around him like a koala, kissing his neck repeatedly, "I'm good, I'm good I love you I'm good, don't stop please don't stop", it almost comes out on a whine but your heart hurts in the best way for just how insanely sweet and attentive he is.

Chan looks immensely relieved, he chuckles lowly, biting down his bottom lip, "you're doing so well, taking me so well, baby. But are you sure you're good? you can always invoke Scooby Doo".

Tension cut with the umpteenth outburst of giggles at how silly this sounds, it takes you a minute to fully regain your composure and kiss him in reassurance once again, "I'm perfectly fine, no need to call him". Chan smashes his lips into yours, his hands climbing up your body to squeeze and stroke and trace invisible patterns that he then wets with kissess.

The bed rocking with the commotion you two are causing, you squeeze your now weak thighs around him again and again he thrusts into you a few more times until the veins in his neck start popping out and the beads of sweat on his forehead roll down his cheeks.

His face contrite with excersion, he grinds his teeth and breathes out loudly, "fuck -fuck I love you -AH -fuck", he twitches and writhes, and visibly holds off his release for as long as he can, going all in with tapping motions on your clit while still pushing in and out a little slower, your vision getting progressively more blurry from the double intense stimulation.

That until he can no more and just climaxes hard: oh he's loud.

Louder than he has ever been before, not even in a vulgar way, just in a very exhausted very pleased way.

But Chan's is a pleaser, and he likes to give more than he likes to take: though still panting and puffing air out, he makes sure you get your release too. All over him and your white linen sheets beneath your bum.

You slowly let go of him and spread your arms out on the mattress, tired out of your mind but in complete utter bliss too as you close your eyes and inhale and exhale rapidly.

Out of the corner of your eyes you see him roll off of you and throw away the condom, he grabs something from your bathroom and returns to you with a stupid grin on his face, "let's get you all cleaned up sweetheart", he says gently, proceeding to dab around your body with what you can only presume is a towel.

You smile timidly and let him do his thing, way too comfortable and meek and relaxed to move an inch to help him, you barely stroke the hair away from his forehead and observe how fast your chest is rising and falling, "I-ve -I've got wet wipes in the second drawer", you murmur, and Chan promptly retrieves them from the nightstand you just pointed at, doing his best to clean the both of your dampened, slightly sticky bodies.

Afterglow. You never knew the true meaning of the term until this very moment as you observe Chan's serene expression, he rests peacefully on the other side of the bed, his hands lazily tracing your spine up and down while you listen to his heartbeat, your blushed cheek pressing down on his chest.

He suddenly starts sniffing your head, humming contently underneath his breath,"how do you manage to smell like fresh roses right now, I don't understand", he whines softly , kissing your hair and then the tip of your nose, breaking the comfortable silence you had fallen in in the sweetest way possible.

Your lips inevitably stretching into a smile just for him, you turn your face and look up at him to peck his lips, "your cleanliness might have rubbed off on me too, who knows. You never smell bad either".

Chan giggles at your cute response and nudges you closer to him, "I have to confess I got a bit self conscious when I started to sweat badly. You were laying there underneath me, naked and fucking beautiful, and I was like yeah I'm Korean I don't really smell when I sweat but I was so nervous and afraid I was going to hurt you I thought my stress levels were going to mess with my own chemicals haha".

It sounds light hearted and not that serious at all cause he's laughing and playing it off but you know this man so well you instantly recognise it actually takes him a lot of courage to be this vulnerable and honest, your heart swelling up at just hearing him talk like that.

"I'm so sorry you were stressed. If it helps at all I didn't really notice to be honest. You seemed so confident and assured, I genuinely felt like you knew how to take care of me. And you didn't hurt me in the slightest, I feel like you were actually so gentle", you admit sincerely, brushing your hands over his pectorals, and he hums almost timidly in response, as per usual, way too humble to accept compliments.

"Did you hold back, at all?", you ask after a little while, the seed of suspicioun settling in your heart, not out of malice but out of the care you know Chan is unable not to extend to you, "I didn't. Not intentionally anyway. I tried to be gentle and not overwhelm you since it was your first time but other than that I wouldn't have done anything differently even if we were causally having sex on a random night. I'm glad you didn't feel the need to call Scooby-Doo ehehe".

You both giggle and bash in the profound intimacy that is embracing each other like this, naked and happy. "Like I said, you were so careful and caring I was quite alright the whole time. Sorry for the silly jokes though, I was trying to be funny to drown out the nervousness. And also you're actually bigger than I thought I swear I was unprepared".

Chan starts to laugh so loudly he shakes and vibrates and you think he's going to choke any minute now. So you laugh with him too, obviously, while still having to actively hold on to the sheets or you know you're going to roll off the bed.

"You are the silliest cutest girl, never apologise for being you, please I love you so much it hurts" he chuckles happily, kissing you over and over, joyfulness bursting out of him.

144 notes · View notes

kanmom51 · 4 months ago

Text

Jikook and their ramen talk

Are you sure? Episode 4

We finally got to it. The poolside ramen talk.

Talk about Jikook and their underlying innuendos.

Where do we start?

With the Ramen?

With the shower talk?

With PPEURIRI?

Let's start with this first, I guess.

Something that by now we should be all very well aware of.

And it's not like it's not a running joke with Jikook already, right?

You know, just listening to the conversation, reading the translation, it can most definitley go under the radar as an innocent convo about deciding if to eat some ramen or not after their lovely playful pool time fun time.

But nope.

It most certainly ain't just that.

All you need is to:

a. Look at their faces and body language. This was not just about food. Well, not FOOD food.

b. The little additives that somehow go untranslated. The fact that each one of them finds the way to weave it into their conversation at the most interesting times of said convo. I will get to it, believe me I will.

So, basically they got out of the pool and JM was hungry.

I'm going to go with hungry and HUNGRY. And I'm not going to be swayed!!!

Sorry, not sorry. No conversation about being hungry and wanting to eat carbs is that funny.

But, a conversation about ramen laced with plenty of sexual inuendo most definitely is!!!

And that is what was going on there.

Talking about ramen and being hungry and being able to eat it all, all while at the same time there is a whole underlined conversation going on, with lots of eye contact and giggles and hints as loud as can be.

Like this here:

youtube

🐥what? you don't have to eat. i can eat it all

🐰ppeuriri~

Both giggling away.

I think a little reminder is necessary here as to what ppeuriri is all about, right?

Not really, but I'll give it anyway.

Ppeuriri = JM's 3D...

Body to body to body to body to body You and me, baby, you know that we got it So don't go gettin' me started 'Cause you know I get hot-hearted Baby, oh, baby, oh, baby, you makin' me crazy Rain, rain, rain, you can't fake it You give me brand-new emotion You got me drinkin' that potion I just wanna see you like that See you like that, uh-uh So if you're ready (so if you're ready) And if you'll let me (and if you'll let me) I wanna see it in motion, in 3D (hey, show me, girl, now, uh-uh) You won't regret me (you won't regret me) Champagne confetti (champagne confetti, hey) I wanna see it in motion, in 3D (come on, come on, come on)

Like I said, no way those two had entirely pure intentions while having that whole ramen conversation.

That was JK bringing up ppeuriri, both going all giggly. But that wasn't the end of that, now was it?

If, for some reason you would think that it was just nothing, an instinctual slip of the tongue, out of no where, with no meaning behind it...

There goes JM and does it again.

youtube

🐰We might feel differently after a shower.

🐰This might be because we just swam.

🐥ppeuriri~

This time no giggles, just a smile and then a sultry expression walking towards JK.

Cut.

Talk about showering with them off camera.

And lots of shady stuff going on to make us think that maybe, just maybe, those two kind of showered together.

Idk, am I being clear enough?

So, let's talk about that shower for a second.

We see JK going into the bathroom, JM nowhere to be seen.

Obviously he's not showering upstairs with Tae asleep there and both of their suitcases spread out open in front of the downstairs bathroom.

Next we see JM outside of the bathroom brushing his hair dressed after the shower and JK is in the bathroom partially dressed after that shower.

JM walking in behind JK, and yes, it looks like he's lifting his arms to fix his hair, but that cut there again.... I am choosing to believe that he also went in for a hug there. Hill meet Kanmom.

Oh, and hunger issue solved at this point.

Ppeuriri.

All jokes aside (or perhaps not so much a joke...), I just want to remind you one more time that 3D was released on 29 September 2023, all while this is being filmed 26 September 2023!!

#Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #Jimin #JK #JM #Are you sure? Jikook #Are you sure? Jeju #Youtube

222 notes · View notes

scarletttries · 8 months ago

Text

When Fallout Characters Have Their First Kiss...(Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who voted on my last poll! It was so fun seeing the votes come in so I'll definitely do that again! Please keep sending in Fallout requests, or for any of the other poll options :)

The Ghoul:

- Life in the wastelands has always been tough, and Cooper Howard's skin has had to grow even tougher, literally and metaphorically. His defenses have slowly steeled themselves over the last two hundred years, every awful encounter and exchange adding another barricade around what was once a warm and friendly heart. He thought that tough exterior was what had kept him alive that long. He also thought your purpose in his life must have been to prove that thought wrong.

- From that first surprising encounter the ghoul found himself drawn to your gaze, your touch, your presence. The way you gave him all three so unflinchingly. Your eyes could look into his without disgust or pity, your hand never snatching away as if the slightest graze could curse you to the same cruel fate. Cooper tried to tell himself the kindest thing he could do for you was to keep your partnership of survival a strictly platonic one, but as nights in each other's company passed one by one he could feel himself inching closer and closer to the warmth you seemed to radiate towards him.

- So used to being in control of every situation, it only shook him more to feel so uncertain of your feelings and if he should act on his own. He feared you being the first person in a century to show him kindness had turned his brain entirely to confetti, that his heart had no choice but to hope you'd take it from his cavernous chest. But your kindness was who you were to everyone, regardless of what they deserved. It didn't mean anything about how you felt about him. So why couldn't he stop himself having that most dangerous hope that maybe his heart wasn't the only one aching with every step you passed side by side, hands hanging just shy of touching, so easy to grab and finally embrace that deep seated truth that this was becoming something more.

- Cooper prided himself on taking the brunt of any danger the world seemed to throw your way, happy to be stitched back together by your soft and caring hands. That day though, he'd been thrown from your side a moment too long and watched helplessly as a half-crazed raider slashed at you with some clumsily wielded machete. You did your best to hold them off, but before Cooper could rise to his feet and grab his pistol you'd taken a hit to the arm, blood dripping from the tip of the blade and red spreading across the tattered fabric of your shirt. The ghoul had never felt such rage encompassing him, ripping through the gang in a violent frenzy that he would have worried would frighten you if he wasn't so focused on his need for overkill.

- He's uncharastically quiet as he practically carries you back to camp, ignoring your insistence that it's just a scratch until he's been able to examine you himself by the familiar glow of your campfire. He kneels beside you and scrutinises your arm, always slightly captivated by how soft your skin has remained in this unforgiving wasteland. Once he realises that you're right, and you'll be just fine, he can feel the swell of relief and terror hitting him all at once, the awful realisation that he could have lost you without ever getting to try and be as close to you as he craves. So he stills his gaze on your face, eyes flickering down to your lips as he inches closer, bracing himself for the rejection of your retreat. Instead you meet him halfway, your lips more warm and soft than any he could remember. In that sweet moment Cooper Howard feels more alive, more human, more safe than he ever did before the bombs hit. He feels like his body is warming from the inside out, a rush of blood bringing him back to the man he once was.

- He may not look any different as he reluctantly pulls away to let you breathe, but he is a changed man inside from your kiss. He realises that it's not his callous cynicism that's kept him alive this long, but his once soft heart, desperate to find hope again. Hope that he's now found, with you.

Maximus:

- It was hard for Maximus to put his finger on exactly what he felt when he was around you. He knew his entire being ached to be near you, and even when he was, it somehow wasn't close enough. He knew that when you smiled it made him smile, no matter what the context or motivation. He knew that the longer he went without seeing you, the dimmer the world seemed to be, like you were his lens to all the joy and colour around him and he was lost in grey oblivion about it. Maximus felt a lot of things around you that he'd never felt before, but he didn't really know what to call it. And he certainly didn't know what to do with all those feelings.

- The Brotherhood wasn't exactly the best place to learn about feelings growing up, everything complex and difficult hidden behind a layer of steel and obedience. Thankfully if you put enough young people together, eventually gossip will reign supreme. And so Max heard about the idea of a crush from two tables over as he sat eating alone in the canteen. He strained to pick up the conversation between two of the older guys who'd been out on more missions, setting down his cutlery and shuffling closer as he heard one of them talk about the way his stomach was in knots every time one of the new recruits looked at him. By the time they'd described the hot flush in their cheeks when the object of their affections smiled, and how they plagued their every thought, Max was sat with his mouth hanging agape and a renewed sense of purpose for the next time you came knocking on his door to sneak out to see the stars.

- In fact he couldn't wait for that moment to come and instead you found him breathless and fighting with the opening of your tent when you came back from your latest supply run. Upon spotting you he quickly unravelled himself from the ropes that had captured his limbs in his stealthy attempts to sneak a peek inside, and offered his hand to you in such a matter of fact motion that you had to stifle a laugh at the serious expression on his face. He leads you to the quiet corner of camp the two of you frequent, a tarp tucked against a loose fence panel that almost feels like a loveseat made just for you.

"Do you know what a crush is?" Max looked equal parts concerned and excited as he tried to read your puzzled expression.

"Yes Max, do you?" You knew there was something growing in the way you and Maximus had come to rely on each other, and pass every free moment tangled in each other's company, but you also knew he didn't have the best understanding when it came to the more human parts of his life and didn't want to risk misreading the delicate situation.

"I think so, but what should you do when you have a crush on someone?" He looked up at you starry-eyed and hopeless, desperately wishing that you two could be far away from here and working all of this out without the horrors of war hanging over you. You could see the straining heart behind his wide-eyed gaze, his hand still nervously clinging to yours, and decided to take pity on the young soldier.

"Do you want me to show you?" You ask softly, inching closer to his face almost feeling the heat rising in his cheeks as he frantically nodded. Lifting the hand he hadn't claimed, you let your palm rest against his cheek, feeling his body start to tremble in anticipation of what might come next. You leaned in, eyes focusing on his soft full lips until they met yours, pressing gently into him until his brain caught up and finally he started to reciprocate. Unsure and desperate, his free hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer and making sure you wouldn't stop this wonderful feeling in a hurry. As your lips moved slowly against his, he found a rhythm with you, drinking in your sweet warmth and praying this moment would never end, because somehow this strange and overwhelming feeling was still so much better than the years of emptiness that had stretched before it. Finally you pull away from him, searching his eyes for some insight into how he's feeling after such a pivotal first for him. You're met by the widest smile you've ever seen, and a simple question, "Can we do that again?"

Norm:

- Norman Maclean couldn't help the overwhelming cynicism that flooded through him every time it was the day of another vault-exchanging wedding day. He wanted to enjoy the delicious array of food, without thinking about how insufferable it must be to suddenly live with a perfect stranger. He wanted to enthusiastically navigate the dancefloor like everyone else, without thinking about how the new couple must be feeling so uncomfortable despite how happy they looked. He wanted to be able to soak in the joy of that magical first kiss without feeling this strange hollow ache inside himself that he tried to write off as an aversion to the falseness of this whole charade. But as he watched yet another 'happy couple' lock lips or move intertwined across the dancefloor, a small part of him knew that his distaste for the day was down to one much more simple feeling: Envy.

- There wasn't even anyone in the vault he wanted to share those kinds of embraces with, but that knowledge did little to assuage the aching loneliness that was nestled deep under layers of logic and intelligence that he let guide him instead of his heart. Or at least there had never been anyone in the vault that had made him feel that way by the time the council decided it was his turn to take part in their little tradition of arranged marriages. And in a most pleasant surprise to the slight young man, he felt a touch of optimism as his wedding day rolled around and he found himself face to face with you. And in a twist of fate that had Norm quite unable to believe his own luck, he was destined to wed someone that stirred those same desperate, longing feelings inside him with no sign of relief.

- The short-lived, perfunctory kiss with which the two of you had sealed your vows had been enough to set his heart ablaze, even with the eyes of the vault on him, even though it only lasted for a split-second, even though he wished the circumstances were entirely different. And as the two of you found common ground and shared secret jokes as the night went on, Norm only found himself falling deeper under your spell and praying when the night was through that you wouldn't resent following him back to a room that might finally feel like home.

- As the music from the old record-player swelled you threaded your fingers through his and pulled him over the sparsely populated dancefloor, most of the Vault 33 having long given up on seeing Norm dance and retreated to their own private quarters. As the lights grew dimmer on the projected skyline you seemed only more beautiful in Norm's eyes, his slender arms finding your waist and holding onto you like he feared he might drift away in an ocean current that threatened to pull him back to reality. He watched the soft smile spread effortlessly across your face, the ease with which you swayed to the music making him dance before he even realised he was moving. His mind replayed the briefest touch of your lips and suddenly he found himself unable to concentrate on anything but closing the distance between you, every nerve in his body sending electricity through him that finally promised to illuminate the dark, aching loneliness that had resided in him for as long as he could remember.

- He prayed your smile was genuine as he stepped ever closer, taking a visibly deep breath before finally taking the plunge and landing what he hoped would be the first real kiss of many in your marriage. His chest pressed firmly against yours as he tried to remove all space between the two of you, every ounce of hope and affection pouring out into a kiss that had your head spinning, pure dedication from your new husband clear in his every touch. It felt all consuming to finally be so connected to another person, a feeling Norm feared would never find him but now seemed a tangible part of his present and future. By the time he pulled away his lungs ached and he worried his eyes would well up if you kept staring at him with such intensity. He felt himself freeze on the spot as he awaited your verdict; on his kiss, on the marriage, on him. A moment that stretched out an eternity passed before finally he watched a smile grace your lips, feeling your hand find his again as you said softly in his ear, an unfamiliar gleam in your eye,

"Which of these rooms is ours, husband?"

300 notes · View notes

adoresia · 19 days ago

Text

── .✦ THE BEST GIFT

⌗ PAIRING : Satoru Gojo x black!fem!reader

⌗ SYNOPSIS : It’s Satoru Gojo’s birthday ! And a surprise celebration with his closest friends leads to a quiet, intimate moment that leaves him reflecting on the day’s unexpected meaning.

⌗ SIA HERE ! : in honour of the end of my little blue eyes princess’s birthday 🥳

⌗ CW : Fluff, surprise party, suggestive , playful teasing, emotional vulnerability, romance, light humor.

The house had finally fallen silent, the echoes of the surprise party fading into the stillness of the night. Confetti was scattered on the floor, half-empty glasses lined the counters, and the faint scent of candles and dessert lingered in the air. You’d deal with the mess tomorrow, but for now, you were focused on the man sprawled across your bed.

Satoru Gojo looked completely at ease, his long legs stretched out as if he owned the place—and, knowing him, he probably thought he did. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing a sliver of toned skin, and his hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in wild tufts from an evening full of chaos. His blindfold was somewhere on the nightstand, forgotten for the moment.

He looked up as you walked in, his piercing blue eyes softening as a grin spread across his face. “Well would you look who it is,” he drawled, his voice lazy, like he was savoring the calm after the storm. “The woman of the hour. Or should I say, the woman who made the hour.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re unbelievably cringe, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his grin widening. “Still choosing me, day after day. Crazy choice, by the way.”

You settled on the edge of the bed, crossing your arms. “Do you even realize how hard it was to pull this off? Keeping a secret from you is like trying to hide a flashlight in the dark.”

He chuckled, sitting up slightly to rest on one elbow. “I mean, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble. It’s just another day, really.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “You don’t think birthdays are a big deal?”

He shrugged, his grin faltering slightly. “Not really. It’s not like anyone’s ever gone out of their way to make it special before. So… it’s just kind of whatever, y’know?”

Your chest tightened at his words. He said it so casually, as if it didn’t bother him, but the fact that he’d never had someone make a fuss over him on his birthday made you ache for him. “Well,” you said softly, “maybe you just didn’t have the right people around you before.”

He paused, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he smiled again—this time smaller, more genuine. “Guess I do now.”

Warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “So… was it good?” you asked. “The party, I mean. Did you have fun?”

His expression softened as he flopped back onto the bed dramatically, throwing his arms out. “So many highlights. Geto tripping over the chair? Iconic. Shoko’s tone-deaf karaoke? A masterpiece. But honestly?” He turned his head toward you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were searching for the right words. “It’s this. Right here. Just us. That’s my favorite part.”

His words hit you harder than they should have, leaving you momentarily stunned. Satoru wasn’t usually one for quiet sentimentality, but when he let his guard down, he had a way of wrecking you completely.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, mostly to cover how fast your heart was racing.

“And yet,” he said, sitting up enough to grab your wrist and pull you onto the bed with him, “here you are, dating me. Funny how that worked out.”

You yelped softly as you landed against him, one leg instinctively swinging over his hips to straddle him. He grinned up at you, his hands settling on your waist like they belonged there, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“Oh?” he teased, smirking. “What’s this? You trying to give me another birthday surprise?”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but your hands betrayed you as they came to rest against his chest.

“And you love it,” he shot back, the grin softening as his eyes locked on yours.

Your retort caught in your throat as the mood shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, something unspoken. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, anchoring you in place as his gaze searched yours.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice dropping to something softer, more serious, “this is the first time someone’s ever done something like this for me. It’s not just the party. It’s you. You made it special.”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his words knocking the air out of you. Satoru was always larger than life, always laughing, always on. But moments like this reminded you of the man underneath it all, the one who carried the weight of the world and still chose to share himself with you.

“You’re such a sap,” you murmured, though your voice was softer now.

“Yeah, but I’m your sap,” he said, his grin returning just enough to make you smile.

Feeling bold, you leaned down, your lips brushing against his. The kiss started soft, a tentative press that quickly deepened as his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. His lips moved with a practiced ease, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he needed this as much as air.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands stayed on your back, keeping you close as though letting go wasn’t an option.

“Happy birthday, Satoru,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his messy hair.

He smiled, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you. “Best birthday ever,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

You laughed quietly, shaking your head as you settled against him, the weight of the day finally melting away. Wrapped in his arms, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just you and him, tangled up in the quiet, perfect ending to his special day.

extra :

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, I still don’t get why everyone gets so hyped about birthdays. I’m just… another year older, right?” He let out a mock groan, dramatically clutching his chest. “Oh no, I’m ancient now. I’m officially old—I can feel the back pains already starting.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “At least your not thirty. Then you’d officially reach unc status.”

“That’s not funny,” he frowned playfully, “the way everyone was acting tonight, you’d think I was turning forty. What was Geto even saying about ‘wise, ancient sage’ or whatever? I don’t look a day over twenty-five, if I do say so myself.”

“Ancient, huh?” you teased. “Maybe we should start getting you a walker for your next birthday.”

“Hey!” he protested, sitting up to point at you, his eyes wide in mock offense. “Don’t play with me. I still got plenty of fight.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quipped, a grin forming on your face as you leaned in closer, “You’re practically a senior citizen now.”

His face twisted into a dramatic frown, pretending to be offended. “I’m not that old, am I?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’m just mature, that’s all. Distinguished, even.”

You leaned back, letting your laughter fill the room. “Mature, huh? Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Satoru grinned, his expression softening as he glanced at you, still leaning close. “Well, it’s the first time I’ve had someone make my birthday feel this special. So, yeah. I guess I’m feeling a little… old in the best way possible.”

sia here! (Again…) : I need to stop writing one shots fr, smau series coming soon 😎

76 notes · View notes

tonbelova25 · 1 year ago

Note

Kill yourself

Hi anon thank you so much for your kind words!! Much appreciated mate! I’m glad you popped by you’ve made my night!!

I don’t know what I did to deserve these kinds of asks as I only really use tumblr to read fics from the amazing writers I follow and to talk to a really really good friend on here.

Just so you know and not that you care but your words could actually have a major impact on someone who is in a vulnerable state of mind. Your words could be the last thing they read or see before they decide to no longer be here. Your actions and anonymous words have consequences and can affect so many peoples lives, you have no idea what the person your sending this nonsense to is thinking, feeling & going through when you send your anon bullshit. You may find it funny and get some weird kick from it but I do not! I honestly think you need to take a good long hard look in the mirror & find out what is making you so damn miserable in life that you feel the need to send unnecessary asks to people who you don’t even know to make them feel like shit. I also don’t appreciate seeing my friend receive these types of asks as well, they’re an amazing, kind, caring & beautiful person who doesn’t deserve it ever but yet she still keeps getting sent it and it really pisses me off!!

Anywho I know what I said won’t make a difference but it’s out there so you know that what you say could have consequences, maybe try and think before you anonymously send hurtful bullshit to people. Show some compassion and kindness the world needs more of it

SPREAD KINDNESS LIKE CONFETTI!!! ANON & KINDLY FUCK OFF AND ENJOY YOUR DAY OR NIGHT!! PEACE OUT I’M DONE!!

#anons bullshit #your words could affect someone #think before you send #spread kindness like confetti

1 note · View note

delphi-shield · 1 year ago

Text

helping hand // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2,600 read on ao3 mdni - 18+ hiii, you've all been so kind. unfortunately i am simply Too Awkward to properly express that, but i genuinely do appreciate all your kind words. please accept this smut as a token of my appreciation. i am definitely not luring you in with leon fics so that i can start posting the seven jill fics i'm working on haha what who would do that.

Leon helps you use a new toy. That's it, that's the smut. afab reader, use of dildo w/ knot & cumtube, size kink, use of good girl

You're not really sure what you expect Leon to do, per se - but in a moment of unfettered horniness, you had texted him. Told him how badly you needed him. He just hadn't known, maybe, what exactly you wanted from him. Not until you sent the picture, sloppily marked with a red line to show him exactly how far you had managed to take your newest toy - and how badly you wanted to take the whole thing.

You wedged your thumb between your teeth, biting at the nail. You stared at your last text message from Leon.

On my way ;)

That stupid fucking smiley face. You shouldn't be this nervous. You had requested his help. The ball was entirely in your court. You could pull the plug on this at any moment. Christ, it wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before. He had knotted you into a pretzel more times than you could count, bent you over nearly every surface in your apartment, kicked your feet apart, and slid home like he was made for it.

But you've never really had this kind of experience with him before.

Sure, whatever. He had used your vibrator on you before. That wasn't an unwelcome guest. He had even mentioned more toys, left it up to you to decide when you wanted to introduce them to the bedroom. But this? This was different.

It was fucking huge, for starters.

The dildo sat there, intimidating on its own. You nudge the prominent head with a finger, trace the ridges down to the knot at the base. That's the part that's giving you trouble. That's the part you need help with. The cumtube should help, in theory. It’s already filled in anticipation of Leon’s arrival, the syringe lying off to the side while the toy sits in the middle of a towel you had spread out. You may as well get a spotlight, unfurl a banner that reads ‘HELP ME FUCK MYSELF’. Maybe some confetti poppers. Thoughts for next time. You should make a note of it.

Leon knocks like a cop, meaty part of his fist slamming against the door one, two, three times in a way that never fails to make you jump. You're already on edge, after all. Your pacing stops. You wipe your thumb off onto your shorts (tiny, barely more than glorified underwear - not like it matters. They'll be discarded soon anyway.) and wrench the door open. Leon grins down at you. His eyes skitter across the room, searching for the toy no doubt. You snort. As if you'd have it just sitting out on the kitchen table.

He greets you with a kiss to the top of your head, peeling off his coat and dropping it over the back of your couch. He slips out of his shoes - and you realize then and there that he looks like he's thrown on whatever was in reach at the time. His shirt is crumpled, socks mismatched - maybe he's more excited about this than you had expected. The thought sparks a prickle of heat across your skin.

"So," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "when do I get to meet the little guy?"

"Little?" You tease, a grin twitching the corners of your lips into a smile.

He raises his hands, palms out. “My mistake.”

You snort, waving for him to follow you. As if he needs the encouragement. His hands settle onto your shoulders, thumbs gently pressing and massaging. You nudge the door open with your foot, sweeping your hand out in an exaggerated motion.

Leon lets out a low whistle. "Okay. Not so little."

Your nerves rise up again, getting the best of you for a moment. You pick at your finger, lingering by the door while he steps in, crouching down to observe the set up you've laid out for him.

"We don't have to," you offer him an out, shrugging like it's fine, like you won't be disappointed - like the idea won't be burning a hole in the back of your mind for the rest of your goddamn life every time you get even a little horny.

"No," he says quickly. He picks up the syringe, testing it curiously. A bead of lube dribbles from the head of the toy, drops to darken the towel below. "I think we do."

"But, like, we actually don't--"

Leon stands, turns back to you. His hands rest on your shoulders again, his head ducking to look you in the eye. He's not smiling - but damn, with that gleam in his eye, he doesn't have to.

"You want to. That's good enough for me."

Kissing him is the most natural thing in the world. A ‘thank you’, an ‘I love you’, all wrapped up into a press of your lips to his. He licks into your mouth, hands sliding down your arms slowly. He nudges your bedroom door shut only to press you against it, knee rising between your legs and pressing. You groan, rocking your hips against him, letting the friction ignite in the pit of your stomach. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, exploring skin that you've spent hours mapping out and committing to memory. He hisses a breath between his teeth, and you giggle when he mutters about your freezing little fingers, yet refuses to pull away. A hand trails to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle before his hand rests atop yours, stilling you.

"Nice try," he teases. "You're not getting out of this that easy. You asked me here for a reason."

No amount of huffing or pouting dissuades him. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat. He's shucking your shirt off of you, flinging it to some corner of the room. His hands grip your sides, kneading soft flesh between his fingers. For a moment, you wonder if he remembers that reason himself. He spins you around, off the door, and nudges you towards the center of the room, towards the little station you had set up. His fingers linger against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps where they once were.

"Why don't you show me how you usually do this and we'll go from there."

You clear your throat, your eyes skittering off to the side. You hook a thumb under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down past the point of your hip. Leon’s gaze is hot on your skin, eyes narrowing the slightest bit when he realizes you’re not wearing panties.

“I kind of started before you got here,” you admit. You gesture sheepishly to a smaller toy lying discarded to the side. Leon’s shoulders straighten, the hiss of a breath sucked through his teeth. He lets out a slow, whispered ‘okay’.

It takes a few awkward, fumbling moments to get into place. You kneel over your target and Leon stands back with his hands on his hips, watching. You laugh, tell him it isn’t a spectator sport, and the awkward tension bleeds out of the room when he chuckles. He drops to one knee behind you, rubbing his cheek affectionately against the top of your head.

His hands settle firmly onto your hips, guiding you down onto the toy. Your head leans back against his chest, lube-slick hand curled around the base to keep it steady. The head slips into you, the slide greeting you with a rush of warmth flooding your belly. His lips press below your ear, murmuring strings of praises. His hands slide from your hips to caress your breasts, calloused thumbs circling your nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger and plucking. You keen, your back arching, pressing into his hands, and your hips roll. More of the toy presses into you - enough to give you pause, enough to drive the breath from your lungs in the form of a whimper.

The stretch and the burn isn't unpleasant. It fuels the fire in your belly, spreading to your limbs - but you know that this is the easy part. This part, you’ve done on your own. You take a moment, balanced on your knees, to enjoy the stretch, the fullness.

Before you get too comfortable, Leon's hands grasp your hips again and urge you upwards, the ridges of the toy dragging against your soaked walls. A groan stays locked behind your lips, tongue pressing to the back of your teeth. He presses you back down, sets a steady pace for you that you wouldn't have picked for yourself. His hands brace you, his arms looped around you firm, until your hips move without his guidance.

He raises his fingers to your lips and you open obediently, pressing your tongue to the seam of his digits. You lap and suck at his skin. His forehead lowers, pressing into your neck to release a hot groan against your skin.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your jaw hard - harder than he meant to. His fingers squeeze, pursing your lips for him to kiss. He’s ravenous, spit-slick fingers leaving a warm, sticky feeling against your skin, teeth tugging your bottom lip to his mouth for him to suckle. You aren’t sure which is more obscene - the sloppy, wet noises of your pussy or the starved way he kisses you.

"I am so hard right now," Leon whispers against your lips. A shock of arousal jolts your hips down. You groan, fumbling blindly behind you, hand slapping against his chest and sliding lower. He catches your wrist and chides, “Nuh-uh. Focus.”

“No fair,” you whine.

Leon drags the backs of his fingers down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach, and between your folds. The fingers you had sucked so dutifully moments before circle your clit in quick, harsh movements that pin your shoulders back.

“You want to talk about fair?” He growls in your ear. The knot catching against your hole, presses against you in a way that makes you whine and pull up. Leon leans against your back, urging you down again. “Calling me over just to help you fuck yourself? You think that’s fair?” You aren’t even sure what you’re saying anymore, babbling, hiding your face in your arm, body moving, chasing his fingers, chasing the press and the fill of the toy in your cunt.

“Almost there,” Leon huffs, his breathing nearly as labored as yours in a way that makes your heart

rate fucking spike and your vision blur. “Doin’ so good. Gotta get you nice and fucked open for me later, huh?”

You whimper and whine each time you come back down to meet the knot, the pressure against your pussy too much to push past, but god you want this, you want this whole thing so badly. Leon’s fingers stall on your clit, pressing against you firmly. He leans away, the heat of his chest disappearing and leaving you cold and empty.

“Leon -” you start to protest, your words melting into a moan. An ungodly squelch pushes lube through the toy, splurting deep in your pussy and coating your already soaked walls. You move, rising up and mewling at the contrast of the cool lube. The glide down grows easier, quicker, more desperate. The knot kisses your entrance against and again, lube and slick dribbling down the length of the toy and pooling at the base.

The press doesn’t burn any longer. It’s a pressure that makes your mouth drop open and your head roll back, your eyes squeezed shut. Leon is all over you, his fingers rubbing fervently at your clit, building a fuzzy, static-y pleasure that contrast perfectly with the deep, satiating fullness. He presses open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin he can reach, his tongue licking and teeth nipping.

You sink down again and then it’s in. The breath drives from lungs, your whole body frozen a moment. It returns to you in a ragged moan. You slump against Leon, picking your hips up experimentally and pressing back down. The knot stretches you wide again.

“Good girl,” Leon coos, his eyes fixed on the apex of your legs, mouth parted. He lets you enjoy yourself a moment longer, lets you clumsily rock your hips against the base of the toy. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

His arm loops around your waist, easing you off the toy in a slide that makes you moan, makes your insides quiver and your eyes squeeze shut. A rush of lube gushes down the toy, darkening the towel. You don’t have the time to be embarrassed by the noise your body makes; he positions you quickly, your back resting against his chest, spread open for him with your legs draped over his knees. He grabs your toy, slick with lube and with you, and glides the head between your lips. Your legs twitch, but he holds them open. Blessedly, he doesn’t tease for long. He guides the toy into you and marvels at the way it slides so easily, at the noises you make for him, the part of your lips, the stagger of your breathing.

His hand grips the base of the toy, fucking you with it at his own pace, the grind and the push so perfect you can’t catch your breath. His hand flattens across your stomach to stop your squirming, but when it proves worthless he chuckles, mutters something about how needy you are, and goes back to playing with your clit.

You clamp down on the toy, your walls too slicked, too wet to offer any real resistance to the way Leon thrusts it into you. The stutter of your hips becomes desperate, the noises leaving you pitched high, and a final pass of Leon’s fingers against your clit makes you snap, the pleasure flooding through you in a wave that pulls you under, leaves you gasping for air. His mouth latches onto your neck, holding the toy still for you to grind onto as you work your way through your release.

It feels like an hour has passed when your head finally clears. The stiff feeling settling in your knees and in your hips is something for your to worry about later. Leon strokes your hair from your face, his arms curled around your waist now, letting you take your time as you recover.

“You still hard?” You ask, turning your head to kiss him.

“You have no idea,” Leon laughs, low and throaty. He kisses you soft, resisting the urging to tilt your head back and take this another direction.

He doesn’t let you relax too long, working the toy out of you gently. The emptiness has you curling into his side, you skin sticky with lube, sweat, your own release - god knows what, at this point. You can’t be certain that you really care, that floaty feeling still washing through your veins.

As much as you want to linger there on the floor, Leon scoops you up and deposits you on the bed. You reach a hand out for him, urging him to join you, but he only holds up a finger to tell you to wait.

“Gotta get this cleaned up. Gotta make sure you’re not hiding any other fun toys from me.”

“The dresser, second drawer on the right.”

He shakes his head, taking it for a joke. He shoots you a smirk as he opens the drawer. His face falters, surprise flickering over his features, a light oh leaving his lips.

“Well,” he says, his hands settling onto his hips. “Guess it’s a good thing we’ve got all night, huh?”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil #leon kennedy #i'll figure out a tagging system one day. maybe even navigation. until then? good luck.

419 notes · View notes

growingfunwithaimain · 11 months ago

Text

Amidst the rainbow of sweets, Lily hesitated over a single candy. Its shell shimmered with a mysterious blue hue, calling to her like a siren's song. With a flick of her wrist, she snatched it off the shelf and brought it to her lips. The instant she bit down, her senses were assaulted by a burst of flavor.

But the surprise didn't end there. As she savored the delight, her skin began to transform. Starting from her fingertips, a wash of indigo washed over her limbs, spreading like ink through water. By the time she finished the last crumb, her entire being had been dyed a rich shade of midnight blue.

Yet, the crowd within the candy shop carried on as though nothing had changed. Their laughter echoed against the glass cases, their voices mere background noise to the surreal tableau unfolding before them.

Just when Lily thought things couldn’t get any more interesting, her hips decided to join the party. They began to widen, expanding like a balloon filled with joy. Soon, they were rounder than ever before, hugging her frame with a confidence that matched her newfound color scheme.

Meanwhile, her thighs grew thicker, like two ripe melons ready for plucking. The denim of her jeans clung to her legs, emphasizing every muscle and curve. Even the most stoic customer couldn’t resist the urge to ogle her backside.

In the midst of all this, Lily found herself reveling in her new form. She twirled around, watching the reactions of those who dared to look. Some turned away in shock, while others openly admired her figure. For Lily, it was a moment of pure euphoria, a celebration of her own beauty.

And so, she stood tall, proudly displaying her metamorphosis to anyone brave enough to catch a glimpse. After all, what better place to showcase one's newfound glory than inside a candy store?

With each passing minute, Lily grew taller, stretching towards the ceiling like a beanstalk reaching for the sky. Her abdominal muscles flexed beneath her skin, creating ripples that would make even the strongest gym rat jealous. And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly expand anymore, her shirt gave out, exploding in a shower of confetti.

Beneath the rubble lay her bare bosom, nipples standing at attention like sentinels guarding her treasure trove. The sheer audacity of her outfit malfunction drew stares from every corner of the shop. But Lily wasn’t fazed—she knew exactly how powerful she looked.

Her gaze locked onto a young man who had been eyeing her since the beginning. He blushed furiously, his cheeks turning redder than the cherry lollipops he held. Without saying a word, Lily extended her hand, beckoning him closer. With a nod of consent, he approached, his steps hesitant yet eager.

Together, they left the candy store, arm in arm, heading toward whatever adventure awaited beyond its doors. As they walked down the street, Lily felt invincible, knowing that wherever they went, they would turn heads and start conversations. Because sometimes, the best kind of candy isn’t something you eat; it’s someone you can take home.

Another request for @realmofgoddesses! I think this has been my favorite request to work on so far! It was a lot of fun and took a long time to get it the way i wanted it but that's why im taking requests! to learn more and improve!

#breast expansion #expansion kink #breast growth #giant breasts #growth #ai art #ai girl #artificial intelligence #ai #giantess

310 notes · View notes

itsvelyria · 10 months ago

Text

"alternate universes w the f1 drivers"

Charles Leclerc

A tense atmosphere hangs in the still air of the conference room. The guards of the neutral faction glance at each other, be that in trepidation or anticipation, you couldn't give two hoots. If you had a little more presence of mind, perhaps you would have scoffed at the sight of such timidity. But your attention had been focused on one thing even before you stepped foot into the room - Leclerc, the commander of your universes' nemesis and your self-proclaimed enemy. Even as both your universes teetered on the brink of a cosmic conflict over some glowing orb of unfathomable power, you could see nothing but his equally unwavering stare boring into you. It was a battlefield of carefully chosen words and tempered anger, the kind you were terrible at, and a desperate attempt to find common ground in the midst of interdimensional tension. Memories of recent battles played like vivid flashbacks in your mind – your successful conquering of New York, and then counted with major loss suffered in the faraway battlegrounds of Thailand at his hands. The friction between you two mirrored the larger conflict, a reflection of the cosmic struggles that had engulfed your universes. Each word uttered by your superiors and his felt like a strategic move on a celestial chessboard, with the stakes higher than ever. The table, littered with holographic projections and tactical maps, became a battlefield of its own, an arena for diplomatic warfare. Amid the charged atmosphere, you two stood tall as commanders of your respective armies, your universes hanging in the balance, and the fate of countless lives rested on the outcome of this uneasy negotiation.

Carlos Sainz

You can't stop the sly smile from spreading on your lips when one of your maids discreetly places a charcoal-coloured envelope next to your plate. The conversation about the northern harvest abruptly fades as your eyes lock onto the crimson seal adorned with an embossed helm, an unmistakable insignia of authority. The seemingly simple package, however, emanates opulence, from the shimmering paper to the vibrant pigment of the wax. It speaks of a wealth only a king could possess - the Ruler of the Underworld, your husband. Beside you, your mother's disapproval is palpable, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the letter from your elusive beloved. Despite her repeated skepticism regarding the legitimacy of your marriage, a quiet rebellion has taken root in your heart, growing into a conspicuous flower that refuses to be overlooked. In a huff, your mother excuses herself, unable to endure the presence of the offensive missive on her table. Meanwhile, you handle the delicate task of peeling the seal with utmost care. The pages that spill out consume your entire morning, each carefully chosen word and artfully crafted sentence nurturing the burgeoning emotion within you, a fervent longing for the man. Tracing the signature at the end, the cursive letters spelling Carlos's name evoke the vivid memory of him signing his name on the palm of your hand that teary evening before your departure.

Danny Ricciardo

Your workshop is beyond cluttered. You know this. And on usual days, you don’t mind it in the least bit. But when you can’t find the only wrench that works, it is basically hell for you. You rifle through bags of nails and bolts, wondering if it is possible for a black hole to open at random to steal one’s only good tool. The plastic baggie of sequins that you bought to adorn Danny’s suit as a prank explodes as you toss it to the ground harshly, decorating the air with pink metallic confetti. Your hands pause over the table, eyes pressed closed in the hopes that your temper will settle itself magically. It doesn’t. But the door to your workshop does open, and the cheery voice of your partner asks if there is a party going on. You turn to him with the deadliest expression you can muster, telling him that you aren’t in the mood for jokes. “Will coffee help?” he asks, his unruly curls pushed up by the goggle on his head, holding up a mug. You feel the tension in you jaw loosen and nod, taking the metal cup from him gratefully. The amazing coffee smell wafts into the air as you open the lid and take a sip. He asks what you were looking for, already sweeping up the sequins from the floor as you collapse into your stool to enjoy the caffeine. You tell him in-between mouthfuls of the precious liquid. “I told you to keep your station clean,” he wags a finger at you in mock lecture. “And I told you I’d do it when you clean out your closet,” you shoot back bitingly. He sticks out a tongue at you as he dumps the collected sequins into the trash. Danny holds his hand out for the empty mug like he does on the coffee run he insists on doing for you every day. “Your wrench is right there by the way.” You swivel in the direction the pilot points, spying the goddamn tool right there beside the toolbox. A curse spills from your lips. “Love you too,” your boyfriend presses a kiss to your cheek as he leaves the door, already late for his practice session.

George Russell

The colossal estate towers over you in a show of intimidation, even more so than 17 years ago when you were deposited at the front door and it was introduced as your new home. Perhaps it was the fact that in the room with the round window on the second floor, sat the very man who had shaped you into the officer you were today, someone you would forever be indebted to and the folder in your hands had to power to ruin his life's work. Your feet propels you forward, the duty you were sworn to uphold taking charge over the fog that clouded your perception now. In the ancient study room, you greet your adoptive father whose eerily calm composure hints at his awareness of the purpose of your visit. And so you lay it out. The mosaic of the photographs and documents, the tangled threads of your past and his lay out in the open. Taking out the last photograph, you pause to study the profile of the man who should have been in your place, the cheeky look in his eyes and the impish charm glaring through the still image. You slide the photograph across the desk, utterly still as the man behind it scrutinizes it. The air hangs heavy with the unspoken words, the undeniable connection that lingered between you three, and imaginary weight of your disclosure pressing down on your throat at the very moment. You were well aware of the ruin that could be brought upon you with this discussion and yet you were still here, confessing the sins of his child to him. His response is stoic, the same measured tone that rings through your ears when you screw up. "Do what you must." The words hang over your head as you exit the manor, already on the phone with your superior officer for a warrant request for a George Russell.

Lando Norris

The daily Elemental assembly meeting was something you dreaded with a passion. 6 elements, all with wildly different personalities and priorities engaged in what you can only describe as immortal combat. Today's battle amongst the jewel-toned silks emblazoned with your crests was over the luscious piece of untouched land up north. You slammed your hands on the table as the Head of the Fire elements begins detailing the plan his council had drafted for the beautiful plot of soil. If he wanted to build a fucking heat machine, he could do it over your dead body. The unjustified stare he shoots you should send normal people back-pedalling into their opinions, except you were not "normal people". Unlike all the other heads here, you have had the terrible misfortune of being Lando's classmate all throughout your schooling years. It has been ruthless threats and one-upping each other since your first childhood memory. When he was elected head of his kind, you too were appointed leader of yours. And thus started a new chapter in your rivalry that continued to this present moment. You slam the car door angrily, muttering under your breath at the infuriating man and his stubborn opinions. "I thought we agreed not to bring work outside of the building." Your husband slides into the seat beside you, his scarlet orange suit blinding your vision as you shoot him a dry look. "Let's get lunch before my council meeting with the fire elders." The nonchalant tone rings through your ear drums and you feel it water down the rage that was blazing in you. "You have a community session right?", followed by "Shall we watch that movie you've been talking about tonight?" and the fire washes away completely.

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis doesn’t like this. The lumpy seats provide no support and the intrusion into his life is not something to just get used to. But it means he can continue to chase the dream of playing bass around the world, so he settles into the interview. Surprisingly, the interviewer was interested in more than his gym routine and the rockstar life, posing a question about his time in music school, more specifically the conservatory where he played the violin. And so, he recalls the late-night practice sessions and composing classes where is almost tore out all his hair, all his memories leading to the same person. The interviewer brings the topic to his final year showcase, the culmination of his studies and the last fond memory of sharing the stage with his favourite musician. “I understand you are friends with the pianist of the San Francisco Symphony,” the leading statement loaded with intention even as the interviewer shoots him her most brilliant smile. Lewis laughs. He can’t help it as he thinks of how you were probably watching this and spamming him with messages right now. He agrees with the interviewer, thinking of his confidante all the way in a different state at this moment, staying up late to watch the interview. “Just friends then?” The prompt sends him into a fit of giggles even as he answers. But he thinks of the flowers he sends for every single one of your performances and concerts, receiving a call from you afterwards with a selfie and he knows, that deep down, even as his lips define it as a friendship, his very soul knows it wants more than that with you.

Max Verstappen

You would kill Yuki one day. And if you didn’t, you would turn yourself a ghost and push him into a hole somewhere for ditching you at lunch. He knew damn well how you felt about being alone in a crowded Great Hall and the little spitball was still nowhere to be found. Damned betrayer. Gripping your books tightly, you wondered if it was too late to escape to the library. The sudden pressure around your wrist comes out of nowhere and you jump, instinctively glaring at the offender. Max releases your wrist at the sharp look and suddenly, you miss the warmth of his palm on your skin. You mentally slap yourself as you glance to the side and meet a familiar pair of eyes. Your sister sends a small smile in greeting, her canary yellow-trimmed robes rustling as she does. “I need a favor,” your friend poses the statement at you once the sharp look softens into something you won’t name. “What is it?” you ask, not trusting your voice. “Tutor me in runes tonight,” his reply comes instantly, though it sounds more like a demand. Your sister reacts to this by grabbing her boyfriend’s arm in confusion. “You are having trouble in runes?” Watching the exchange, you feel yourself inching away from the potential couple fight. What stops you, is Max turning to you and repeating the question. You can see your sister roll her eyes out of the corner of your mind and determining it as an okay sign, you agree before your brain can point out everything wrong with this scenario. You collapse onto the empty bench at your house's table, and like the devil he is, Yuki appears. At the sight of his happy beam, you are once again reminded of why you do not lunch alone.

205 notes · View notes