#can’t wait to post the full piece! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovedazai · 5 months

Text

PLAYING WITH THEIR HAIR

ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, tecchou

p.s.! ₊˚. inspired by this post on my old blog !! blowing u a kiss if u remember it, mwah <3 !!

DAZAI — dazai doesn’t know if he should let himself get used to this.

with freshly changed bandages and a full stomach, he lays his head on your lap, blissed out sighs falling from his lips as your fingers rub his scalp just right, gently tugging the knots out of his hair. he can’t remember the last time someone has made him feel so taken care of.

your nails drag across his temple, tucking his bangs behind his ear. he barely manages to suppress the shiver that makes its way up his spine when you trail your fingers down, tracing along his jawline.

he only opens his eyes when you lean down and kiss his nose, and he swears his heart stops; nobody has ever looked at him so softly before. he wants to spill his heart out, tell you how he’s certain you’re the reason he’s still alive.

he pulls the back of your head down to press a kiss onto your mouth instead, smiling against your lips when you huff. he whines when you pull away far too soon, raising himself on his elbows to follow you.

“you're supposed to be relaxing,” it’s always so hard to feel scolded by youーyou’re just too cute when you’re grumpyーbut it’s especially difficult now, when your smile is so sweet, and the tip of your nose brushes against his from how close you are.

he barely whispers "i am, i swear,” before his lips are on yours again, unable to hold in all of the love he feels; it bubbles up in his chest as he guides your hands back to his head.

the feeling of your mouth on his and your hands brushing through his hair is almost overwhelming, igniting something warm and tingly beneath his skin. he whines when you tug on his locks, soothing it away as your thumb traces the curve of his ear. he parts his lips enough for your tongue to trace inside, but you pull away all too soon again.

your nails trace along his scalp so gently, and you’re looking at him so lovingly, he doesn’t know what else to do besides pull you closer. he needs more.

his heart pounds against his ribcage, racing without his permission; he doesn’t think he can make it slow down, even if he tried.

CHUUYA — when chuuya comes out of the shower, it’s with a towel hanging low on his hips and the sweet scent of his expensive body scrub clinging to his skin.

you watch him sort through his drawer for a pair of underwear, the long section of his hair taunting you with the way it beads water, stray drops dribbling down his toned chest. his bangs fall limply over his nose, and your eyes follow his fingers as he brushes them back.

it doesn’t take long for him to catch your gaze on him, lips rising into a cocky smile as he looks at you over his shoulder.

“like what you see, baby?”

you nod, holding your grabby hands out from where you sit on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to join you. his smile only grows, and he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his waist before he settles in front of you.

the spot where your knees open is the perfect size for him to rest his head in your lap. you brush back all the stray pieces of his bangs, watching them flutter back against his forehead. his hair is like silk, smoothly gliding through the gaps of your fingers. you treat it like something fragile, even if chuuya was anything but.

"i'm starting to think you're only with me for my hair,” he tilts his head back to look at you, but you're quick to push it forward, shushing him. he pinches your thigh, but it doesn’t take long for his grumpy mumbles to fade away as your nails drag against his scalp.

you twirl the longer strands around your fingers, tangling and untangling them. you brush against the crown of his head, watching his shoulders sag. you wish he could have moments like this more often, always so busy protecting the city, protecting you.

you brush his hair to the side, placing a kiss on his neck as his baby hairs rise along his nape. when you peek at his face, his eyes are barely open, and soft, even breaths leave his parted lips.

“chuuya,” you brush your lips against his ear, and he lets out a little grunt in response. “do you want to go to sleep?"

“‘m awake, i swear,” he turns himself to rest his cheek on your thigh, pressing a kiss against the side of your knee. "keep goin’."

FYODOR — you had only come over to his desk out of curiosity, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was working on. before you even realize it, he’s talked you into keeping him company, and you end up in one of his extra chairs with your legs across his lap. the scent of earl grey fills the air from your half drank tea cups, a symphony of soft strings playing against the background of his quiet typing.

his ushanka is put aside, folded neatly on his desk. his bangs rest against his nose, stray pieces falling dangerously close to his pretty eyes. he hums his thanks as you tuck them behind his ear, touch lingering.

you run your fingers through the little pieces framing his face, tracing the way they curl inward towards his cheeks. your fingers catch on knots, and you frown. you don’t even notice that he’s looking at you from the corner of his eye as you comb through his hair, gently detangling it.

“you should take better care of yourself, fedya,” you whisper, twirling the smoothed strands around your finger.

“there’s no need,” he smiles. “you already do such a lovely job.”

it was rare for fyodor to let his emotions present themselves so physically, but in the safety of your gaze, he lets himself visibly relax. you brush your fingertips through his hair diligently, and each time your nails graze a certain spot on his scalp, his eyes fall closed, a little smile growing on his lips. he was just too cute, but you knew better than to tease; it was rare to see him so genuinely at peace. you wonder how many people had the chance to touch him so intimately, if at all.

“you’re quite the distraction today, dear,” he comments, leaning back in his chair, hand leaving his keyboard to settle on your thigh.

"am i?" you gather his bangs between your fingers, brushing them back so you can press your lips to his forehead. you let the dark locks slide through the gaps between your fingers, watching them flutter back down into place against his forehead.

just as your hand leaves his head, cold fingers wrap around your wrist, holding it in place.

"i didn't tell you to stop, did i?”

SIGMA ー when sigma first came into your room, it was with shaky hands and downturned lips, confidence visibly wavering in a way he only let show in front of you. you draw him into your lap, and he rests his head against your thighs with a deep exhale. you pull on his tie, loosening it as he scrunches his eyes shut, trying his best to relax.

“it’s okay,” you whisper. “i got you.”

you rub your thumb across his forehead, soothing his furrowed brows. he’s stiff in your hold, gripping his thighs through his pants, cheeks dusted pink.

you smooth your hand across his head, watching the way it makes his lips twitch. you brush through the purple side of his bangs, each choppy layer fluttering back down into place through your fingers.

you trace along the zig-zag of his part with just enough pressure to melt away the tension in his neck and make him unclench his jaw. both sides of his hair are separated perfectly, and you twirl them around your finger, watching the colors swirl together like soft serve ice cream.

when you look at his face again, he’s finally relaxed, with his pretty lips parted and his long, white lashes resting against his cheeks. you bend down and kiss him, smiling when his eyes open dazedly.

“have i ever told you how pretty you are?”

“yes,” he mumbles, fidgeting beneath your gaze. even quieter, he says, “but you’re the prettiest.”

his face scrunches up into a frown when you coo over him, pinching his cheek as he tries to swat your hand away. he catches it between his own, intertwining your fingers.

“can you…” he draws small hearts with his thumb on your skin. “…keep going?”

“only if you take the rest of the day off and spend it with me instead.”

he raises your hand to his lips, smiling against your knuckles. “consider it done.”

TECCHOU ー tecchou had sought you out as soon as he came home. he’d barely stripped off his uniform before he was crawling on top of you and snuggling his face into your chest, effectively pinning you to your bed. you smooth your hand down the lines of muscles along his back, tracing up and down the dip between his shoulder blades.

you trail your hand up his nape, burying your fingers into his hair. you comb through the mess, endlessly entertained at how it defiantly pops up in all directions no matter how many times you run your fingers through the strands or smooth them down beneath your palm. his expression is neutral as always, eyes closed, lashes resting against his rosy cheeks.

he’s been so still and quiet, you thought you’d lulled him to sleep, until you pulled your hand back and were immediately met with wide, expectant eyes.

you grab one of the longer strands, tickling his cheek with it.

“you stopped,” he says. “keep going, please.”

a giddy smile grows on your face, delighted he's enjoying this as much as you are. you gather his bangs through your fingers, running your nails against his scalp and gently pushing them back. his entire body is lax except for his hands, gripping your shirt, pressing you closer into his firm chest.

his eyes are heavy and lidded, finally falling shut when you scratch against his scalp a little firmer. his head tilts forward, but he straightens it each time, resisting sleep. you press a kiss against the little markings under his eye.

“why don’t you go to sleep?” you whisper, and his eyes crack open.

“but this feels so good,” he drops his cheek back to your chest. “i don’t want you to stop.”

“i won’t, i promise,” you seal it with a kiss against forehead. “your hair is so soft. i could do this forever.”

“okay,” you twirl a section of wayward strands around your finger, tugging gently, and he sighs a content, heavy exhale. “if you promise.”

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #sigma x reader #tecchou x reader #tetchou x reader #bsd fluff #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #fyodor fluff

3K notes · View notes

writemekpop · 8 months

Text

Imperfect | Lee Jeno

Summary: You and Jeno make a list of everything you don’t like about each other.

Genre: Established relationship AU, angst

Word count: 1k

“You don’t believe in soulmates?” Jeno says, as you lie with your head on his chest. His fingers freeze in your hair, showing his shock.

“I mean, you’re not gonna like everything about your partner,” you say.

“You don’t like – things about me?” Jeno says. “Like what?”

Your breath falls short.

“Not big things!” you say, struggling to dig yourself out of this hole. “Your aftershave! It’s a little… intense.” You suppress a grin. “Like I’m drowning.”

Jeno flops back onto the pillow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve gotta have things you don’t like about me too!” you insist.

“I can’t think of any,” Jeno groans. “I’m too busy trying to smell myself!”

You hug Jeno tightly, savouring the feeling of his tight muscles beneath your hands.

“Let’s just make a list, okay? Whenever something bothers us, we’ll write it down, then at the end of the week, we’ll share. No fights.”

Jeno smiles. “Good idea.”

-- One week later --

Jeno tries to snatch the piece of paper from you. “Just show me! It’s been ages...”

You wrestle the paper out of his hands. Your heart is racing. “One sec! Just making some – last minute – edits.”

You are desperately scratching half of your list out with a pencil – because you realised that Jeno’s list was just a tiny post-it note, whereas you had a full sheet.

Jeno snatches the paper from your fingers. “A-ha!” Jeno says.

He clears his throat dramatically. “Mis-matching socks. Too afraid to talk to the people at the store.” He sits down on the bed, a frown growing on his face. “Kind of ugly… laugh.” The paper starts to shake in his hands. “Sort of – a – crybaby.”

Jeno tries to fling the paper on the floor, but it just wafts slowly down. His chest is rising and falling fast. He scrubs his eyes furiously.

“Hey! Don’t be mad!” you say, sitting next to him. “You wrote a list about me too. Oh, Jeno, please don’t be upset.”

Jeno glares at you, his eyes red. “I’m not upset. Because that would make me a huge crybaby, and you hate that.”

He storms out of the room.

You scramble to the floor and pick up Jeno’s list, on its yellow Post-it. You read what is written on it.

You sink slowly to the floor. You feel like a horrible person. You wish you had never been born. You finally found a good guy, and you stamped on his heart like it was nothing.

List of things wrong with Y/n:

Nothing

You’re perfect

---

You are crouched outside the bathroom door. Jeno has been in there for an hour.

“Jeno, honey, please talk to me,” you say.

“Get out!” Jeno yells.

“You didn’t read the end of the list!” you say. “It says – none of this matters, because you’re the kindest, most passionate, most caring man I’ve ever met.”

You hear the lock clicking, and jump to your feet.

Jeno opens the door, just a crack. “You don’t get it, do you?” His stare is ice-cold. “All my life, I was told that I wasn’t tough enough, brave enough, man enough. Until I met you, and you told me I was enough.” He shakes his head. “But you were lying.”

He closes the door in your face. Through the door, you hear him say, “You know what hurts? The fact that I truly thought you were perfect. I was wrong. You’re mean, Y/n.”

---

For the next two weeks, you spend every day reminding Jeno all the reasons that you love him - but he still gives you the silent treatment.

One day, when you and Jeno are eating dinner in silence, Jeno slapped a piece of paper onto the table.

“What is that?” you say.

“It’s my list.” Jeno says. “For you.” He picks it up and reads aloud. “Wears too much makeup. Judgemental. Mean. Can never take responsibility in arguments…”

Each word feels like a slap in the face. You thought that Jeno was too sweet to notice any of that stuff, but you were wrong.

You clasp his hand, as tears start to fall. “I’m sorry, Jeno. I’m gonna treat you better, I promise.”

Jeno frowns. “Wait. You’re not… mad?”

You shake your head.

Jeno’s eyebrows rise. “You’re not gonna deny it? Or fight back?”

You shake your head. “No. These past few weeks, I’ve realised that I – I don’t like looking at who I really am. Because who I am is… ugly. But I’m gonna change.”

Jeno clasps both your hands in his. “Oh, Y/n.”

He comes round the table and pulls you into a tight, warm hug. You have been craving his touch for so long that that hug restores you to life.

“I love you, you stupid idiot,” Jeno says.

“I love you, too,” you squeak.

“Now who’s the crybaby?” Jeno says, chuckling.

You laugh through your tears. “Shut up.”

Jeno’s smile is warm, all signs of anger completely gone. But you have a niggling feeling you can't quite shake.

“Do you really think I wear too much make up?” you ask, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

Jeno scratches his head. “Maybe… I dunno, I think I was just lashing out.”

You stay silent.

“Y/n, I think you’re gorgeous, inside and out. Smoking hot. Ten out of ten. Definitely would bang.”

You snort.

Jeno smiles, eyes crinkling. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate it when we fight.”

You bury your head in Jeno’s neck, touching your lips against his soft skin. You can feel his soft sighs against your ear. Heaven.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

1K notes · View notes

yourheart-inmyhands · 5 months

Note

I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning.

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction.

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office.

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you.

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

1K notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 10 months

Text

Seven Days Masterlist | JJK | complete

🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother's friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️ series rating: M 🗓️ total wc: 34,413 🗓️ series warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, biological clock ticking woes, angsty argument, feeling like being emotionally cheated on despite being single, parents with toxic viewpoints, judgemental people, self doubt, explicit sexual content: each chapter will provide specifics, but in general, there will be sex in every part, each one showcasing jungkook and reader in various types of sexual situations including sleepy sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), light bondage sex, quickie sex with one partner not breaking off another night, drunk sex (dubious consent but neither feels taken advantage of), make up sex, and semi-public sex. 🗓️ an: please, please, please, blame @colormepurplex2 for this. It was not something I planned to do, but she talked me into it (she did not have to try hard, let’s be honest) and she is 100% right. This story needed to be told. Leah also helped me create the banners, so if you like them, it’s because of her creative input! @downbad4yoongi also deserves blame now, but in the best way, for helping to expand the characters depth, and @heathfritillary-blog for her writing knowledge helping me find the motivators and reasons for the characters, challenging me to be a better writer. @mrsparkjimin18, @peachiilovesot7, and @abitjess, thank you for all that you do, hyping me up and helping me to piece together this story! 🗓️ an 2: reader being a teacher plays no real role in the story other than to help link the characters, it is summer break, so school is not in session! 🗓️ series summary: “Leave you with that afterglow, show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is…” Jungkook has been your best friend since you met him when he was still in college thanks to your younger brother, Yoongi. Despite your age gap, he easily fell into your world, your life, and your bed. Forced to confront the growing feelings as the pressure to meet adult milestones like your friends grow stronger, you struggle to be honest with yourself. “What you waiting for, better come and hit ya goals.”

Monday - wind it back, i’ll take it slow

wc: 1,741 summary: “Wind it back, I’ll take it slow, Leave you with that afterglow…” Jungkook has been your best friend since you met him when he was still in college thanks to your brother, Yoongi. Despite your age gap, he easily fell into your world, your life, and your bed…

posted: Monday 7-24-23 @ 9 am

Tuesday - “lemme swallow your pride”

wc: 3,629 summary: “Open up say ahhh, Come here, baby, let me swallow your pride…” Jungkook comes over for an impromptu movie night that triggers some internal angst. You share a little, and he shares a lot... and your angst turns a little green. To change the topic when it gets a little too deep, you deepthroat him.

posted: Tuesday 8-1-2023 @ 12 am

Wednesday - “it’s the way that you can ride”

wc: 4,622 summary: “It’s the way that you can ride, it’s the way that you can ride…” Picking an outfit for a wedding is hard enough without your friends with benefits turning you on. Especially when he makes a tie look so sexy, you can’t help but use it to get him right where you need him to be. Ties make great reigns, and Jungkook is willing for you to be the leading lady, in more ways than one.

posted: Wednesday 8-2-2023 @ 12 am

Thursday - “so break me off another night”

wc: 3,596 + text messages summary: “So break me off another night” might be what he says, but after a day full of meddling parents, a quickie, and meddling friends, some things come to light, and there might not be another night for you to break him off...

posted: Thirstday 8-10-2023 @ 12 am

Friday - “i must be favored to know ya”

wc: 5,665 + text messages summary: “I must be favored to know ya.” Having Jungkook in your life is so much sweeter than you ever thought. It would be great if you could just tell him, but showing him is as good as it gets for now…until you slip up and let the cat out of the bag. But it turns out, you aren’t the only one who has feelings for him, and you definitely aren’t the only one who wants to ride him. When your biggest fears come to light, knowing Jungkook the way that you do might become a thing of the past.

posted: Friday 8-18-2023 @ 12 pm

Saturday - “i kiss your waist and ease your mind”

wc: 6,323 + text message summary: “i kiss your waist and ease your mind.” The only thing that could make you feel better is the same thing that made you feel worse. You and Jungkook are both confused with your emotions, but two different stories help you both see a bit more clearly. The only problem is that when the two of you get around each other, clarity goes bye-bye. don’t let these soft lyrics fool you; make up sex doesn’t actually solve any issues if sex is the only communication that happens.

posted: Monday 9-4-2023 @ 10:57 am

Sunday - “i'll be loving you right, seven days a week”

wc: 8,837 + text message summary: “i’ll be loving you right, seven days a week.” Yoongi's wedding has brought up a lot of feelings, but with so many things left unsaid, it's hard to know where you and Jungkook stand. Can the two of you wrap around each other and bring life to a relationship?

posted: Sunday 10-8-2023 @ 10:01 pm

2K notes · View notes

cadavercowboy · 1 year

Text

In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?”

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him.

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes.

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad.

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could.

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs.

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored.

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting.

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state.

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs.

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of.

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going.

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure.

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky’s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in.

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours.

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so.

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle.

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing.

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm.

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously.

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless.

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter.

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force.

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume.

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp.

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper.

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache.

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#i used the word cock 24 times i'm so sorry #barely edited this so i'm sorry for that too #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepfather au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

2K notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 4 months

Note

I heard you wanted some muscian Eren thirst so I'll do my best:

What if Ms. YN (back before she & Eren got matching/couple tattoos) got a custom temporary tattoo of her man's name & placed it like a tramp stamp? What if that night when she's performing with her crew she posts some spicy pics flashing the fake tattoo waiting for Eren to notice.

What if he noticed & when she gets home home & starts to undress she feels his hand travel up her body, bending her over the counter as he lifts her shirt to see his name just above her ass? Now YN's gone & awaken his need to mark her. Poor thing, she didn't expect him to damn near break her but she plans to surprise him with a cute lil permanent "E" on her ankle if this is the reaction a fake tattoo got. She ends up walking funny the next day for sure.

OMG BABES!! you’re an absolute genius 😭 I love this so bad chdkhdkd

because imagine…you’re on tour, traveling the country or it’s your first time performing internationally. Either way, you’ve been apart from Eren for quite some time. Although dancing on stage and living the dream with your girls is amazing, you miss your husband! Neither of you are strangers to extended periods of separation due to work. Long nights on the road, weeks at a time in different locations that wasn’t the home you shared together. It admittedly took its toll, in many forms…

“Yes, baby..I miss you too. I miss you so much..”

“So come home already. Please, (y/n)..I need you.”

the shrill cries and whiny pleas spilling from your beloved, EJ. The sound of the mega star rapper’s moans pouring from your phone’s speakers as he stroked himself on the end. That tight fist enclosed around his cock as he played the very vivid imagery of your previous nights together in his mind. It was quite apparent that he wasn’t taking too kindly to his wife being thousands of miles away from him. Watching you vicariously through a phone screen as he surveyed that beautiful body. Once twirling on the pole half nude and shrouded in glitter and now, completely naked and on full display for him. So egregiously horny with no shame for his blatant submission. Drooling and bucking his hips up into his enclosed fingers..

“Baby..I can’t..soon as I get home though. You know imma take care of you, daddy. Imma give you what you need..”

a statement he intended for you to follow through on. Because in the days since that very salacious phone call, he’d hand nothing but time and unbridled obsession on his hands..carefully surveying and watching your Instagram account like that of a hawk. Breaking his very own conditions on social media just to get a peak of his princess..his gorgeous wife who was fresh off of a performance with one of his respected ‘colleagues’, who’d joined the tour as well. Spinning around that metal pole with six inch Pleasers twirling in the air. A sight that he loved to witness. But alas, Eren would be met with another one. One far more savory and the catalyst for his greed and lust. The same greed and lust he’d undoubtedly take out on you the second you touched down back at the shared Miami estate!..

“You gonna give me what I need, right? That’s what you said?..so do it, give me that fucking pussy!”

tearing and ripping you out of your clothes before you could even so much as reach the staircase! Folding you over the kitchen counter with a rough hand scaling the curvature of your back. His open palm smacking roughly against your plump ass with heavy slaps…he was relentless! However, the reason for his sudden aggression wasn’t just the fact that he missed you. No!..but rather, the aforementioned sight had awoken something serious in him. The need to make love..the need to mark and claim you like that of a primal animal!

“..Rennn! Okaaay, fuck! Take it, please..”

because what he saw was a rather interesting piece of ink riddling your skin. A tattoo…and one of his name to be more specific! Something he was blissfully unaware that you had obtained. The fact alone that you had did so and behind his back nonetheless had Eren ready to pound that that tight pussy and fill it with every spilling drop of his cum until you couldn’t even walk straight. “You’re so sneaky, baby. I like that shit..didn’t think I’d see it, did you?” taunting mercilessly as he begins to rut his hips into your backside. The thunderous claps of your asscheeks against his pelvis with fluid yet deep strokes, one sharper than the next. All you could do was maintain that perfect arch and grasp for the marble countertop with all your strength to bear the sharp thrusts. But it wasn’t a reaction of misery. You loved it! You loved seeing him become so riled up at the thought of having you stamped with his seal. Clawing his fingernails into your waist and tugging you back with sharp gasps hissing in your ear.

“Tell me it’s mine, baby. Let daddy know who that shit belongs to..” the pure sex appeal dripping from his voice like that of honey. But he didn’t have to take your word for it. Because after countless rounds of rough and filthy lovemaking in every inch of the house. Taking you from the kitchen, the staircase and even the upstairs balcony for all the nights of pent up sexual frustration, you’d find yourself stumbling lopsidedly to the tattoo parlor. The shop where he’d gotten countless pieces on his own body done. Sitting upright in a chair as the artist engraved a single capital ‘E’ on your skin; right next to the diamond tennis anklet with his initials on it. Simply smirking at the thought of his reaction…and you didn’t have to wait long. Because nightfall would come around and you’d find yourselves engaging in another bout of steamy sex. This time in the comfort of your bedroom with R&B faintly thumping from the TV..pale red lighting illuminating the room and his chiseled body hovering over you. Placing tender kisses along your calf as he hoisted your leg up to his shoulder. Those movements getting lower as his rings grazed your skin. He’d whisper sweet nothings to compliment those pecks, telling you how beautiful you were but his reaction would turn from merely elated to all but ecstatic when he spotted it…

“You like it?..”

being met with a toothy smirk and the faint glint of his silver slugs on the bottom row of his teeth staring back at you. That was most certainly an understatement because he’d prove to you just how much he loved seeing you rock his name. Both physically and metaphorically..

“..that’s my girl..”

and soon, everyone else would too!

582 notes · View notes

doki-doki-imagines · 4 months

Text

Power of a hug feat mk1 Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kenshi Takahashi author note:as my fave memer said "the wettest and most humid kiss is nothing in comparison to the power of an hug". There are other characters that I have in mind with this prompt so I hope the post will go well lol.

tw: Kenshi part is suggestive.

You are used to being alone, you have been for most of your years, and you are sure Johnny would never describe you as clingy. You give him his space, he gives you yours, nice and comfortable. That’s why when he told you about this expedition that was going to take him a long time and far away, you didn’t budge, just kissed him goodbye and told him to come back in one piece.

Okay, the departure wasn’t so blunt, and maybe there weren’t just kisses and maybe you were sobbing while telling him to be safe because you knew that Johnny wasn’t going out for a movie, but this is the gist of it.

And now you are sitting on Johnny’s armchair, wearing his favorite cover, the one dripping off his perfume, reading, trying to get your mind elsewhere while your heart silently shouts in pain, while your brain screams at it to shut up, because you are strong and even if you haven’t heard him for 2 months you shouldn’t miss him so much, because you are independent and yadda yadda; you miss him so much you’d curl up in a hole and get moldy there.

You sit there, ‘till you recognize a familiar sound, “is that Liu Kang voice?” you think, already standing up. There are other voices outside the house, but soon they all fade when you hear one in particular.

It’s Johnny’s one.

You’d like to stay in, wait for him inside nonchalantly walking towards him to greet your boyfriend as elegantly as you can muster.

Outside is snowing and you are wearing shorts (made of wool, but still shorts) and slippers but your mind simply doesn’t work, heart beating freely, pumping blood with new vigor.

“Johnny!” You open the door, freezing air hitting your body with full force, but you feel nothing.

Your legs run toward your boyfriend before your mind perceives your action. He turns around at your voice, and he is so beautiful your legs almost give up…almost.

“Oh-“ You jump in his arms, knocking him a few steps behind, not noticing all the gifts he had to throw on the ground to take you. You sigh in his arms, his strong arms now enveloping your shivering body “Kitty, are you shivering because you missed me?” He jokingly says,

“Yeah, it’s because I missed you so much.” Your voice breaks, your arms around his neck, legs gripping his waist as tightly as you can.

His hands slid on your thighs, thumbs drawing hearts on your skin, no goose-bumps, he is so warm and you are so full of love that you can’t feel anything else anymore.

Your foreheads kiss, breaths mingling, smiles stuck on both of your faces, warm brown eyes locked into yours.

His friends are long gone, leaving the two lovebirds alone.

He had to leave you there, in a snowstorm in the hands of the enemies, alone. You always have a plan, they always work out that’s why he trusts you so much even if you are a total dumbass.

“Go Bi-Han, don’t worry for me.” Your voice was trembling, you knew that you couldn’t survive and you also knew that he needed to return home alive.

And he follows your order because you are always right and things always go your way. Even when you are against him. Even when you tease him making his ears flush red. You always come up victorius.

Bi-Han stops on his track, snow falling on his shoulders. He can’t breathe. He hates you.

He’d like to sit there and let snow bury him. He can’t, he is Lin Kuei grandmaster whose willpower never waver, and who is headstrong like nobody else. Bi-Han has seen dear ones die in front of his eyes, betray him, this time mustn’t be any different.

Bi-Han feels like crying. You aren’t a fighter, but he wanted to bring you with him because nobody could outsmart you, and your brain was needed for this mission.

What an idiot. He tightens his fists, eyes closed so tight that wrinkles appear at the corners, no punishment would be enough for his mistake, never enough whips, never enough slaps.

He stays there a few more minutes, he couldn’t go back home, not ‘till he won’t be sure tears wouldn’t spill from his eyes.

Then he hears a voice, more like a whine, but it’s something he has heard many times before. Bi-Han starts to run towards the voice, walking much harder with so much snow.

“Told you-“ You are there, sitting on the snow, trembling like a newborn kitty, eyes shining, and with that shit-eating grin of yours “my plans never fail!” He crouches down towards you, he must be going crazy, his index and middle fingers pinch your cheek.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” You are there, real, talking to him like you didn’t say goodbye to him a few minutes prior. He sits next to you, onyx eyes wide.

“You are alive” He is able to say, voice hoarse as always, mask reducing the sound to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I would have never let anyone take my life, they have to get in line you know? Since you were the first one to promise me you were going to-“

Bi-Han doesn’t let you finish the phrase, his arms hugging your torso so close and so strongly against his body that he knocks air out of your lungs.

“I was so worried.” His right hand grips the back of your head, holding it in the nook of his neck. His voice trembles and he feels you stilling in his arms. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, your chest rising up and down at each breath you take; you are alive.

He almost lost you.

You free your head from his grip, thin ice on your hair like a veil made by his unrestrained magic, your hands now slowly removing his mask, showing you his trembling lips, you look at his eyes, he knows they are watery, his vision is foggy. Then your delicate fingers grip the collar of his uniform, your lips pressing for the first time against his.

It is a short moment, Bi-Han closes his eyes, and when he opens them your lips aren’t there anymore, but he still feels something warm; your arms reciprocating the hug.

It is suffocating but at the same time makes him feel alive, a warmth that envelops him entirely, that makes his heart run like a wild horse, but that puts his mind at ease; he is safe, you are too in his arms.

He couldn’t ask for more.

“K-Kenshi-“ You gasp, your hips grinding onto his, his tattoed hands running from your chest to your tummy, never resting, never letting you go.

He missed you. Kenshi missed you terribly. It wasn’t just sex, as good as it is, he missed your voice, your hands in his ones, your gentle lips on his cheeks. He missed hearing you talking about your day, about that terrible co-worker. He missed hearing your laughter and your hands massaging his scalp when he felt particularly stressed.

A moan dies in his throat after a delicious roll of your hips. Yeah, he missed this too.

You are close he can feel it and he is not far behind, but there is still something he desperately needs to do.

He lifts up, sitting now, his arms around your waist, hands on your lower back, both guiding your movements and keeping you close to his chest.

“I missed you so much-“ A whimper leaves his mouth, he can feel your lips so close to his, your breath labored, your body so close creates a delicious friction that just makes his mind fog even more.

“Me too, me too-“ You hug him back, your arms tight against his back, nails scratching his back while he helps you both reach completion.

You keep each other close, breaths still heavy, bodies sweaty.

“I missed you so much.” You are the first one to break the silence, Kenshi notices a hint of sadness.

Hint that became something more when the hand caressing your cheek meets a tear. The pang he feels in his heart hurts so much, but he also knows it is deserved.

“Me too honey, me too.” His right hand massages the back of your head, while the other traces heart-shaped patterns on your back.

Kenshi doesn’t let go, now laying on your shared bed, you on top of him. He can’t see your face, but losing sight made him more sensible, noticing every gasp leaving your lips, every twitch of your muscles.

He restrains himself, he can’t cry, but every gasp that leaves your lips is like a stab in his chest, each tear pulling your body closer, your hearts beating in synchronized sorrow.

But Kenshi can’t tell you that next time it will be different. He can’t reassure you that he will be safe.

He keeps you close to his chest ‘till he feels your breath slowing down, now stable. Kenshi keeps caressing your back, feeling his muscles relax, exhaustion washing over him too.

Kenshi soon falls asleep, wishing to still have you in his arms when he’ll regain consciousness the next morning.

#mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #johnny cage x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #johnny cage #bi han #kenshi takahashi #mortal kombat imagine #mk1 imagine #mortal kombat x you #mk1 x you

461 notes · View notes

mavrintarou · 3 months

Text

[3:45PM] Suna Rintarou (prequel of DD) [2]

Happy birthday to Suna Rintarou! I know I've made him a clingy fox but I honestly think this man is a clingy fox when he's in love.

Warning: clingy man and smut (18+)

Prequel (part 1) Prequel (part 3)

“So, what’s going on with you and this woman?” Osamu inquired, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

The glass cup froze at Rin’s lips, and the whiff of yeast in the beer hit his senses. Gulping his beer, he set the cup down. “It’s going…”

When he woke up alone in his bed two days ago, he was slapped in the face with disappointment and anger.

“Haah…” a bitter laugh escapes his dry lips, lips that he could still taste her from hours ago.

Rin slams his fist into the pillow she was sleeping on out of anger and frustration.

He frowned when his fist came into contact with what seemed to be a piece of paper.

Hey sleepy head,

I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t budge. I was called in for an overnight flight, there was no one else near that could do it so I had to go.

I’ll text you when I land in Istanbul.

Y/n

Rin waited for her text like an obedient puppy that entire day.

Looking back, he can’t remember the last time he was excited to receive a text message.

[**note: The green color text is dialogue text message exchanged in the past]

Hey.

After leaving him hanging for over 15 hours, he can’t say he was elastic to receive a Hey from her.

Hey you. He texted back.

She quickly responded As I promised, I’d text you when I landed. Were you upset when I wasn’t there when you woke up?

Yes. He texted back. Very upset.

A little taste of your own medicine? :P

Rin let out a scoff.

Don’t be mad, I left you a note though, right?

She did, unlike him.

You did, not mad at all, sad but not mad. When can I see you again? He sounded desperate and was desperate, but he didn’t care.

I thought you said one date.

He chewed his lip, and quickly typed I didn’t specify…

You mean you haven’t had your full fill of me yet?

“No,” Rin answered out loud, his fingers quickly typing his response. Fuck no. If I didn’t make it very clear, Y/l/n Y/f/n, I’m very interested in you and want to get to know you more. He doesn’t know where this confidence is coming from, but he is going to piggyback off of it before he loses it. I don’t mean it as in your body, that’s a bonus. I know we are very compatible in bed, you can’t deny that. But I want to get to know you on a mental and emotional level too. And other physical levels too.

When he didn’t see her respond quickly, he groaned. She had the power to put him on his toes, he was willing to admit he was wrapped around her fingers.

His phone finally dinged a notification.

I’ll be home on the 25th.

It’s the 25th and he hasn’t heard from her, the last time they spoke was more than 48 hours ago.

Boundaries, his conscience is always reminding him. As if the universe is watching him and shaking their heads, they have been sending all sorts of videos and posts about dating. He’s been seeing them all over his social media platforms. He began watching dating tips and it opened his eyes.

But today was his birthday, and she said she would be home on his birthday. She didn’t specifically say on his birthday but on the 25th, his birthday, so he was going to convince himself she was returning for his birthday.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Hey, are you free for a call?

Instead of replying, he called her.

“Hey,” he breathed. He hurried out of the bar and shuffled away from the loud noise coming from the entrance of the bar.

“Am I… catching you at a bad time?”

God, I missed her voice, Rin thought.

“No,” his breath is visible against the cold January night air. “Are you home?”

“Yeah,” she sounded like she was shuffling around, “just ended my shift. Are you… still down to meet?”

Rin looked at his watch, it was already 10 PM, was she… implying…

“I’m out at the bar at the moment, do you want to come out?”

It was a moment of silence before she replied, “sure, text me the address.”

Twenty minutes later, Rin kept looking at the door, his eyes instantly at the door every time it opened but would look away disappointed when it wasn’t the person he was waiting for.

Atsumu followed his gaze, “are you waiting on your girl? Is she coming here?”

The corner of Rin’s mouth curved into a smirk, his girl. “Yeah, she’s coming.”

At last, the person he’d been waiting for walked through the door and glanced around the place. Standing up, Rin marches over towards her.

Y/n smiles the moment their eyes meet, “hey – “

The rest of her words are cut off as Rin pulls her into a hug. It was a full-on bear hug, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck and shoulder. “Missed you…”

Y/n pulls back and frowns, “had a lot to drink already?”

He nodded his head, his bangs flapping.

Y/n reached to brush his bangs away, “where’s your table at?”

He shook his head, grabbing her hands and bringing them to his chest. “Let’s go…”

“Go where? Shouldn’t we at least say hang out for a little bit – “

“No, we can go, go anywhere… I’ve had enough drinks for the night.” It was true, he didn’t want to drink anymore now that Y/n was here right beside him. He just wants alone time with her.

He groaned when he heard his name being called by Miya twins. Looking over his shoulder, he cast a glare at them to shut up but that only taunts them to shout his name even more.

Before he could do something, Y/n dragged him towards the table.

“Oho! You’re Suna’s girl?” Atsumu’s loud voice rang throughout the bar. “I’m Atsumu, this is Osamu, we’re high school buddies of Suna’s.”

Y/n smiled at them returning the greeting and all Rin could think about was how he was not happy to share her smile with his friends. Her smile was his and his only.

“Okay, Suna, stop glaring at us, go.” Osamu waved his hand in a shooing manner. “Happy birthday by the way.”

Rin watched Y/n’s eyes widen before she looked at him, “that’s right, it’s your birthday!” She leaned over and waved at a waitress, “a round of beer and shots at table 3 please!”

“Rin…” Y/n shakes him by his chin, “put in your passcode…”He opened his tired eyes and stared at his door lock, his mouth opened but Y/n covered his mouth before he could speak. “Just press it, don’t say it.”

He moved her hand, mumbling, “how do you not know…”

Y/n frowned, “I don’t know and I shouldn’t know your passcode, we’re not that close yet.”

Rin stood on his own and held a finger, “watch,” he used that finger to press his passcode in. “Now, you know.”

Y/n looks away with a smile tugging at her lips, “get inside.” She pulls at the door and drags him inside.

His head was pounding. He stares at the ceiling contemplating his life choices from last night.

A sigh of relief comes from his left and his head turns immediately.

He was 99% sure it was Y/n with her back facing him but there was that 1% that left him feeling uneasy. He couldn’t remember how he made it home but he was sure that he remembered seeing Y/n come to the bar… it was everything after that that he had no recollection of.

It was most definitely Y/n, she fit perfectly beside him just as he remembered. Carefully, he leaned over to get a glimpse and silently sighed in relief when it was her.

His brows frowned when he noticed the fresh blue-purple bruise on her right cheekbone. Without thinking, he flipped her on her back, waking her up. “What happened to your face?” He carefully cupped her face, his breath hitching when she flinched. “Who hurt you? Who gave you this bruise?”

“You, you did,” Y/n murmured, closing her eyes. “I’m very tired, I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. So let me sleep please.” She shifts and wiggles until she can pull the covers over her.

That’s when Rin realized they had been sleeping on top of his comforters instead of under.

He rolled her on her back again, “I’ll let you sleep in a bit but tell me, how did I give you this bruise? Did – did I hit you?”

She opened her left eye and stared at him. Genuine concern was written on his face making her think twice before she teased him. She didn’t doubt at all that he would ever lay his hand on a woman in violent ways, she can only imagine all the things running in his head. “No, Rin, you did not hit me. You head-butt me instead, on accident of course.”

She explained how she brought him inside and was trying to get him in bed when he tripped and knocked the both of them on his bed. His head collided with her cheek painfully hard making her see stars for a few seconds. He knocked out, locking her beneath him. She had no choice but to just throw his comforters over them instead of getting under.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, eyes on her bruise. “Can I… sleep beside you?”

“Sure,” she smiled tiredly and closed her eyes, instantly falling asleep once again.

She must have been so tired and she still came out to the bar. He thought to himself. As gently as possible without waking her up, he pulled the comforters up to her chin. She was so deeply asleep she didn’t stir when he pressed a kiss to her temple and a faint one to the bruise.

Y/n was not used to having someone cuddle against her, let alone a 6’3 grown man.

But she didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

Looking at her watch, it was the late afternoon already. They had slept their entire day away.

That was something she was used to, whenever she would return from flying halfway around the world. She would need half a day to a whole day to readjust to the time zone.

Except this last flight. She left in a hurry as soon as she could and dropped off her luggage at home. She should have showered and would have but he had called her.

She quickly sprayed some perfume and left her place to meet him.

Y/n couldn’t count how many times she had reread his text message.

I don’t mean it as in your body, that’s a bonus. I know we are very compatible in bed, you can’t deny that. But I want to get to know you on a mental and emotional level too.

If she was honest with herself, she would say Rin was head over heels for her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to it, but she had never had someone younger than her show this much interest in her. She would admit that she did not realize how much younger he was to her. She thought he was her age if not older.

With her lifestyle revolving around her career, having a committed relationship was not a priority for her. If it wasn’t for his persistence and foolishness in kneeling in front of her in public, she would not have given him a second chance.

It’s an unspoken rule that you don’t have second times with the same person that was meant to be a one-night stand.

But Y/n herself… couldn’t help but give in to him.

Enjoy it while you can, she told herself.

A low groan rumbled from the body that was squishing her, “are you hungry?”

Y/n thought for a second before responding, “yes, now that you mentioned it.”

Rin lifts his head off her shoulder, his hair flopped upward messily. His eyes zeroed in on her bruise. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“Did it get uglier?” Her tone is teasing, she reaches to touch it but Rin catches her wrist.

“No, take this as a compliment but you can make a bruise look beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles. “Come, let’s go get something to eat.”

Rin didn’t want to part from her. He had a feeling they would go their way after this meal.

He had ordered food and had it delivered to his place to avoid having Y/n go out in public with the bruise on her cheek.

So he took his merry time eating his hangover Miso soup.

He turned a blind eye each time she would tilt her watch to check the time.

“Are you regretting your life choices with alcohol and beer?” Y/n teased watching him sigh and stare at his soup. Y/n frowned when he looked up at her like a child afraid to ask a question. “What?”

“Are you going to leave after this?” He finally asked the question that had been eating him up inside.

“Do you not have work tomorrow?”

He shook his head, “no, I have the rest of the week off.” He waited a heartbeat before asking, “what about you?”

It was Y/n’s longer time off. Once a month, she’ll get four to five days off before resuming her hectic schedule again. Usually with her time off, she spent the time relaxing and running any errands she needed to while home.

Without any set plans, she caught on to his clear obvious hint. Y/n, in a playful yet earnest manner, narrowed her eyes at him and inquired, “why do you ask?”

“Because I want to hang out with you.” He answered right away. “We could do anything you want…” He looked at her with waiting eyes, “I just want to be with you.”

Y/n couldn’t resist the delight of being desired by someone, particularly someone as captivating as Rintarou. His charm and voice had her completely enchanted, and the more time she spent with him, the more spellbound she became. Is he completely unaware that his words to her evoked sensations in her heart that she had only fantasized about?

Being the one to break the intense staring going on between them, she could feel her face warming up. “I have tomorrow off as well,” she stated, locking eyes with him once more, this time with more confidence. “So, what should we do?”

Rintarou did not peg Y/n as one to enjoy horror films. His intentions after she allowed him to choose a film, a horror film, was to have her cuddle against him so he could wrap his arms protectively around her.

Instead, he sat beside her, pouting as Y/n’s full undivided attention was set on the film.

It was like she forgot he was there. Like she forgot she was supposed to cuddle beside him and let him make her feel safe.

After they finished their meals, Y/n was going to go back to her place to change and shower and return but Rin held on to the end of her shirt like a lost puppy

“Just use my bathroom…” he begged, staring at her with puppy begging eyes.

“What about clothes?”

You don’t need clothes, he wanted to say. “Just use my clothes…” After those words left his lips, he realized he may not survive if he saw her wearing his clothes.

Y/n sighed, she did not like clingy behaviors but she couldn’t bring herself to say no or deny him.

“Fine…”

His invisible puppy ears perked up and his tails wagged excitedly. “Want to shower together?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she laughed.

After her quick shower, she came out wearing a baggy shirt of his with his sweatpants.

Rin looked away and tried to distract his mind with other thoughts to prevent a boner from happening.

His fists had been clutching tightly to his sweatpants for almost the last hour, did she not realize what she was doing to him sitting next to him wearing his clothes?

He cleared his throat for the fourth time and slowly, her chin turned towards him but her eyes couldn’t leave the screen.

The plot of the film had finally reached the truth behind all the paranormal activities.

“Y/n,” Rin whispered.

Her chin was still tilted in his direction except her eyes. “Hmm?”

“Is this film that good?” He’d heard good reviews on this film, but all he could watch was her.

She hummed after a few seconds.

“Can we cuddle?”

At last, her eyes finally left the screen and looked at him. She scooted closer and curled against his side after fully comprehending his question. “Is that why you huffin’ and puffin’ over there?”

He hummed after a few seconds, a smile on his face, finally satisfied. He hooked an arm beneath her knees and threw her legs over his lap. “This is much better.”

Ten minutes into the film, she felt his head rest against the crook of her neck and shoulder. His warm breath was steadily fanning her neck and collarbone.

He had fallen asleep.

As soon as the film was over, Y/n reached for the remote without moving too much to wake him up.

“Is it finally over?”

“Yep,” she answered, “that was one hell of a plot twist that you missed out on.”

Rin’s arms tightened around her and he hummed against her neck, rubbing his nose against her pulse. “Tell me about it, please?”

Turning off the TV, Y/n saw their reflection on the TV screen. With their height difference, his neck was awkwardly angled so his head could rest on her shoulder.

“If you’re tired, go to bed.”

He shook his head, squeezing her waist. “I’m tired but I don’t want to go to bed.” When she lifted her hand and threaded her fingers through his hair, he nearly let out a moan when her nails began massaging his scalp.

His lips pressed against her pulse in a kiss before he nipped the skin there but was immediately stopped by Y/n who shifted away and gripped his chin, “don’t mark me.”

Rin didn’t mask his disappointment and muttered, “fine.”

Her lips curved as she squeezed his cheeks, making his lips pucker, “tell me,” her voice dropped an octave lower, “why are you hard?”

With his lips still puckered he responded, “blame it on your thighs.” He pulls away from her grip and squeezes her thigh which is pressed against his cock. Ever since he pulled her legs over his lap, he couldn’t get the thought of her riding him out of his head, which was why he had to force himself to sleep the rest of the film.

His little nap only worsened as he had enough time to dream about Y/n riding him.

“It’s so… squishy…” he squeezed harder, making her squirm in his lap. “And soft…” He leaned forward until their lips were closed, “and I want to bury my face between them…” He didn’t miss the hitch in her breath. “So what do you say, Y/n?”

“Less talking and more doing, Rin…”

In an instant, she’s flipped onto her back on the couch with Rin kneeling in between her legs. His fingers grip the waistband of his sweatpants on her and frowned, “no panties?” The smirk on her face answered his question. Tugging off his sweatpants, he confirmed his suspicion. “Can’t believe you sat on my lap practically with no panties.” Hooking both her legs over his shoulders, he grins happily at her before his face disappears in between her legs.

Y/n buckled against his lips, thighs crushing against his head. “Rin,” she choked out his name and moaned loudly when two fingers thrust knuckles deep. “Oh God…”

She looked down at the man, his eyes were already on her, staring straight at her as he feasted on her.

With his other free hand, he slipped it inside his shirt she was wearing and groaned when his palm touched her tit. She was wearing no bra beneath his shirt. His cock twitched, nearly cumming from being excited.

“Rin… Rin please…”

He suckled her clit before letting it go with a pop. “Please?”

Widening her legs, and freeing his head, she begged, “you… I want you.”

Rin lets out a shaky laugh and straightens himself. Hearing her say she wanted him nearly undoes him in ways he has never realized. He pushed his waistband down and frees his cock.

He tugs Y/n until she is flat on her back and her ass is hanging off the couch before hiking her legs over his shoulders. Rin pulls the end of his shirt to his lips and bites down on the material before guiding his cock to the wet and glossy pussy.

“Argh,” he lets out a low growl and pushes until he is fully inside her.

He starts with slow and steady thrusts, savoring how her pussy is tightly hugging his cock.

Y/n’s lewd soft moans hypnotize him making him want to slow down or else he may just cum embarrassingly fast.

“Rin – Rin,” she reaches to rub her clit but he slapped her hand away.

His shirt drops as he growled, “I’ll do it…” he spread her legs apart and became thrilled at the sight of his cock moving in and out of her pussy. His thumb found the swollen clit and he began circling it. He felt her clench tighter around his cock. “Are you going to cum?”

Y/n’s hands clutched her chest, she nodded, teeth biting down on her lower lip.

“I can’t hear you?”

“Yes!” She shouted.

He flashed her a satisfied lopsided grin before quickening his pace. Leaning forward he wrapped his other hand behind her head, bringing her lips to his.

They were both near their orgasm and with a few more thrusts they both whimpered in sync.

“Ah,” he groaned against her lips. A sheer thin of sweat is visible across his face. He opened his eyes, staring at her closed one. At some point her hands have gripped the collar of his shirt in a tight fist, keeping close to her.

Where he only wants to be.

Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her deeply and passionately.

Y/n moaned, pulling a way to gasp for a breath. His face flushed making him adorable in her eyes…

“You…” he breathed, “you make me feel things… do things… I’ve never done it before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her nose, “now, can we shower together?”

Rin hated waking up early on his days off.

But it all changed now with this woman still in his arms, in his bed, sleeping soundlessly.

After their shower, they both got ready for bed.

The moment she settled into his bed, Rin initiated his attack.

“What the - !” She exclaimed when he threw half his body on her, locking her with his limbs.

“I can’t trust you not disappearing in the morning,” he murmured, burying his face into her chest. “Don’t leave me like last time… wake me up because I want to see you go if you have to go…”

At some point through the night, they shifted, she was now laying over him.

His hand pressed against the back of her head protectively as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Morning…”

E/n: This man. I would never be able to say no to this man, ever.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @krooes

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna x reader #Happy birthday Suna Rintarou #suna rintarou x y/n #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader

382 notes · View notes

petrapalerno · 18 days

Text

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #11

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, overstimulation, anal play, gagging, violence and murder.

MASTER POST

There’s a jungle that spreads out before you, so different from the dusty red steppes you’ve seen on the rest of this planet. Like a mirage or an oasis, it is teeming with life.

Alien animals swing from the heavy vines that drape over the full golden foliage. The trunks of the trees twist in ways that seem too delicate to support their massive canopies. There must be some magic behind their design for they seem sturdy.

Lost in the enchantment of this new world, you barely register the feeling of Graysi stumbling over his own feet.

It feels like time slows down as you’re forcefully thrust forward, unaffected by whatever is holding the big cat’s movement at bay The inertia speeds up your inevitable face plant into the powdery dirt.

You shut your eyes tight, waiting for impact.

There’s a tugging at your belly, and a twisting motion that has your body spinning. You feel Drohako’s warm chest at your back, his arms are circling your stomach protectively, and although the collision with the ground is abrupt, your alien mate absorbs most of the impact.

It takes a moment before you can breathe properly; the wind having been knocked out of your chest.

Once you regain some of your composure, you realize that Drohako’s arms are limp around you. You twist around, cupping the side of his cheek.

As you pull his face towards yours, blood wells from a forehead cut at the edge of his hairline. The rock underneath his head is small, but jagged.

Drohako is knocked out cold.

You panic, cursing this stupid planet for not having helmets, and put your palm against the cut. Alien blood has to clot and slow with pressure like humans, right?

As the fear of something more sinister than a temporary blackout gnaws at you, you rack your brain, attempting to piece together what transpired.

You scan the treeline, not seeing a single trace of Graysi... but when you hear him snarl directly above you, you lift your eyes higher, realizing that the giant cat is caught in some primitive looking snare.

Despite its best efforts, it can’t lift its heavy body high enough to bite through the rope that’s suspending its four paws above it.

“Did you think you’d get away from the Volkroth human? That they’re wouldn’t be safeguards against this kind of thing?” A deep voice booms from the thicket of golden leaves.

His boot crunches heavily on the underbrush as he steps into the light.

A Volkroth, smaller than Drohako but none the less intimidating, comes closer to you. The right side of his face is marred with a heinous and twisting scar.

The ruined flesh runs through one milky eye and ends at the tail of the scar, with a menacing grin.

“All this trouble for a little thing like you? Seems such a waste,” He keeps advancing toward you, and you shake your unconscious protector.

Please wake up, please Drohako...

“We’re mates, he told me. I swear he’s just trying to keep me safe!” You plead with the alien, unsure of what he plans to do with you.

His steps falter when he hears you say the word, mate.

“Mate? Not possible—you lie!” He spits, finally close enough to grab your wrist.

As he rips you from Drohako’s still unmoving body, he’s full of rage. Somehow, your plea to honor the matehood has had the opposite effect you intended.

“You’re hurting me... Drohako won’t stand for this!” You yelp, attempting to wrench your wrist from his grip.

“He won’t care much about anything anymore,” the brute laughs as he throws you over his shoulder. “In fact, maybe I’ll claim you as my own in the spawning pits—-I’ve never had something so fragile as a human before.”

The volkroth keeps running his mouth on what he’d like to do to you as you dissociate. Your mind slips back to when Drohako first held you like this. How he slung you over his shoulder at your initial meeting. The fear then only heightened your excitement.

Now, as you’re dragged from your lifeless mate, it only fills you with dread.

“We can’t just leave him here!” You yelp, kicking your feet against him.

“Don’t worry, the jirion hounds will take care of him,”

No, that’s not possible.

You run your hands over his chest, fingers searching with unhinged desperation.

“Your ‘mate’s’ body isn’t even yet cold human, and hear you are ready to be rutted again,” The volkroth laughs with his entire chest, so convinced of the fact that you’d easily give up your mate.

His laugh is cut short as you finally grab one of the many blades that the volkroth like to keep strapped to their bodies. With every bit of your strength, you forcefully drive the sharp point of the blade into the vulnerable flesh of his neck.

He gurgles as you twist the dagger, fiery blood running down your hand, the liquid sputtering from between his dark purple lips. When he falls to his knees, you regain your footing, kicking off of him as he face plants into the ground. The bastard clutches for his neck, his body slowly draining of its purple color, mewling around on the ground like the worm he is.

You can’t stop yourself as you spit on his back. His movements slow as his skin turns gray.

Good.

Only when you hear Drohako cough his way back to the realm of the living does your rage subside.

You rush to his side as he struggles to sit up.

“What happened?” He croaks, his voice so hoarse it’s almost a whisper. When he touches your hand, his brows draw together. He pulls his fingers back from yours, they’re slick with blood.

The panic spreads over his face as he wipes his your cheek frantically with his hands. “Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s okay now. Do you think you can stand?” You ask him as he continues to clean your skin.

“The blood,” his eyes are wild, “where did the blood come from?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. The blood is yours and the sad excuse for a volkroth over there.”

He follows your outstretched thumb to the dead alien behind us.

“Did he hurt you?” He’s not any calmer when he unsteadily clambers to his feet.

You rush to his side, wrapping an arm around his hips, as if he would show weakness by leaning against you.

He doesn’t, of course, but instead hurries to the dead volkroth, now laying facedown in a pool of his own quickly coagulating blood and stomps on his skull with brutal force.

The sickening sound of bones cracking echoes through the air as they collide with the blood-soaked mud.

Despite having just slit the dead alien’s throat, you quickly avert your gaze from the macabre sight.

Only when Drohako wraps you up in his arms, tucking your chin against his chest, do you refocus your attention.

“Did he hurt you, mate?” He asks softly.

“No, quite the opposite,” you whisper. “He was too weak to continue his bloodline. It dies with him.”

Pride sparks behind Drohako’s eyes and he cups your blood-soaked face in his hands, he crashes his mouth against your own with a hungry, desperate, kiss.

“You are perfect,” he mutters against your ear as he breaks away.

Drohako groans as you squeeze the coil of his members through his loincloth. They pulse, hardening at your touch. You both almost just died, but there’s something about victory that makes you slick with want. Maybe you’re becoming a true volkroth mate after all.

“I will have you stuffed full of my cocks before long, but for now, we ride.”

He swiftly grabs a curved blade and hurls it towards a nearby tree trunk, the sound of metal meeting wood echoing through the air. Graysi is taken by surprise as the blade severs the fibers of the snare rope, causing him to crash heavily onto the ground with a loud thump.

The cat coughs, shaking his head a few times before stalking over to the ruined body of your attacker. Gripping his torso in his giant maw, he flings him off the path and into the thick underbrush of the forest.

With a satisfied snort, he looks back at us as if we’re the ones lollygagging.

“To the hunting cave.”

#monster fucker #monster romance #monster smut #monster lover #smut #terato #monsterfuqqer #aliens #alien romance #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort #i love aliens #monster fuqqer #alien x human #alien x reader

189 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 9 months

Note

Okay but you can’t just say “I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here” and not follow up with another post because that’s just cruel 😔😞 (aka this is me saying I really like & enjoy reading your interpretations and I need more of them HEHE)

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you!!!! <3333

I love thinking about how Alfred treats Dick more of a son than a grandson because their relationship is different from Alfred's relationship with the other kids. Furthermore, it also explains a bunch of his actions.

First of, I know when everyone saw that Alfred had left Dick his entire inheritance they went "What the fuck." There were a bunch of jokes and questioning about why Alfred would do that and a lot of people have wrote it off as Tom Taylor's writing. But here's the thing. Tom Taylor has done a lot of stupid stuff in terms of characterization but he's done quite a few things right and one of them was adequately explaining Dick and Alfred's relationship.

I don't know how many people can read cursive but it says, "I invested much of this wisely and ethically...In fact, I planned to come to you for advice. Like Bruce, your mind is astonishing. You are a problem-solver and the world is full of problems." (There's actually panel during one of Dick and Slade's fight I have saved so lemme know if you or anyone is interested in Dick's innovativeness and how it makes his a terrifying opponent.)

Let me pause right there. This is Alfred's life savings. It's every piece of penny he's saved and every minute of his life is in that money. On top of what he says about Dick's intellect-and I agree and can prove it-he must've loved and trusted Dick an extraordinary amount to do this.

Alfred goes on to say, "I couldn't think of better hands to leave this fortune in. I believe you will see this, not as a personal gain, but as an opportunity. Because I believe in Dick Grayson."

He continues praising him and- HERE IT IS- "I am so very proud to call you my son."

DICK IS ALFRED'S SON.

This is the cleanest, clearest panel where he explicitly says it.

Hold on-this is the cleanest panel that says it? Wait a minute, let me retract that:

"Master Bruce was my son for a while. And then there was you."

THIS MOMENT HAS BEEN BUILDING UP ON US FOR YEARS. Tom Taylor wasn't doing lip service, he was just writing the inevitable!

I swear there's a panel where Dick refers to Alfred as his dad...

*Record scratch* WHAT DID ALFRED CALL DICK? WHAT DID DICK CALL ALFRED?

THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM!!! THEY ARE GLORIOUS, BRILLIANT, UNDERRATED, AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE FULL EXTENT OF EITHER OF THEIR ABILITIES, LOVE, OR DEPTH OF EMOTIONS.

THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL.

Take the Ric Grayson arc for another example.

Background context: Dick-Ric-was sleeping on the counter and all of a sudden he was startled out of a nightmare thus accidentally ending up bumping into the guy next to him who was drinking. Of course the guy doesn't mind only because it's Dick but anyways, here Alfred makes his entrance. Another thing I love about about this interaction is this is one of the few times Alfred has ever admitted to being in the military. The only other time I can think of him openly saying that is when he's slapping Bruce around.

The worry in the man's eyes for his wayward son...when Bea is snarking with Dick about his tab Alfred decides to pay for him instead.

LOOK AT HIS EYES AS HE SAYS GOOD NIGHT! THE AMOUNT OF EMOTION HE HAS IN THEM IS PURE PERFECTION. THE MAN JUST WANTS HIS SON TO COME BACK.

Not to mention, Alfred adores Dick in a way he didn't even with Bruce.

"For a long time I would dread coming down to this dark hellhole. But the advent of young Grayson has forced an alteration in my attitude. The masters have made much progress in these few short months. I was opposed initially to the recruitment of the lad in Master Bruce's self-appointed 'War on Crime.' But I am prepared to admit my error. Master Richard has mad a difference for the better to our lives."

This is HUGE. Coming from Alfred, this is massive because Alfred LOATHES Bruce's "War on Crime." How much?

So much that he slapped Bruce bloody for it.

The pseudo-father and son beat each other to pieces over it. So after years of Alfred hating Bruce for what he's done, for him to say he only accepts it because of Dick-because of Dick's personality-is enormous praise and accomplishment.

Alfred loves Dick in a way he doesn't love anyone else. And before I get flamed by people for suggesting Alfred loves Dick more than Bruce, I want to say he loves Dick as much as Bruce but in a different manner. He doesn't see Dick as a grandchild who needs to be coddled and softened, he sees Dick as a son he can spoil and cherish.

Him paying off the tab was not only an act of kindness, but it mimicks the way a rich father gives everything to his youngest son. Bruce was the first born he raised but Dick was the baby of their family. This also ties in with how Bruce doesn't see Dick as just him son like he does with the others. To Bruce, they are just as much brothers as anything else.

When Bruce fires Dick from Robin after two-face, Alfred couldn't take it lightly. Dick wasn't just the light of Bruce's life, he was the fucking sun to Alfred's.

I started crying when I read this because the emotions and the pain he's feeling is so visceral. A man who has been MI5 and SAS (Special Airforce Service), who has fought wars, who has fought his son, lost his best friends, is breaking down alone at the top of the stairs over not having Dick as Robin.

You might think that's not all that sad. Worse things have happened. You're overreacting.

Tears are literally streaming down my face as I'm writing this review. Rudolph nose and ugly bloodstained eyes complete with it.

Can you ever imagine loving someone so much?

Crying in silence with a steady voice to never let them know your sorrow?

But sure, sure, he's cried when others were killed like this so I'll go into other special things.

Some of his best moments are with Dick:

The pure adoration in his eyes as he watches his young son go 'flap' 'flap' 'flap' with his older brother's too big cloathes.

He's laughing! Do you know the only times he laughs or grins like that?

That's right-with Bruce! With his other son.

With Dick, he laughs, gets angry, and actually shows interest in things not related to people's health. Dick humanizes Alfred.

Who is the only other person Alfred has gotten mad at? Oh yeah. Bruce.

There's another panel where Alfred just sits by his bedside holding his hand.

It's the little things that matter is a lie. When it comes to Dick, Alfred does things in fighter jet air shows level of affection which he learned just for this during his SAS days.

Their shared interests & mutual understanding

People always think Dick and Alfred have nothing in common between them. Dick is excitable, bouncy, and some other adjective while Alfred is calming, stoic, and butler-y. They actually forget that Dick and Alfred canonically bond of plays. Dick, as I said before, is a massive theater nerd. He loves plays. He really wanted to see that shakespeare play and Alfred said he would take him because he knows people there and then went on to complain about how his brother didn't even drop by to see him. I love their interactions because Dick brings out a different side to Alfred.

Das Rheingold was a German musical drama that was performed as a single opera at the National Theatre Munich. This is the link if you're interested in reading a short synopsis of this complicated play by the Metropolitan Opera. It's like a mix of "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Rings of Power."

Also the fact that Alfred is tying his tie like a father would tie his son's.

I know they make a crack out of it by using Bugs Bunny (Bugs Bunny is a fantastic cartoon! I grew up on it!) but Alfred knows that Dick loves opera and theater and is only asking if this particular play will suit his interests. Okay, great, we know Dick likes theater. You've said that and posted about it before. But how do we know Alfred likes it too and not just because he's British and posh and whatnot?

He has preformed at the London Theater, and this is another way he connects to Dick emotionally. When Dick complains about being Batman, Alfred is the one that tells him:

This is something Alfred understands about Dick that absolutely no one in the family does.

The two of them are show people. They know how to play the role they were given, and they know how to play it well. No one suspects Alfred the Butler of ruthlessly using firearms and no one suspects Dick the Light of the Universe to ruthlessly to manipulate allies.

Dick knows this about Alfred too and never presses for any answers. When Alfred's pulling out a bullet from Dick and performing high level medical techniques he should know nothing about, Dick asks him, "Where did you learn all this, Alfred." To which Alfred responds, "You would be amazed at what you can pick up by watching the Discovery Channel." Dick just gives a pained laugh retorts about his wonderful bedside manners.

They know.

What Alfred sees in Dick is a pure goodness that can't be emulated. He loves his son for how absolutely good he is and is devastated when Dick can't be with him. Of everyone, Dick is the one Alfred is closest to. Other members have their moments with him but no one continually seeks out his presence just for the fact they like him aside from Dick. The rest treat him as an important side character, not a parent. And Alfred responds to that devotion with overwhelming love of his own.

Alfred and Bruce's optimism comes bundled up in the form of Dick. It's stunning how it's always Alfred of all people who admits this. Alfred who isn't supposed to show favoritism or bias is the one that consistently acknowledges how important Dick is to the family and him. This solidifies the fact that Dick is Alfred's favorite.

Other moments that differentiate Dick and Alfred's relationship:

We're pretty familiar with this and many of us have laughed it off when Alfred scolded Dick (also Dick looks hot af here). But can you imagine even anyone else playfully mocking Alfred? THIS. BOY. IS. SPECIAL. Alfred doesn't even blink twice at the address, indicating how typical it is for Dick to act that way with him. You only do that to people you're best friends with.

Casual comfort, the two of them.

Dick and Bruce were brothers and how that ties into Alfred:

Adding to my "Light of Bruce's life" Robin Dick canon, Alfred told Dick that Bruce "would have self-distructed if he hadn't met me and learned responsibility. I made him laugh, and he was like the greatest big brother you could ever imagine...it was our town."

Bruce and Dick are so damn codependent.

Bruce would not have survived without Dick. That's all there is to it.

Robin Dick was the light shining through rain clouds, the glitter in the air, the angel with golden wings, the giggling sweetheart to Alfred and Bruce. He was sunshine, love, and joy and the men both adored, thrived, and cherished him for it.

And if Dick and Bruce were brothers then Alfred was Dick's father and he was Alfred's son.

#dick grayson #nightwing #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #canon #cl anon asks #Thank you so much for the ask! I had a ball writing it <3 #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

657 notes · View notes

hummusxx · 4 months

Text

I Don't care -JB5

parings: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

summary: It's New Year's Eve in Madrid. Everyone is out having parties and celebrating the new year while u is stuck home sick with the flu. Your boyfriend tries to cheer you up.

Of course. The only handful of days Jude and I can go out together is spent inside on the couch, watching some stupid show. I just had to go and get the flu. My aunt had forgotten to inform everyone that her demon of a child had every sickness known to mankind at Christmas dinner

" Babe get the frown off your face- Everything is alright " Jude tried to reassure me as he was walking towards the couch with a steaming hot bowl of soup.

I look at him in disbelief.

"No Jude. We were supposed to have fun tonight and go out. Not say home and watch this stupid show in clothes that smell like we haven't showered in years." With a frown on my face, I bury my head into the couch cushion.

I start to hear loud bangs and realize that fireworks are going off. I look outside the window with a somber look.

"Um excuse you but The Sopranos is one of the best shows in the world" Jude says offensively as he sets down the bowl.

"-and i wouldn't want it any other way. Just Me and My girl, alone, in pjs, watching a dumb show as u say." he sits next to me, laying his arm around my shoulder and pulling the blanket over him.

"Stop you're going to get sick Jude," I say, as I try and push him to the other side of the couch.

Jude doesn't move any inch. After my pity attempt to move him, he reaches and grabs the bowl on the table and starts to feed me like a mother would her babe.

"Judie I'm not a baby" I whine.

Well, you're my baby" he says, laughing as he watches me frown.

He suddenly puts down the bowl and makes his way into the bedroom.

"Jude where are u going."

"Just a sec" he responds. His voice was muffled by the loud fireworks outside.

He comes back in with a hat and party blower that says,'Happy New Year.'

"Jude what- How did u get this stuff." I say as u sit up from the couch.

Jude moves over to me and puts the hat on my head and the blower in my hand. He walks over to the kitchen and open the fridge.

He grabs 12 grapes for both of us and sits down on the couch.

"I grabbed all this while I was out getting your soup" I stare at him in disbelief. My eyes start to water.

" I know how bad u wanted to go out tonight, so I brought the out to you," he says while turning on the broadcast of the clock in Puerta del sol.

I look at the time, it's 11:57. It's almost the new year.

" Jude"

"mhm" he turns to look at me.

"I love you so much and I'm so grateful for everything that has happened to us this year."

He looks at me and grabs my hands

"Baby you have helped me so much this year and i am forever grateful for u" He Kisses my forehead right at the clock Strucks 12.

The chimes start and we eat the grapes.

We both finish them all in the chimes.

"Happy New year baby' he says as he grabs my head..

"Jude you're going to get sick" i say leaning in

"I don't care."

Hummusxx Corner

heyyy everyonee i hope this was good. I haven't wrote in ages it feels like so im happy to have a new piece out. In Spain, they have a tradition of eating 12 grapes with the 12 chimes of the clock in puerta del sol and if u finish all 12 you will have a good new year full of luck. So since Jude has moved to spain decided to include it in because it just felt right. If u liked it plssss repost or comment. Love yall and byeee

I wanted this to be posted on new years eve BUT I literally can’t wait so here it is early 😉

#hummusxx' corner #jude bellingham #jb5 #new year #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude x reader #football blurb #football #Madrid #sickfic #football fluff #football fanfic

305 notes · View notes

caelisblade · 5 months

Text

¡! drunk on you | marius von hagen

cw: this one’s very messy, established relationship (engaged), fem!reader, use of aphrodisiac chocolate (and it works. real good), unprotected sex, creampies, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, squirting, slight spanking, restraint (you cuff him to the bed), think this is all

a/n: don‘t know what monster took over me here tbh but i hope u enjoy lmao

also posted on my ao3

well, fuck.

marius was unable to concentrate. the words that were being thrown during the meeting were going in one ear and leaving the other one and he simply was too frustrated to even continue on.

“apologies, ladies and gentlemen, there is a little emergency i have to take care of. would you mind coming in tomorrow around this time again? i would like to re-start this meeting then”, marius announced, hands shaking.

once the board agreed on a time, they all started to leave and marius took out his phone again to send you a message.

“i’m coming home. you better be there.”

–

oh.

that was the only thing you could think and say once you read his last message of him coming home. you giggled, happy that the chocolate actually worked and grabbed one piece of it, too. if he already had some, might as well eat one too, right?

you were anxiously waiting for him to come home as you slowly felt your body tingle, every single sense slowly feeling like it’s heightened before he slammed the front door open and shut, finally entering his bedroom where he had you pinned underneath him within the second.

“all that’s been in my fucking mind throughout the entire meeting was that i wanted to fuck you dumb until you either pass out or i physically can’t cum anymore. i ended my meeting early because of this and now i have to re-do that entire shit again tomorrow.”

his hands were around your wrists, pinning them on both sides next to your head as he had your legs locked in between his knees, not allowing you to move an inch. his eyes were looking straight at yours, that piercing gaze had you squirming in his tight grasp.

“please, do. please fuck me”, you breathed out, just before all control left his body and his lips were against yours, his hands letting go of your wrists and your arms were wrapped around his neck; the kiss so full of passion and need and desperation – all that either of you could think of was fucking each other into a brainless mess.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen your financé so needy or horny – not that you were complaining, though. it was endearing; he was so impatient that he simply ripped your clothes apart to get them off your skin, not that you were any different when it was about his suit that made him look so fucking handsome.

when you whined to complain about the wasted clothes, he shushed you and mumbled softly into your ear; “i’ll buy you new ones. anything you want. no matter the fucking price.” he started nibbling your earlobe, making you giggle. “you deserve the world, princess.”

“stop talking so much and fuck me, idiot”, you mumbled, “i need you.”

before he could reply, you pulled him back into a kiss as you were pulling off pants as quickly as possible. “shut up”, you mumbled again and again.

“fucking minx. first you get me fucking going with that chocolate and now you want me to shut up, huh?”, he groaned, pinning your hands against the pillows again. he slowly wandered down, kissing his way down your jaw, neck, breasts and stomach, just before he looked up at you with a smirk and dove into your pussy, tongue licking up your entrance before he started playing with your clit. he slowly eased two of his fingers inside as well, your hands entangling with his hair as you started to move your hips up and down for some more friction.

“no, no, baby, don’t you fucking dare. i eat you the way i like to and you stay still like my pretty little slut, hm? just take it, baby”, he stopped for a moment to tease and edge you for a moment, giggling innocently as you stared daggers at him.

“come on, please”, you whined, desperation clear and evident in your tone. “please. don’t tease me.”

“but it’s so much fun”, he replied, before his lips were back on your clit, sucking as he fingered you simultaneously having you trash around again, so close to your release. “mhm, tasting so good, baby, how about you come for me, hm? let me taste your delicious cum.”

the groan he let out as he felt you lose the last shred of self-control before your body was trembling in aftershocks from your orgasm was probably the best sound you had ever heard. just as you were hoping he’d come up and finally fuck you properly, his lips were reattached to your clit and he was back at making you lose your mind on his tongue alone, overstimulating your poor clit over and over until all you could do was lay there breathlessly and tears brimming in your eyes from how good it felt.

“babe, shit, p-please, just fuck me!”, you cried out, back arching as yet another orgasm coursed through your body. it was so mind-numbing, the constant stimulation, that you almost forgot that he, too, was totally far-gone on that aphrodisiac chocolate. “need your cock in me. don’t know if blue balls are really a thing but i don’t want to experience it either way. please.”

marius only laughed, shaking his head. “whatever my beautiful baby wants.”

he was back on top of you and kissed you, making you taste your own cum on his lips, the way he had so messily eaten you out over and over had his chin glistening in your slick. you felt his tip rub against your clit, that poor bundle of nerves being stimulated without a break and having you twitch once more.

just before you started complaining again, he pressed his tip against your entrance and finally thrusted fully into you, your wetness making it easy for him to slide in deep until he hit the sweet spot that had you arching your back into him again.

“fuck, feels so good”, you cried out as he started fucking you like an animal; the bedpost slamming against the wall with how rough he was, the need and desperation coming from the aphrodisiac he consumed finally overpowering all bits of self-control he had left.

“your pussy’s so fucking tight, can’t take it anymore”, he groaned, “need to cum, fuck, can i cum inside?”

that’s something you loved about him so much – no matter how he sometimes acted like a horny teenager when he fucked your brain’s out, he’d always make sure to ask if it was okay for him to bury his seed deep inside. not that you had ever denied him of that simple pleasure, he still preferred to ask. that simple question had you fall in love with him again and again. “yes. fuck, yes, please, fill me up”, you whined.

with another loud groan his hips stilled, as he came deep inside of you, before he was able to catch his breath, he slipped out, turning you around on your hands and knees and bury himself back inside, fucking his cum back inside. marius spanked your ass before he kneaded the skin roughly, you were so sure your whole body was going to be sore.

“such a pretty ass for me, hm?”, he was so needy and desperate to fuck you to a crying and overstimulated mess, “come on, baby, make me cum, hm?”

his hands were all over your body before he grabbed your hair and pulled; he planted a soft kiss on your cheek as he looked at your beautiful, messy face, a total contradiction of how he was degrading you again; “fucking slut, just wanted me to fuck you till you pass out, huh? tempted my sweet tooth with that chocolate and just had to wait to get me so hard i couldn’t concentrate on my meeting anymore. ain’t that fucking right, baby?”

your eyes rolled back as you sobbed, he kept on slapping your ass as he fucked you. as you felt a particularly hard slap, you whined, looking back at him. “answer. me.” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, before he resumed his rough and hard pace.

“yes, fuck, yes”, you cried out, moving your hips back against his, to meet his thrusts. “just wanted you to come home and fuck my brain’s out!”

“good girl”, he mumbled, praising you for not lying to him in attempt to get out of this. with his rough pace and your pussy gripping his cock like a vice – it was no surprise that he came buried deep inside again, filling your womb with his cum as he pulled out, watching the creamy seed slowly drip out before he turned you around onto your back again and softly kissed your sensitive clit, your folds clenching around nothing and causing his cum to drip out even more.

“so fucking good, baby”, he groaned, “gonna make you cum over and over again, baby, need you to be a total mess for me, huh? gonna fill that pussy full of my cum until you can’t take any inside anymore.”

“yes, god, fuck, please”, you moaned, the stimulation he put your body through had you coming once again, gushing all over his chin and chest, his cum leaking out at the same time and making a total mess of the bedsheets but neither of you could really care.

“fuck, that was hot”, marius groaned, slapping your cunt with his hand, not too hard, but enough for you to squirt again and more. “so, so fucking good, huh, feeling good, baby?”

you felt so dizzy from all that pleasure he put your poor body through, despite him not allowing you to pleasure him the ways you wished to, vision blurry as you finally were allowed to catch your breath.

it kind of pissed you off that he was the one who got more affected by the chocolate but you were the one being constantly pleasured. once he had made himself comfortable next to you to give you a break, you grabbed the handcuffs that were attached to the bed and cuffed his hands together, restricting him of any movement.

“y/n”, he said, warning you. “don’t you fucking dare. uncuff me right fucking now.”

you giggled and shrugged, shaking your head. “no.”

“i will make you regret this, you know that, right?”

“mhm, i do”, you giggle, slowly wrapping your hand around his cock and slowly jerking him off, having him throw his head into his neck as he moaned softly, growing weak in those soft and simple ministrations. “but you deserve to be pampered for once, too, don’t you, baby? just relax and take it.”

your hand started moving faster, his hips were twitching like a needy teenager who just can’t stop cumming as you felt his cum dribble down your hand and you quickly licked it off.

“fuck”, he groaned, slowly coming back to his senses as you slowly aligned your entrance with his cock, sinking down with a whine and immediately picking up the pace as you ride him.

“just like that, what a good girl you are for me, baby”, he praised you, despite being in handcuffs, he was still in full control over everything. you didn’t complain tho, but your eyes widened when you heard the cheap metal breaking and his hands on your body.

“didn’t buy the good ones, huh? well, i told you i’d make you regret this, didn’t i, slut?”

within the second, he had you underneath him once more, fucking his cock deep inside of you again. “fucking whore, needed me to fuck you stupid, huh?”

“yes, please, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop”, you cried for the last time before he filled you up once more, staying inside for a brief moment before he slipped out and laid down next to you.

“that chocolate was good, huh?”, he laughed as he caught his breath, the effect of the aphrodisiac slowly fading. “wouldn’t complain to try it again sometime. how about… our wedding night, huh?”

“i like the sound of that”, you replied, yawning as you cuddled against him. “but we gotta clean this up, like, right now. you know that, right?”

“unfortunately”, he grumbled before he got up on his shaky legs, lifted you with ease and carried you towards the bathroom. “let’s get washed down first, though. we got all the time we need to clean up.”

you ended up fucking again in the shower.

visuals that inspired me: links are twt prn

marius fucking his cum back inside

marius being obsessed with eating u out

marius railing you so good, you keep on begging him not to stop

marius making you drip with his cum <3

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟmarius #tears of themis #tot #tears of themis smut #tot smut #marius von hagen #marius smut #marius von hagen smut

384 notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 8 months

Text

Your Games Suck: Animal Crossing Edition (Teaser)

pairing; jeon wonwoo x kim mingyu x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; poly, dom!wonwoo, sub!mingyu, big dick!mingyu, unprotected sex, mild pet play, pet names, mlm, nipple play, fingering, spit play, hand on throat, thigh riding, grinding, scratching, marking, aftercare mentioned (if I have forgotten something let me know)

w/c; 5.9k and some change (507 this teaser)

requested; no

a/n; leave it to me to make minwon poly. I am not sorry. thank you to @wonwussy @onlyseokmins and @playmetheclassics for beta reading for me! and thank you to everyone for being patient and waiting just a little longer for this to be posted since I have been under the weather.

this fic will be released sunday 9/3 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

“Mm, you talked Mingyu into playing Animal Crossing with you?”

Smiling at Wonwoo’s voice you look up only to feel Mingyu start to move causing your smile to fade instantly.

“Where are you going, Mingyu? I didn’t tell you that you had to move? You can keep holding her. Don’t make my Princess sad. I literally told you to come over here and keep her company, didn’t I?”

Confusion evident on his face, Mingyu settles back against the pillows and the headboard allowing you to get comfortable between his legs once again. With a smile back on your face, you lean over your knees to kiss Wonwoo before resting your head back on Mingyu’s shoulder causing the man’s head to spin with what was happening.

“I just–I figured with you home, you’d want her to yourself. I didn’t want to overstep. You know, overstay my welcome. Not that I’m not enjoying this. Cause I am…a lot.”

Smiling to himself, Wonwoo looks down at his hands rubbing his thumb along his palm as you go back to playing your game and Mingyu watches him cautiously.

“I’d tell you if I wanted you to go. You’re fine, right where you are. Y/N loves that silly game. I never have time to play it with her. I’m glad you like it too, though I didn’t think you’d be into cutesy animal things, Mingyu.”

Furrowing his brows, Mingyu scoffs at Wonwoo’s teasing as he looks back at the Switch in his hands. You smile glancing over your shoulder at Mingyu, and he is a goner knowing he can’t disappoint you.

“Well, I–it’s kinda fun. It’s relaxing. Especially just laying here with Y/N like this. There’s not much to it. You can just rest and run around together.”

Biting your lip you lift a brow and look at Wonwoo as if you say “told you so” causing the man to roll his eyes at your dramatics.

“Mingyu is fun to play games like this with. He follows me around like a cute puppy. I like it. I can teach him how to play something for once.”

Sighing into a resolved laugh, Mingyu starts to try to defend himself when you describe him as a cute puppy but one glance back from you stops him before he starts. Instead, the man just leans his head back against the headboard and sighs once again.

Sitting near your and Mingyu’s legs, Wonwoo laughs at the exchange before lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck when he meets his best friend’s eyes. He could tell that Mingyu was whipped for you, and he could understand the feeling.

“It’s alright, Gyu. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger. It’s like she said…it’s cute.”

Rolling his eyes, Mingyu lays down his Switch at Wonwoo’s teasing feeling heat creeping up his neck and across his face.

“Yeah yeah. I can take it from her, but…”

“But what? You don’t like it when I tease you? I don’t think that’s true, is it…pup?”

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

#wonwoo smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #minwon smut #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

502 notes · View notes

xzaddyzanakinx · 2 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Three: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, murder, serious illness, needles [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you SO much that he’s disgusting about it. He’s extra delusional. Anakin doesn’t love drama HE IS the drama. He's still a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: June 27th

I came to the diner tonight, I love to see you wait tables. You’re so kind and sweet, even to the assholes and shitheads that don’t deserve to breathe your air. Your beautiful smile, those pretty eyes and how you bat those long lashes, that bell-like giggle you pull for those nasty old men’s jokes.

I know it’s not real, but it’s fun to watch you pretend baby. And just as fun to listen to your annoyed retelling of your night when you get home. Gods I could just listen to you talk for hours. Watching your face change as you speak, the acute movements of your eyebrows and lips that tell me how you really feel.

You’re just like me, more than you know.

I ordered some coffee, sat at the bar one of those red spin-y stools, and listened to your sweet lilt tell lie after lie to your customers.

You’re a busy, busy girl aren’t you princess?

Sorry for the messy writing, it was difficult not to laugh as I wrote these little white lies of yours.

1. Saving up money for a car: true, but doesn’t get you good tips

2. This is your second job and life on your own is just real hard: I’m amazed that this one works as well as it does, really pulling on those old lady heartstrings huh?

3. ‘Sorry guys, I’m just- having a hard day. You understand right?’ *sniffle* the only thing those guys understand is the masculine urge to stop a girl from crying and if shoving a few extra bills under their dirty plate makes your day ‘better’, they’re gonna do it.

I don’t know how you continue to use that one on those poor fools, it’s always the same few guys too. They really think you’re something special huh?

You are of course, very special. But they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know that you’re full of shit. I know for a fact you had a really good day. I was there.

You cheeky little minx.

4. Your mom is out of work and you’re helping her out: your mom is out of work, but you’re definitely not helping her out. She wouldn’t take your money if you offered it. (You wouldn’t offer it over your dead body.)

Can’t blame you for this little lie though, your mom really is a piece of shit. Exploit that bitch all you want, she deserves it. I’ve seen those nasty posts she made about your friend. All that because he’s gay?

Oh no! It’s contagious! It’s the vaccines! Gluten!

Come on lady, it’s 2023.

5. you’re getting married! I fucking wish. But, not yet princess, you won’t need to worry about anything when it’s time for that. Thats what I’m here for, I’ll make sure you get everything you want.

6. ‘It’s on the house honey.’ I was so jealous hearing this one for the first time. You’re just absolutely rotten aren’t you? Refills are free.

You’re perfect for me and you don’t even know it.

Diary Entry: June 28th

Angelic. Cherubic. God-kin.

A biblical beauty if I’ve ever seen one.

The way your hair creates a halo around your face. Tendrils gracing the soft contours of your cheeks, the twitch of your nose when you shift just alittle too much and a strand tickles it. The subtle pull or purse of your lips that tells me you’re deep in the land of dreaming.

Sleep is one of the most basic human needs. It’s not meant to be as glorified as you make it, but somehow you do.

It’s intimate. They way your breathing slows and your body melts into the soft hands of sleep. It’s an event that I’ve been graciously given the opportunity to witness.

It was so, so, so worth waiting for.

SleepyTime Tea, a cute name and of course perfect for my purposes. You drank a cup almost every night. It’d been on my mind for a while and I figured… it couldn’t hurt to open it up and help you get an even better sleep.

Now that I’ve had the privilege of seeing an angel at rest… well I don’t think I could ever witness anything more breathtaking.

Except for maybe your sweet little pussy.

I checked and double checked the measurements on those sleeping pills I promise. I would never ever hurt you sweetheart. I was so anxious, trying to make sure I got the mixture perfect.

It worked like a dream. Didn’t it?

Damn right it did. Worked well enough that I was able to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead before I left.

I also did you a little favor or two as well while I was there. It wasn’t a completely selfish visit.

I replaced an old beat up scrunchie, it was past time for you to retire it in my opinion. Now it’s serving a better purpose: squeezing the base of my cock while I fuck my fist to the sounds of your desperate moans, both of us needy for a never quite satisfying finish. If only I had the courage to open that door.

You need a man sweetheart. You need me. Those toys of yours just don’t hit the spot for you do they? Hurts my heart that it takes you so long… and I know it’s not on purpose. I can tell the difference.

Nothin’ can mimic that sinful feel of flesh on flesh.

I took out your bathroom trash, I know you hate doing that. And maybe I accidentally knocked your toothbrush off the sink.

Sue me.

But I promptly rectified the issue, I just so happened to notice you were out of brush-head refills a few days ago and came prepared. You’re welcome baby.

I also purchased the same brand of brush that you have.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Date:

June 29th

You woke up, rolling out of bed at 9:30. An absolutely ridiculous time to be awake on what was meant to be a lazy stay at home day. But alas, you are a good friend, and good friends go through with their plans.

Even if you made those plans a month ago and completely forgot them.

Your cat laced it’s way through your legs while you stood on unsteady feet. You’ve really gotta stop with the caffeine, it’s definitely not normal for someone as young as you to wake up with the shakes. But you’re a creature of habit and an absurd amount of sugar and caffeine were included in those habits.

Staying true to those habits you made your way to the bathroom across the hall, absentmindedly grasping at air for a few seconds before realizing your toothbrush wasn’t where you always left it. With a frustrated groan you looked around and saw that someone… or rather something had knocked it into the floor.

“Boogie!” You turned around and made your way to the living room, interrupting her morning routine by scooping her up and forcing her to face the music.

“How dare you.” You whispered, trying to pull out a stern voice. “I don’t have any new tooth brush heads. What am I supposed to do you little shit?”

You bent down, picked it up and popped the replaceable head off, tossing it into the… empty trash can? When did you take out the trash?

Whatever. Focus. “You better hope I have a spare regular one.” You shot a nasty glare at your cat who sat unbothered on the bathroom counter.

You searched through the cabinet below the sink and through all the drawers and found none. Not even that travel one from last year’s vacation. Finally you opened up the medicine cabinet-mirror combo and was pleasantly surprised but also annoyed, to see that you did actually have a replacement.

“Well shit.” You scoffed, “I should’ve just checked there first.”

Next on the list was a giant tumbler of coffee and a hit of your vape for breakfast. Delicious.

You searched in the catch-all drawer in your kitchen for a hair band, not finding any of the small black ones you settled for a stray scrunchie that lived in this drawer specifically for circumstances like this.

Grabbing the light blue silk scrunchie you went to slide it on your wrist and gather your hair but stopped mid movement. No sharpie mark. You could’ve sworn last time you wore this it had a sharpie mark on it from being trapped in the drawer with a cap-less marker. Weird, but not weird enough to care about.

With your caffeine withdrawal taken care of and your morning duties finished, you slipped on some tennis shoes, grabbed your small backpack and walked to the gym two blocks away. Your wonderful and lovely, much more active friend had invited you to a yoga class to meet ‘someone who isn’t a lazy bastard’.

Which… doesn’t really make any sense considering your last boyfriend liked to lift weights but couldn’t bear to lift a finger to help you.

But you love Luke, and Luke loves to play matchmaker. So you’d suffer through this with a smile. It couldn’t hurt and it might be fun, if all else fails at least you got to hang out with your friend and giggle at him drooling over the ‘guy with this sexy scowl, big broad shoulders, oh my god he’s so soft but like in a buff way it’s insane.’.

“Lukey!” You jogged up to him where he was waiting for you outside the gym.

“You’re late.” He stated sternly despite the little smile curving his lip.

“No I’m not. It’s 10:20.” You scoffed.

“Yes and class starts at 10:30.” He retorted.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but 20 comes before 30.” You said feigning concern as you touched his forearm while walking inside.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, “I mean you’re late to meet this guy I was telling you about!”

He shoved you gently past the various equipment and to a smaller room with mirrors along one wall. He very conspicuously pointed toward a younger guy with… a mullet?

“You’re joking.” You gasped. “Luke I swear to god you’ve gotta be kidding.” You squeaked smacking his arm.

“What?!” He squealed, pulling his arms up to his chest and curling in on himself. “Stop I didn’t invite you to kickboxing! Ow!”

“A dude with a mullet?” You glared at him.

“Wait till he turns around, the mullet will be forgiven I swear.” He said, holding up his hands in an offering of peace.

That peace treaty was immediately ripped to shreds when Luke loudly dropped his metal water bottle on the hard floors, a smile that could beat the devil’s smirk on his face.

The guy whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in concern, soft greenish tinted blue eyes taking a moment to glance over you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, a soft accent lacing his voice as he walked over to you.

Is it strange to say that a man with a mullet is… graceful? Yes, it is.

“Oh yeah, everything is fine.” You answered quickly, not missing the snicker that Luke made when he kicked the water bottle over to you.

You bent down and picked it up, holding it with a grip that would surely snap your officially ex-best friends neck in half.

“Here let me take this for you.” The blonde haired stranger said, reaching out for your backpack and for some reason you let him take it.

He just… exuded a calming energy. No wonder he likes yoga, he’s probably the most zen person you’ve ever met. Everything about him was soft and comforting. His voice, his beard, even his knuckles as they ghosted across your arm when he grabbed your bag.

“Th-thanks?“ You said in a statement that sounded more like a confused inquiry.

You followed him and Luke inside, the blood draining from your formerly flushed cheeks when he unrolled your yoga mat in the front row. What kind of cosmic curse has Luke unleashed? You shot him a look to burn through brick but he just seemed giddy as if you weren’t planning on disposing him in the sewer after this.

“I’m Ben, your instructor. Luke told me you’d be coming today, he mentioned you’ve never taken a class like this before?” He looked over at you, an understanding smile on his face.

THE INSTRUCTOR?

“R-right yeah. No, I’ve never taken a yoga class before.” You shook your head and introduced yourself in return, holding out your hand for a hand shake and being utterly shocked at Ben’s reaction.

“I’m a hugger, hope that’s alright darling.” He laughed softly, enveloping you in a warm embrace that could smelt iron. It certainly made you malleable, maybe even alittle bit melty.

The kicker though? A kiss to the side of your mouth.

You blinked at the audacity, did he just-? But as he pulled back you realized it wasn’t a creepy thing… it was a friendly thing. He just greets everyone that way because he’s a genuinely kind person. You knew that to be true because he turned and did the same to Luke, ending his with a firm pat to his shoulder.

A little green monster clawed it’s way through your stomach at the sight, but you drowned it quickly with the use of your knowledge as a sane person. You don’t know this guy. Luke brought you here because of this guy, he’s not after him, he’s after Beefy McBeef in the corner. You don’t know him, you’re purely getting jealous going off the fact that he is pretty and the realization that you’re not special.

You spent the rest of your time thinking peaceful thoughts to chase away the images of Luke’s tiny pea brain being squished betwixt your fingers for this horrible idea of his, while failing many attempts to mimic the variety of poses and stances Ben showed the class.

Even Beefy McBeef was doing better than you, and you could definitely see why Luke had his sights set on him. Masculine, but not in an intimidating way. He’s right, he’s soft but buff.

After class ended Luke insisted on dragging you over to Ben to say goodbye.

“Thanks, I enjoyed the class.” You said awkwardly, forcing a polite smile.

“Oh I’m so glad, I was hoping you would.” Ben said, a bright smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’d love for you to come back next week.” He said sincerely, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze that made your mouth dry.

“I’m not super sure that yoga is my thing, but I’ll definitely think about it.” You smiled, surely he’s just being nice. Like he was earlier.

“Well if yoga isn’t your thing, I’m sure we can find something that is, hmm?” He chuckled, ripping a scrap of paper from his class schedule and scribbling his number down.

“O-oh.” You blushed. That was the smoothest pickup line you’d ever heard… you couldn’t even be mad about it. “Thank you, I’ll… text you later?” You said unsure about your own words.

“No rush darling,” he gave you a warm smile that matched the softness of his hand that took yours and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

When he pulled back he’d somehow snuck the slip of paper into the palm of your hand, he left you there buffering. You turned slowly to look at Luke who was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Your turn.” You said sternly, nodding toward Mr. McBeef.

“No.” Luke said with an air of finality, scooping up his bag and spinning on his heel toward a few of his class friends.

Luke so kindly helped you make a fool of yourself. It’s only fair that you return the favor. You marched over to Beefy with a sweet smile.

“Hey!” You said, introducing yourself to him.

“Hey little lady.” He chuckled, taking your hand for a handshake, his palm dwarfing yours. “Names Han.”

“Han. Suits you.” You added with a small smile.

“So, Han. You know Luke?” You said, nodding in his direction.

“Y-yeah I do,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervousness you didn’t expect. “Why?”

“Luke is- he’s alittle shy.” You said in a hushed tone. “He’s been talking about you an awful lot.”

“Me?” Han questioned, a downturned grin creeping up his lips as his eyes darted between you and your friend who’d migrated across the gym.

“Yeah, you.” You laughed, “he’s got a massive crush.” You gave him an accomplished grin.

“H-he does?” He gulped, starting to get red in the cheeks. “He’s hardly ever spoken to me.”

“Like I said, he’s shy.” You reminded him gently. “You should go talk to him.”

“Yeah… I will.” He smiled, standing up and placing a kind hand on your shoulder.

“Go get ‘em Beefy McBeef.” You said in a tone so normal that he almost didn’t notice.

“What did you call me?” He laughed.

“Beefy McBeef.” You shrugged, unable to hide your devious smile. “that’s what Luke calls you.”

“No he doesn’t.” Han laughed, big and hearty, Luke turning his head with a jealous scowl until he realized he was laughing with you and it morphed into a mask of pure panic.

“Oh yes he does.” You said firmly. “Can you do me a favor?” You asked.

“Sure babe.” He laughed, still recovering.

“Introduce yourself to him as Beefy McBeef.” You said with pleading eyes.

“Seriously?” He laughed, almost a giggle if you could consider a guy like him a giggler. “What’d he do to you?”

“Just trust me when I say he deserves it.” You said sincerely.

“Can do.” He shook his head with a snort and made his way over to Luke.

“Hey, Luke.” He said, a slight tease in his tone. “Just wanted to introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand and watched with amusement as Luke struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Good. You thought. He deserves alittle embarrassment after the way he forced you into conversation with Ben.

“Beefy McBeef.” Han said, struggling to contain his laughter as he shook Luke’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You watched from behind a nearby pillar as Luke turned fire truck red. He frantically searched for you until he spotted you with a massive grin and waggling fingers.

“I’ll kill you.” He threatened but there was no real malice in his voice.

“Sure you will Lukey.” You said with a laugh, running over to the wall where you’d propped up your bag and tossed it over your shoulder. Blowing Luke a kiss as you walked out of the gym.

After returning home you showered and sat down on the couch, resigning yourself to rotting on the couch. You’d done your good deed for the day, two actually:

1. attending a social event

2. helping Lukey talk to Han

You’d also done your one terrible deed for next few months. It’s never intentional that you do something bad, except this time it was. But was it really all that terrible if it got Luke what he wanted? Nope.

Add that to the good deeds list then.

3. embarrassing Lukey while helping him talk to Han

All’s fair in love and war.

Speaking of potential love and possible war, you rummaged through your bag to fish out that phone number, you even dumped out all the contents and searched your clothes as well.

It was no where to be found and you were actually kind of bummed about it. You can’t go ask for his number after all that, that’s just… embarrassing.

Shit.

Diary Entry: June 29th

Sweetheart.

If I knew you didn’t love Lukey, I’d have been scraping him off the sidewalk right about now. That little twerp was trying to set you up with someone else.

I know it’s not his fault. He’s being a good friend, he just wants you to be happy. He doesn’t know about me and that’s okay, it’s all okay.

But god, could he have picked a worse guy? I mean… really?

*Ooh look at me and my beautiful luscious locks.* GAG.

I could tell he was making you uncomfortable so I got rid of that little paper as quickly as possible. I would’ve hated for you to have the reminder of that fucking creep. The way he kissed your hand? What the hell was that?

So, I slipped it out of your bag and stayed around to listen to your sinister revenge plot.

I’ll say it again baby, you’re more like me than you know.

Ps. Beefy McBeef? Please.

Diary Entry: July 1st

I’m not an unreasonable guy baby. Really I’m not, but you’re on your phone so much. It just really bugs me you know? We don’t spend quality time together like we should.

I want you to dance around and sing. I want you to lay in the living room floor and color. I to watch you suck ass at MarioKart and laugh when you get frustrated and scrunch your nose.

I want to watch you read so I can read aloud to you, with my e-book copy. I want to watch The Witcher with you, I love that show. Shits cool as fuck, sword fights are so awesome I’ll ignore the fact that you only watch it for Geralt.

He’s not real and I am. So fuck it, can’t hurt to fantasize. I’d be one hell of a hypocrite if I said you couldn’t.

Anyway, sorry I’m rambling.

Are you okay? You’re just… quieter. Is it something I’ve done?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I think I’ve figured it out sweet girl, I did some online research and replayed some footage. You’ve not been taking your birth control like you should. Come on baby you gotta remember to take it on time alright? Skipping it and taking it out of routine will mess you all up and we can’t have that.

I’ll try my best to remind you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You know me, I’m always worried.

Just… I’m gonna need to borrow your phone so that I can install some software for you. I’m just alittle concern that you’re hiding something from me princess. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Diary Entry: July 2nd

That SleepyTime tea is a lifesaver.

God I just feel so relieved knowing that I can monitor you. I swear it’s not in a weird way, I just needed to make sure you were in a good headspace you know?

Your search history is so funny. I makes me happy to know you’re just as goofy as me. It also makes me happy that you’ve not searched anything concerning.

Your socials are clean. Your camera roll is full of cute pictures of you and your friends, as well as a few of your ex that I swiftly trashed for you. Maybe just a few naughty ones in the hidden album, don’t worry I didn’t stare. I’ll have plenty of time to do that in person.

Your texts are mostly dry. That’s a good thing though, that means you have more time for me. Even better? No dating apps. Good girl. Those are terribly dangerous, they should require a background check for users, you never know what kind of weirdo is on the other side of that screen.

I’m proud of you babydoll. You’re such a good girl, my good girl.

I’ll help you stay a good girl too. Your phone is mirrored to my laptop, so I’ll be able to see everything you see. No room for mix-ups or miscommunications between us this way.

Communication in relationships is so important.

Which is my reasoning behind the new phone software. You understand don’t you doll? I mean, I can only tell so much from your diary. You like to write and that’s amazing, it’s a great outlet and you should keep up with it. You’re the reason I started my own journal. You were so right when you said ‘it sorts my thoughts and soothes my heart’.

I never thought I’d be a journal guy. Look at me. Self care king.

Diary Entry: July 3rd

I have the most amazing news princess, after careful research and a very thorough deep dive into all of your neighbors, I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our distance issue.

Did you know that the old man across the hall from you is a widow? Poor guy, 10 years without his wife. They were married for 53 years. 53.

That’s the goal baby. That’s the kind of love I have for you.

If Alan Jared Nelson is anything like me, he’s miserable without Gloria Anne. Just like I’d be miserable without you.

He’s sick you know? He’s on a wait list for a liver, has been for 2 years. Isn’t that just the worst kind of hope? It’s cruel really.

Why give the man and his remaining family the hope of a ‘few’ more years, knowing damn well the guy is old enough that he might turn to dust they minute they cut into him. Why put him on the list at all? He’s 92. No one is giving him a liver.

The liver disease he’s diagnosed with is a doozy too, it’s aggressive, painful, and necrotic. He’s in constant pain. He’s got a port for morphine.

Do you know what kind of horrible pain a person has to be in to get a morphine port? Excruciating.

Alan has lived a long and beautiful life. Between the heartache of loosing his love and the debilitating disease he suffers from… it would be a mercy to lay him to rest don’t you think?

He’s a patriot through and through, he was in the army reserves. Now, that’s not my cup of tea but good for you Mr. Nelson.

America’s birthday is a good day for a guy like him to die isn’t it?

Date:

July 4th

Anakin counted the windows over and over, repeating the number in his head as he quietly trekked up the creaking rusted fire escape on Mr. Nelson’s side of the building. Not only was tonight a poetic release of this man’s long and happy existence, it was a very good cover.

Majority of the city was busy watching the fireworks at the celebration in the park, including you. Anakin had ensured you’d left before he even considered walking over to your building. He couldn’t bear the thought of committing a heinous, though arguably merciful, crime in the vicinity of such a pure form of radiance.

As expected the din of booming explosions and crackling sparks masked the noise of the quiet power drill Anakin used to remove bottom piece of the outer frame of the out-dated window. Internally cursing the fact that you lived in such an old building, there’s absolutely no way that these windows are up to code. It might make this task easier, but it made him a nervous wreck to think someone could break into your home in under a minute as long as they brought a drill and a magnet. The process was almost silent, you wouldn’t realize anything was amiss until it was too late.

Once the piece of frame was laid aside Anakin used the heavy duty magnet to coax the loose curved clasp that held the window shut, out of the hoop that it rested in. He sighed, thinking he should definitely complain to the super once he moved in. The ease of breaking and entering wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

Sure it was a wonderful thing for Anakin, there would be absolutely no trace of the break in. The man is old, there would be no autopsy, there are no outdoor cameras on this building or the one next to it. This unit is tucked into a well hidden alleyway and no one saw him walk this way. But his worries were based on thoughts of you and your well-being.

Anakin sprayed Wd-40 along the tracks of the metallic frame and waited a moment before wiping off the excess, hopefully ensuring a silent entry.

The moment of truth arrived, Anakin lifted the window just a hair to test it. Finding it whisper quiet despite its age as he opened it and stepped inside.

The interior of the home was just as you’d expect, family pictures, a fridge covered in cards and handwritten reminders. An obscene amount of carved wooden trinkets and the forever mysterious wooden fruit that seemed to adorn the tables of many an old folks homes. Apples and roosters strewn about the space in the form of paintings, lampshades and oddly detailed itchy blankets.

A gorgeous abalone jewelry dish held a silver pendant, trapped beneath was an intricate lace cover that seemed to be made specifically for the coffee table they rested on. Upon closer inspection Anakin determined that it was tailor made. Gloria Anne Nelson must’ve been a talented craftswomen, the quality of work was amazing.

Alan’s display of his wife’s work, her jewelry dish and her favorite engraved pendant… he’d made an altar for her and probably didn’t even realize it. He’d even placed a tall, thick white candle next to the abalone dish. It left Anakin with a lump in his throat, imagining the horrible loneliness this man must feel.

He stood up from his crouched position and took a breath, smoothing his shirt to iron out his emotions. There would be time for proper mourning and reflection later.

He walked toward the short hall that housed Alan’s bed room and bathroom, but stopped short when something on the wall caught his attention.

A calendar depicting a summertime scene of a lake and a small fishing boat was tacked to the wall above the dock for his home phone, a small note pad and pen resting beside it.

A small smile turning the corner of his lip, the sight bringing a fond memory of his grandmother keeping a set-up very similar to this. Must be a universal old person habit.

He stepped closer to read the writing in the small squares and came to the realization that this calendar was not up to date. This calendar was from 2013, ten years ago.

Anakin knew from his deep dive into the Nelson’s life that Gloria had passed on July 16th, but he didn’t realize that July 4th was the anniversary of Gloria and Alan’s first kiss.

She’d kept up with that anniversary for the entirety of 53 years. Poetic.

He took a look around the kitchenette and living room again. Really and truly looking this time, not just glazing over the bigger items, the things that caught his eye. This time he looked at the in between.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished he hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, it was something he’d never forget, an achievement he’d strive for for the rest of his life.

Alan’s home was a shrine.

A neatly kept time capsule full of warmth and fondness. It oozed from the very walls of the space. Gloria had never stepped foot in this space, but she dominated every inch of it. Her devoted husband had rebuilt his life in her image, even in death he worshipped her just as Anakin worshipped you.

A heavy weight settled in Anakin’s heart, this was the right choice. This confirmed it.

He quietly entered the bedroom, Alan’s C-PAP machine humming with a rhythmic flow of air, in, *scish*, *puftk*, out. It was soothing in a strange way, or maybe it was just a relief from the suffocating silence that compressed Anakin’s lungs when he was absorbing the space past the door.

He kneeled at the edge of the bed, pulling a small tube of lidocaine from his jacket hoodie pocket, along with a pair of gloves that he quickly donned. Wincing at the snap of the latex against his sweating palms, but the man continued his peaceful slumber, unaware that it would be his last.

He lifted the corner of the blanket and grimaced as he placed a small dollop of the cream via his index finger between Alan’s fourth and fifth toes. He didn’t even flinch.

Anakin kept the time on his watch and waited until the ointment did it’s job to numb the tender flesh. Fishing a small needle meant for insulin injections from a ziploc bag in pocket. Drawing a bit of air into barrel before carefully pricking the soft skin, holding his breath as his victim twitched.

When he stilled Anakin gently pushed the plunger and created a pocket of air in a vein that would soon end this poor souls life on earth. He withdrew the needle and stored it and the gloves in the ziploc bag, returning the blanket to its previous position.

He should’ve left then, but morbid curiosity had a tight hand around his wrist. Urging him to stay and wait out this event to its completion. So he tugged up his hood and stood motionless.

No one should be alone in their last moments. The least Anakin could do is provide silent support from the darkened corner. He counted the seconds on his watch until the man’s fingers twitched and his throat visibly tightened as a gurgled ball of air left his lungs. His eyes opened, wide and terrified as his body acted of its on volition.

Wrinkled hands weakly pawing at the C-PAP that was fitted over his head, Anakin watched his chest heave and collapse rapidly, the swell of his ribcage caving in on itself with each labored breath.

He’d heard of the ‘death rattle’ before but had never considered it to be anything other than a wives tale, until now. Alan’s choked coughs and gasping breaths reverberated in his chest and rolled up the stretch of his esophagus, coming out in a groan muffled by his lolled tongue.

He brought his fist to his chest in weak thumps, while his other reached over the side of the bed in the general vicinity of the night stand. It’s incredible what the human brain is capable of during such critical moments of stress. Anakin watch with a fascination that went beyond curiosity, wondering how the hell this guy was aware enough to try to grab the phone laying there.

Alan let his head fall to the side and his fading eyes blurred, but didn’t miss Anakin’s figure. To him, he was just a silhouette of midnight black. For some reason Anakin noticed a bit of the fear leave Alan’s tired eyes, softening as though he was accepting his quickly approaching end.

He stopped struggling, stopped reaching for the phone and instead held out a shaking hand to Anakin as though he wanted him to take it.

What kind of monster would deny a dying man?

He stepped forward on silent feet until he clasped the man’s wrist and felt his weak grip on his. The leathery skin was clammy, sickly to the touch and it made Anakin’s stomach churn.

“Death?” A small creaking attempt at the word eeked out of Alan’s lips.

“Yes sir.” Anakin responded. Was it true? No. But was it a lie? Also no. He was and he wasn’t.

“A-about…” the old man heaved, spittle flying from his mouth. “About damn time.”

Anakin was usually quick on his feet with his quips but this man’s nonchalant attitude, his welcoming of his fate was unexpected.

“Sorry Mr. Nelson.” He chuckled. “I’m a very busy man.”

He laughed. A rare occasion if not the only occasion that someone’s dying breath was a laugh. Anakin’s brow pinched together, wetting his lips with his tongue before chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched the life drain from his eyes.

Once his hand went slack and limp Anakin gently laid it across his chest, checked for a pulse and found none. He patted the old man’s shoulder and turned to exit the room, he didn’t look back and he didn’t take another breath until he set foot on the fire escape and the window was shut. Making quick work of closing the clasp and reassembling the metal frame.

He took a shaky breath and checked his watch. Bewildered by the passing of time. He literally couldn’t comprehend it, pulling out his phone to confirm. The times were indeed matching.

Three minutes and 57 seconds.

He was only inside for three minutes and 57 seconds. He felt like hours of his life had flown by, he felt both aged and more alive than he’d ever been. The only thing he could compare this feeling to was… the feeling he got because of you.

He’d done a good thing.

Alan said so himself, the man was ready, beyond ready to embrace death. Anakin had done him a favor by taking his life returning his soul to his soulmate.

It gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He thought maybe he would feel sick, he almost did, until he didn’t. He decided not to question his contentment, instead pocketing it to tuck away in the recess of his mind that he stored his more unhealthy thoughts and experiences in.

He liked that about himself, his ability to compartmentalize at will. He liked to be neat and tidy, it was only natural that his mind mirror that. He knew that it was just his mind’s creation; his mind didn’t really look like a neat room of filing cabinets.

He had one for childhood memories, one for his favorite happy memories, one for his mother, one for his friends, one for his work life, one for his home life. But the two most important things housed in the confines of his skull were the golden pedestal holding the beautifully crafted, one of a kind ceramic vase he poured his love for you into; and The Pit.

He didn’t like The Pit. His inner self kindly transported the things that belonged there via a lockbox and unceremoniously tossed it over the edge at a safe distance. Even the figment of his imagination in this scenario was too afraid to peer over the edge of the chasm. He’d never heard anything hit the bottom, if he got too close he would fall, and fall, and fall, and fall, and fall for eternity.

Then what would you do? Suffer through a sad existence like poor Mr. Nelson?

No. He can’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen. You’re to precious, too pure, too good to experience anything but radiant joy.

He breathed in relief as he found himself suddenly outside his front door, he’d traveled on autopilot.

He showered and tucked himself into bed, exhausted and drained emotionally. But not too much, not enough that he could neglect his duties. He checked the tracker on his phone, pleaded to see that you were abiding by your unspoken agreed upon curfew. Home before 2:00am. Always.

It was only 12:30. Good job princess.

He waited, following the little blue dot to the larger red one and switched over to the live camera feed and witnessed you chatting happily on your phone as you trotted up the stairs.

He thanked his past self from this morning and grabbed the laptop from his nightstand and patiently waited for the mirror image of your phone updated.

Luke. It was just Luke making sure you got home safe; maybe Luke wasn’t too bad after all. He wasn’t a threat to Anakin in anyway and he was concerned with your well-being. Not as much himself of course but enough that Anakin could throw a smidgen of respect his way, it’s nice to know he already has something in common with your best friend.

He did his routine night-time walk through of your device, seeing that you’d turned on your alarms for the next day already. He smiled fondly, his sleepy girl.

He turned up the sound on your bedroom camera, plugging up his phone and putting the laptop on the night stand. He placed his phone next to his head and listened to your breathing slow and relax.

He loved this. Sleeping with the sound of your soft snores and mumbled sleepy words. It was an intimacy that he craved to manifest into the flesh world.

Soon he would.

Someone please tell me that if you’ve waitressed/known a waitress who’s done shit like that?? If not I just told on myself for being a big fat liar.

Part Four

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky

@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani

@ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil

@sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut

@luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco

@sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra

@jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz

@queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141

@nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld

@1mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

338 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 9 months

Note

So, have you ever thought about this: Joey agreed to casually have sex with you but finds himself not being able to be casual about it at all so he starts trying to make a connection but you’re running away from these conversations?

(Having an intense måneskin-phase, can’t get over Baby said) ✨

- @nadixm

the way this request lit something on FIRE inside of me was a little unexpected, but thank you so much for sending it in! wasnt able to stop thinking about it after receiving it, so, <3 (girlies, this is obviously going to be 18+ so proceed with caution, and minors: fuck off) Wordcount: 3.9K

---

More Than This

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You were pretending you didn’t catch that.

But you’d seen him look.

Had felt his eyes on you.

That soft, half-lidded adoring type of shit, which was usually just this sappy post-orgasmic bliss Joe would swim in for a little bit.

Nothing more than biology. Hormones surging around the system and shit. That was all.

Joe would hook an arm somewhere and hold you in place until you gained the strength to let your combined sweat work in your favour, to let you slip free from him. Head for a shower if you were at your own flat – and hope Joe would let himself out whilst you were in there – or straight back into your clothes you’d have to pick up from the floor when you were at Joe’s.

You were in bed with him now, at his flat. You’d started by his front door about forty minutes ago – didn’t need more than a sultry look into each other’s eyes for you to be on him.

Joe hadn’t even greeted you, just stood in his own doorway and waited on the threshold for you to pop out of the lift. And then he didn’t step aside when you approached him.

Gave you no other choice but to launch yourself at him, did he?

Would only let you in if you were attached to him by the mouth and full torso, already ripping clothes from yourself or from him. Only then would he let you inside, turning the both of you around and into his flat for fear of you leaving clothing items out in the communal hallway.

It was like that with Joe.

You liked it like that with Joe.

Not much talk.

All sex.

Maybe a, “Is this new?” if you wore a top he’d never seen before, or a, “Blue, I like blue,” if he saw you’d changed your nails. Superficial shit. Things he’d see and could say something about to feign normal people chat. You never participated. Didn’t react to what he said. Would just yank the belt from his jeans which always either hurt you or hurt Joe.

And then it would get kissed better.

One time you bruised yourself because the belt whipped back at you, right in the face, and it had one of those metal pieces at the end that really fucking hurt. Joe had kissed you better for a long time then. All your escapades blended together, they had started to a short little while back, but you remembered that one time vividly because it was a real stand out. The way you’d gone from shooting pain in the face, pain that left your cheekbone legit bruised in blues and purples surrounding a bright yellow swollen bit of skin, to the pleasure of being cared for and being cared for was different.

Good different.

If you were feeling particularly needy, you’d refer to it still. Would ask Joe to kiss a random part of you better. You’d just point somewhere and go, “Am I red here? Skin’s not broken, is it?” because asking if something was bruised felt too on the nose.

Like Joe didn’t know what you were doing.

Not that it mattered.

Joe would kiss you anywhere for however long you wanted. And if he’d move away, and your throat made a desperate little noise, he’d just be back on you.

Anyway.

It was never anything too adventurous with Joe, but it was always good. It was good that you knew what to expect. Meant you weren’t scared of suggestions that would make you go, ugh, okay, this was fun whilst it lasted, but big nope.

Like, feet shit. Listen, no offence, but if Joe was going to suggest for you to step onto some pudding barefoot, this would be over real fast.

But it had never been like that.

Would never be like that.

You knew who to text for predictable sex that always happened on a soft surface. Where the rough person in the room was you, and you were by no means hard-handed. You’d maybe take Joe’s jaw into your hands a little rough every once in a while, because it’d make his pink lips look even more plush. Would occasionally leave teeth marks near his collar bone or around his thumb. But, that was about the extent of it.

Joe knew his lane. Could still surprise you within that lane from time to time, but you liked that Joe would never pretend to accidentally leave a ball gag out. No, oops how did that get here? sort of dumb shit.

No.

You’d lay eyes on each other and then get to a bed or a sofa as quickly as you could. Limbs tangled. Always kissing. Sharing breaths.

Joe loved kissing. Used it as foreplay but could do it for long without letting it go further until you’d grow restless, which always made Joe grin into the press of his lips against yours. Those were things you’d come to classify as one of the softer moments.

You didn’t mind a bit of emotion.

But kissing you until you were absolutely hungry for more, and then smiling where you could feel it? Almost too soft of a moment.

Those moments were tricky and were best kept to a minimum.

The looking at you after was one of those softer moments too. You were on your back and catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling, and Joe was just sort of... staring at you. Slowly studying your face from the side, letting his eyes dance over your profile like he’d never seen it before.

Joe looked and looked and looked until you turned your head and he quickly looked away. Pretended he hadn’t been looking. Like peripheral vision wasn’t a thing.

“I don’t like it when you do that,”

Blunt.

But it was sort of nice to just say what you were thinking without being afraid of hurting feelings.

There were no feelings.

Nothing to hurt around here.

“What?”

Joe turned his head back and looked again. Less deep this time though. Not so hormonal.

“Look at you? After what we’ve just done I can’t look at you?”

He knew you’d seen. Was about to say he shouldn’t be blamed because it was sort of your fault. Had you seen yourself? Did you know what you looked like to others? To men? To him, after what you’d just done to each other and with each other?

He didn’t think you knew. Well, maybe you knew, but you’d never understand.

“No, you can look,” you lied, because you really did not like it. Made you feel all sorts of uncomfortable.

“But the looking away when I catch you does my head in. Look at me like you mean it or keep your eyes closed.”

It earned a huff of laughter from Joe who now rolled over onto his side to watch without restriction. No hiding what he was doing. You could only bear a couple of seconds of it before you sat up, stomach muscles working hard at pulling you upright, earning a groan that escaped your constricted throat.

“No, come on,” Joe’s hand was quick, moved from his side to grab at one of your arms. “I won’t look, all right?” he tried, like that would change everything and make you lay back down again.

You’d already scooped your bra up from the floor.

“I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” you said over your shoulder as you sorted the straps before covering your chest back up.

Joe let himself fall back as he let an annoyed sound escape him when you reached for your underwear next. If it had been any more guttural, you’d maybe have taken it seriously.

“You’ve always got an early day tomorrow,” he complained.

“Yea, well, some of us have office hours they need to abide by, can’t just go gallivant whenever we’d like, have to request time off and– it’s a whole ordeal,” you spoke like your life was burdened by the structure of a steady job and a permanent contract.

It wasn’t.

But, you know. You couldn’t go out and stay out late on random Tuesdays like Joe could.

Not that you wanted to go out with Joe on random Tuesdays.

You wanted Joe in between some sheets for an hour on random Tuesdays. And, any other time when you were up for it, really. When you wanted soft touches and face-to-face sex where Joe forced eye-contact.

No.

Joe never forced anything.

But Joe would go, “hey,” real soft, would repeat it until you actually heard it, and it would make you look at him. Then he’d hold your gaze. Was very intense sometimes, especially if you were close and he held eye-contact right as he fucked you through it.

If that was one of the softer moments was still up for debate. Maybe occasionally it was. Kind of depended on your mood, though.

“You got any plans for the weekend then?” Joe’d given up on trying to keep you there for now, and instead focussed on when the next time would be.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

Your sister’s boyfriend had a birthday barbecue that you’d attend, and you needed to find a good cobbler to fix a shoe you’d broken in a mad dash for a tube replacement bus the other day but – no real plans. You vaguely recalled other plans for the Friday night, but nothing was set in stone. There was still plenty of time for a little limb-tangling with Joe.

“Are you around?” you asked, pulling your top over your head, and standing up before turning to see Joe working his arms as he tried to place the covers back in the correct position from where he laid.

“Should be,”

“All right,” you nodded and found your jeans.

“All right,” Joe copied your tone of voice and the nod. You frowned at how corny that was.

“I’m stealing a drink from your fridge,” you said, stepping into said jeans and already making your way out of the bedroom.

“Squash is on the side,” Joe lazily gestured, having learnt by now you never just drank a bottle of water normally like a sane person. Then quickly and more pressingly Joe followed up with, “And I don’t want to find mouthfuls of my leftovers missing!”

You grinned to yourself out of his sight.

You were absolutely going to stick a fork into whatever tubs he had in there. You deserved it after swallowing Joe the way you had moments ago, and he knew it too.

“Focus on the important things, Joe,” you called back from the kitchen, going for a fork. “Like condoms. You’ve barely got any left.”

Fork in hand, you went for the fridge. Found a bottle of water in the door that you were going to put some squash into in a second.

And then, when your eyes looked towards the shelves, your breath hitched in your throat.

This idiot.

What an... all right. Nope. You weren’t going to do this. This wasn’t who you and Joe were and you weren’t going to play along with this.

You see, Joe was a Tupperware man – would always cook too much and then dump whatever he had left over into Tupperware that would fill up his fridge until he could go a full week just eating what he’d already cooked up days ago. It was a side effect of living alone and not knowing fucking portion sizes. Especially for pasta.

Almost every leftover Joe ever had in his fridge was pasta.

Made sense.

You also couldn’t measure spaghetti for the life of you.

What annoyed you about it most was how Joe seemed sort of messy, like any guy was messy, but the inside of his fridge was organised to the point where you thought he had health inspection checking up on him. It was all dated with sharpies – the leftovers. Like he was a professional chef that couldn’t get away with opening something up and just giving it a good whiff to decide whether that was still okay to eat or not.

Annoying.

But, what really got you, is that amongst the four or five tubs of dinner sat one smaller one. One with a little post-it note stuck to it with your name on.

This idiot made his fridge look like the one at your office.

One with Tupperware that had a name stuck to it.

A little preportioned bit of leftovers just for you inside Joe’s fridge, so you wouldn’t have to go digging into any of the other containers.

You took the note, looked at it up close and then flung it onto the counter. You ignored it. Went for a larger tub and opened that, ever the rebel. Let your fork run through it, messed it all up real nice and then took a big bite, grimacing at how cold it was.

Was still good though. Nice.

You closed the tub. Opened another.

Did the same thing – grimaced more because cold but also, it was really annoying how fucking good it still was. Joe either followed killer mommy food blogs, or just... knew shit about cooking. Was a whole ass natural in the kitchen when it came to herbs and spices and things.

Whatever.

You placed the tub back and purposefully left the lid off. Left that on the counter. Smirked at yourself when you closed the fridge and caught a last glance of your fork still inside there.

“Hey,” Joe stepped into his living room, in boxers and a T-shirt now.

You quickly swallowed and got busy with the squash.

“I’ve got um, I’m seeing my friend, he’s got a gig on Friday, it’s at a small venue near Brick Lane,” Joe talked in a casual tone of voice, made his way over to the fridge and opened it to remove the fork.

You feigned innocence. Ignored the whole thing as Joe reached around you to grab the lid you’d left out.

“Sounds cool,” you said, taking a sip to check you liked how sweet you’d made your drink. “Have fun.”

You knew he meant, come with me.

You knew this was his casual way of suggesting you could also maybe hang out together outside of the activities at your flat and his.

But he wasn’t using the actual words, so it was stupidly easy to pretend you had no idea what Joe was trying to do.

“Yea,” Joe spoke around a deep inhale, placing the lid back onto the Tupperware and then gave you a polite tight-lipped smile as he closed the fridge again. “Thanks.”

The way you wanted to squish Joe’s face to wipe that stupid smile off before messing that whole fridge up made your fingers itch a little.

When Joe moved to place the fork into the dishwasher, you decided that was your cue to leave. Man was cleaning up after you and couldn’t even leave the fork in the sink for a second like a normal person.

“Maybe see you after?”

It was a careful question, but one he knew he probably would get a yes to.

“Yea, maybe,” you said nonchalantly, slinging arms into your jacket. “Text me.”

You expertly left everything up in the air. You might have the time for him on Friday, you might not. You weren’t going to go see an amateur band with him though, that was for sure. That wasn’t what this was.

You’d been clear with each other from the start.

Hadn’t used the actual words, but, you were both adults and it was understood that this was what it was going to be. It was never anything else than what it had been tonight and good.

That was good.

You’d met Joe at a party you were only at because it was in your building and your neighbour had invited the whole flat just so no one would complain about the noise. A nice gesture, but never meant as an actual invitation. But it was the flat above yours, and you’d tried to go to sleep, but there were people out on the balcony and they had music going, so there was dancing and feet stomping and – it was all just, loud. You’d thought, all right fuck it, I could go for a few drinks, plan being you’d fall asleep much faster with a bit of drink in the system.

Joe was there.

You’d rocked up in an oversized T-shirt, bicycle shorts and socks in slides. Hair messy with the evidence of the stirring you’d done in your bed.

Joe’d taken one look and knew exactly what was going on. He guessed, but, he’d been right. He was looking at someone from inside the building. There just because they’d technically received an invitation, even if it was only so that they wouldn’t complain about the noise.

“Drink?”

“Yes please,”

For the first fifteen minutes of the two of you talking, you thought Joe was your neighbour. He was the one who’d let you in and who’d walked you into the kitchen.

Yet he wasn’t the neighbour.

Joe sort of knew someone who knew someone who knew your neighbour, vaguely. The person who lived in the flat above you was also a girl, something you weren’t aware of. Her name was Charlie, so you couldn’t really blame yourself for assuming the invitation had come from a guy.

Joe also gave you a drink that was so fucking gross, you immediately went, “What the fuck is this? Petrol?” and he’d gone, “You don’t like it?” before saying he’d try again, do a better job for your next one. You immediately felt bad, seeing as he’d mixed the drink, and had thrown the whole glass back to prove that the drink was fine.

Getting it down was a big task though, and your whole face contorted as you worked at swallowing every single last drop down. Made you shiver and made Joe laugh as he said, “No, no, no, don’t drink it if you don’t like it,” but it was all in your mouth already and fuck, that tasted like it was just pure vodka.

Which you then learned is exactly what that was.

“Dry martini with a twist,”

“What’s the twist? That’s it’s just a big glass of vodka?”

“I mean... yes, it’s exactly that, with a twist.” Joe said dryly and tapped the piece of lemon rind in his own glass. “Bit of lemon.”.

You had nearly burst into laughter. Nearly, because this man was a stranger, and you did come over to get a slight buzz going, so that just happened to work out exactly how you planned it.

“Are there any... I don’t know, regular beers? No twists?” and you’d craned your neck to see behind Joe, to look into the kitchen, which, you knew where the kitchen was because the floorplan was obviously the same to your flat.

Joe’d taken you over to the fridge.

Gave you a no twist beer.

And then later, you’d taken Joe over to your bedroom.

Had no twist sex.

It was so obvious you were looking for the weakest excuse to get Joe over to your place. You were both sort of scraping the barrel, didn’t want to just say it, because you had more dignity than that.

So you’d thrown out your fishing rod and hoped Joe would bite when you looked into the living room of your upstairs neighbour and said, “I like where she placed her sofa, that wouldn’t work in my flat,”

Joe bit immediately.

“Nah, ‘course it would, let’s go try.”

You’d not even gotten close to your sofa that night. Straight from the front door into your bedroom and then straight back towards the front door a short 60 minutes later.

And then it had been like that.

You’d text to check availability and then would either go, “omw” or “come here” and neither of you were ever too proud to pretend you didn’t want it. It was either a, “can’t im busy” or “ive got some time” and it worked fine like that.

It helped neither of you had flatmates you needed to explain shit too.

Except, if you had, you would’ve figured out Joe was somebody a lot sooner.

Oh well.

Joe was nobody in his flat, and even less of a somebody over in yours. You kept him in your phone as first name Joe last name No Twist and refused to change it to Quinn. He wasn’t any better than all the other guys whose last names were all Hinge, or the closest tube station to where they lived.

“Here,” Joe said, just before you were about to leave. You looked back and saw he was holding out the little container of leftovers.

You frowned at it.

“Take it, but heat it up in a pan with a little olive oil, don’t eat it when it’s still cold and stiff from the fridge,”

You kept frowning but held a hand out to take it from him anyway. This felt a bit like refusing to take a tenner from you grandmother because you didn’t need a tenner, but, it was still a tenner, you know?

“I’ll probably hate it,” you lied, stuffing the Tupperware into your bag.

“And you can tell me all about it on Friday,”

Stupid little smirk.

Okay, so sure, you were going to see Joe on Friday after this gig he had to go to. And you’d tell him about how much you hated his leftovers.

Also, if Joe was thinking he was going to get this little container back, he was wrong.

That was yours now.

With squash in hand, you said goodbye and made your way out by yourself. Didn’t need or want Joe to walk you out – Joe knew. Understood. Stayed in his kitchen, but did call, “Text me when you get home,” after you because he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t know you’d gotten home safe.

“Yea, yea,” you dismissed him, loudly said, “Condoms!” to remind him and gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror by the door before you left. Closed the door behind you a little more rested and satisfied than you had been when you’d walked through it a little while earlier.

Whilst making your way out of the building, you whipped your phone out and found the right text thread.

“can’t do friday, something came up, soz”

And then went over to your calendar where you removed “james hinge” and replaced it with “joe no twist”

James could wait.

James never made you pasta.

Joe did.

Joe would make sure you orgasmed – like, he’d keep going until he could feel the evidence of it himself, would make sure the question “did you come” was unnecessary, and would make sure there was squash on the side and now, Joe had made you pasta.

Yea, you were going to see Joe again on Friday.

You made the mental note to keep his staring to a minimum though. Would have to make him come and then immediately force him out of bed to clean the sheets, or whatever.

Less of the soft shit.

You were going to tell him his pasta was fucking disgusting.

Telling Joe you loved the food he made before climbing on top of him was too soft of a moment. Those moments were tricky. Best kept to a minimum.

---

The Taglisted

@05secondsofsexgods, @a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @luvrsbian, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #18+#more than this

626 notes · View notes