#so it feels really fucking good when it does happen

[simpjaes]

enha hyung line wet dreams :ccc

hyung line + wet dreams

warning: free use, somnophilia

mdni.

☆ jay:

the type to be embarrassed because during waking hours, he's a bit against letting people see him be weak. not saying he wouldn't care for you publicly or during waking hours, i think it's just more so the fact that he wouldn't let people know he needs attention or care too. so, ofc, waking up on the brink of an orgasm to seeing you already looking at him curiously, he'd feel embarrassed. ears red, blood rushing straight to his cock, which would only jump at sensitivity when he tries to shift and turn with a small "sorry, had a nightmare."

he knows better than anyone how bad of a liar he is. so, when you respond with a knowing laugh and a "oh? a nightmare huh? which horror had you moaning like that then?"

it would likely end with you being the one to make the move for him. with his back turned to you trying to wish away the embarrassment only to feel your hand reach around to help him out. he'd immediately sigh out with a sleepy moan and probably grab at your wrist to force a perfect pace :( turning slightly to kiss against you with small and embarrassed little breathy thank yous.

★ jake:

1000% humping against you in his sleep. probably dead asleep when you wake up to the damp spot against your leg that seeps through his sweat pants. you'd have to shake him awake, or jerk him off a little so he wakes up properly to take care of the problem.

absolutely happens a lot too. like even if you guys had sex the night before, he's ready to go mid fucking sleep and despite how exhausted you are, all it takes is a little bit of heavy petting and he'll usually do the rest. he's definitely not embarrassed either, though he'll probably wake up mid-orgasm time and time again and immediately cling to you just to prolong the feeling.

also mutters out apologies like jay would, but not because he's embarrassed. mostly because he knows you're sleepy and he knows he's gonna have to keep you awake ;-; you guys probably have some sort of free use agreement after a while though, where if he wakes up at 3:30 in the morning needing to get his dick wet, all he needs to do is roll over, spoon you a little, and play with you until he can slip it right in . gotta get the quickie out of the way so you both can return to peaceful sleep sdkjhfkjsdfds AAAAAAAAAAAAA

☆ sunghoon:

similar to jay but probably not sorry about it. he'll wake from his wet dream not giving a shit about anything but getting off. whether that includes him jerking off to your pretty, sleeping form, or him waking you up by shoving his cock between your thighs and fucking forward with a tight grip pulling you back against him. bro is desperate and insane when he's sleepy, probably even a bit annoyed at his own libido for waking him up if he needs to get up early.

at first, you're probably a little shocked waking up to such a harsh grip adjusting your near-limp body, maybe you even let out a little yelp followed by his deep groaning at the pleasure he uses you for. you'd get used to it though, and absolutely not be opposed to him using you if he needs it. after all, he can be quite vanilla at times, so this would be a welcome change even if it only happens once every few months.

also the type to be in a really good mood the next morning. breakfast in bed type shit, bringing you roses when he gets back home type shit.

★ heeseung:

gets pissy because he always wakes up at the best part, but always feels better knowing you're like...right there next to him. sometimes he just fists his cock himself if he's particularly tired, spilling out on you and letting you sleep through the mess lol, other times he's probably waking you up because he's hovering over you and flipping you over so he can start rubbing the head of his cock between your legs.

wouldn't apologize and instead would go straight to dirty talking and probably praise for you just so he can get what he wants. he does always make sure you get off too though, unlike some of the others here *coughjakecough*. he'd def soothe you through the dry penetration though. not saying he'd do it politely. SDKJHFKSDJ probably more just say shit like "yeah, you'll let me, right?" followed by a "knew you would, baby, knew it." with a lil kiss right under your jaw lmfao. [the evil heeseung agenda continues]

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #jake smut #jay smut

[uzurakis]

heyy !! i was looking at your profile which is amazing btw and saw someone desperate like me for some kaiser content. maybe smth involving reader wearing his jersey and well… yk.. :33

“aah, someone’s been a thief,” kaiser teases, eyeing the jersey that fits snugly on you. the way the fabric drapes over your shoulders, slightly too big yet perfectly fitting; it’s like you’re carrying a piece of him with you, and it fills him with a sense of pride. “i was wondering where that went.”

during a break from practice, your boyfriend spots you and jogs over, his eyes widening as he notices the familiar jersey. a nasty smile forms on his lips as he approaches, clearly intrigued.

playing pretend, you feign innocence, glancing down at the jersey. “oh, this? i thought it was mine. it fits me perfectly, don’t you think?”

it does, it looks perfect on you. oh how much kaiser wants to say that. but no, there’s still one thing he needs to hold high; a man’s ego.

so, kaiser narrows his eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “nice try, but we both know that’s my jersey. or maybe you happen to be one of my fangirls that shop their favorite—“

“oh, shut up,” that cocky attitude of his is not getting anywhere under your watch. then you shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. “well, finders keepers. maybe you should have kept a better eye on your stuff.”

“ouch, you’re saying i’m messy person? that hurts, mein liebling,” he chuckles, one mirthless laugh falling in your ears. “why don’t you wear it tomorrow for the match?” kaiser suggests playfully. “that way, everyone knows you’re mine.”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, i don’t know. there will be a lot of fans wearing jerseys with your name on them. even you could mistake me as one of your crazy fangirls. yuck.”

kaiser’s smirk fades, replaced by a mock pout. “but none of them are you,” he says, tone slightly possessive. “it’s different when you wear it. like, it’s special.”

still playing along, you raise an eyebrow. “oh, so now it’s special because i’m wearing it? maybe it’s just a really good jersey.”

he laughs at your remarks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “mein liebling, seriously, seeing you in my jersey makes me feel… proud..?”

“because when you wear it, it’s a statement. it says you belong to me. and i like that.”

“i like what’s mine.”

you feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “well, maybe i’ll consider it,” you reply, trying to keep your cool. “maybe though.”

his grins broadens, clearly pleased with your response. “good girl. now, how about a kiss for luck?”

you laugh, “only because michael asked so nicely.” leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips, you continue, “anything else you want, your highness?”

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “you better be in the front row tomorrow. front and center,” he murmurs against your lips. “i play better when i know you’re watching.”

you smile, but what if you still want to mess with him? “huuh, but i also haven’t said i’ll watch your—“

“don’t fucking care, you will watch me,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. “now, go cheer me on. i’ve got a game to win.”

n. i’m taking this way babes. we can also talk abt it if u wanna take it that way *winks aggressively* jus hmu as always <3 mwah ty for trusting me wit every kaiser piece here ahhsakksjs. also! tagging another kaiser lover @6gumi mwaaah xo

@uzurakis

#.writing #blue lock #blue lock scenarios #blue lock michael kaiser #blue lock kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk scenarios #bllk kaiser #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser fluff #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #kaiser fluff #blue lock imagines #kaiser michael #kaiser #kaiser blue lock #kaiser bllk

[lurochar]

Racy Reverie

In response to this ask

18+ MDNI

-------

“Finally, you don't know how much I need this!”

You smiled at Angel Dust, who collapsed on the opposite side of the couch from you. “I don't mind talking about your job if you need to, Angel.”

“You sure ‘bout that, Toots?” Angel Dust snickered at you, but then sighed almost wearily. “Not sure why you're the only one willing ta listen to me after a hard day, ya know? I mean, everyone in this hotel is a secret freak, right?”

You blinked.

“Little Miss Sunshine and Vagina – you've heard them go at it when they forget to put up their soundproof barrier, huh? Like damn, wonder who's using the strap there?”

That was true, they were quite loud when they failed to remember that important little detail.

“And c’mon, ya think that pussycat wasn't drowning in pussy himself back when he was an Overlord? Or maybe he likes cock better? I can’t tell with that guy. He’s got a good poker face, I can tell you that much.”

Honestly, you had no idea either which gender Husk preferred – he would probably choose a bottle of booze rather than a warm body if you had to guess.

“And Snakes? He has two dicks. Nuff said about that. And he calls me the whorebug?” Angel Dust scoffed. “And Niffty? Uhh, yeah, let’s… let’s just not get into her little mind of horrors.”

Well said.

“And so,” Angel Dust glanced up, a frisky smile suddenly gracing his face, “that just leaves you and Smiles. Spill, Toots. No need to be shy ‘round me. Don’t hold anything back. Everyone here knows you’re both a ‘thing’. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Creepy is into some fucking weird shit, isn’t he?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Alastor… isn’t–” You struggled to put it into exact words. “He doesn’t, well…” You scratched the side of your head in frustration.

“Ah, is he pulling the whole ‘proper gentleman’ bullshit? Doing the courting thing?” Angel Dust shrugged. “I remember you mentioning he died in the ‘30s or something? Does he really believe in the ‘no sex before marriage’ crap? Cuz let me tell ya, I died not that long after that, people weren’t as proper as you’d like to think they were back then.”

You glanced away. “Maybe… that’s a part of it.” You knew Alastor had little interest in the more intimate aspects of a relationship and he had admitted to you he had never done anything with anyone in either his mortal life and afterlife.

Of course you desired to touch him and for him to touch you beyond his own little affections – usually him placing his hand on the small of your back and perhaps a kiss on your forehead.

Alastor was not an affectionate man and you knew that going in and you respected that, but he had never outright told you it would never happen and so you could only hope it may happen one day.

“But this is about you! I said I would listen, you had a tough day, right?” You said quickly, earning a sympathetic look from Angel Dust, but he got the message to change the subject back to himself.

“Bleh, yeah, you got that right! Val’s into this thing called ‘bukkake’ right now, ever heard of that?” He earned a shake of your head. “It’s some Asian shit. It’s where multiple guys cum on you. So I’ve got like twenty Hellhounds cumming on my face – and fuck, dunno if you watch porn or not, but the loads some of those dogs are packing! Felt like I was fuckin’ drowning–”

Your face felt hot and Angel Dust’s voice felt distant as you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together. You weren’t a virgin, but you weren’t exactly swimming in experience either as you only had a few sexual encounters in life and none had involved… that.

What would it be like, Alastor cumming on your face?

Would you be on your knees in front of him? On a bed beneath him? Would he stroke himself to completion or would you use your mouth? Would he call you endearing pet names or be degrading towards you?

Oh fuck– 

“Hey, Toots! Still there?” Angel Dust broke you out of your fantasizing and you jumped, blinking and feeling your face burn with sheer embarrassment. “Shit, was that too much?”

“No, no!” You tried to wave it off like you weren’t affected. “I-it’s fine! You can continue!” You swallowed thickly.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I think I got what I needed off my chest. Thanks for listening to me, Toots.” Angel Dust stood up from the couch. “Wanna get a drink with me?”

You could definitely use a drink right about now. “Yes. Yes, I would.” You got up, heading over to the bar with Angel Dust.

Neither of you noticed the shadow listening in.

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

[mikedfaist]

hiii lov, can u do mike w a pregnant reader please?🥹

i don't know how this happened but jesus took the wheel on this one. you can probably find the exact point where i had to tell myself to stop and just get to the fucking point of this ask

It was his mom that first had suspicion, having watched you nearly purge your lunch from simply the smell of French onion soup, though she remained reticent of her reservation. So, it became of no surprise to her when she calls her son one afternoon, only to find he’s meandering up and down the aisles of a CVS, in search of some Dramamine to help combat your nausea.

“I think it’s some stomach bug… All she does is sleep and throw up.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. A couple days? It’s worse when she first wakes up but it’s kind of up and down throughout the day.”

“You must have a good immune system if you haven’t caught this bug.” He doesn’t coherently reply, but she can hear him hum in response. “Well, let me know if she needs anything. See if she will try some peppermint tea to help with the nausea.”

She isn’t one to meddle; she’ll let her son figure this one out on his own.

It was on that third morning, for the third time, you found yourself sprawled on the bathroom floor, seeking the frigid linoleum with welcoming arms. You focus your thoughts on the sound of the ceiling fan in your bedroom whirring above, and the light snores coming from your partner, who is lucky not to have had his sleep rudely disrupted.

You think the worst has passed you, but any sudden movements could send you right back into a spiral. You close your eyes and pace your breathing, concentrating on the whirring, when you feel a shift and the bathroom door lightly knocks against your feet.

“Babe?” His voice is deep with sleep, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him peek from the sliver of space in the doorway. “Happening again?”

You murmur an acknowledgement, bringing your knees up to your chest to allow him full entry. He doesn’t say anything this time, not when the days before he’s met with a sharp remark, teeth clenching around unwavering nausea on the brink of collapse.

He shuffles in behind you, knees cracking as he bends down to join you on the floor.

“I need you to do me a favor,” you begin, “and I don’t want to talk about it… Just need you to do it without questions.” He’s staring at you, brows furrowing. “I need you to get me a pregnancy test.”

“You don’t really think—”

“What did I just say?” You bit back, and he instantly retreated. You felt him shift behind you, leaning forward to find your hand and give you a supportive squeeze.

“I’ll be back.”

When he returns, you have finally managed to return to the confines of your bed. He held the plastic bag in his hand, unsure where to put it; passing a glance to you as he met you on your side.

“Do you want to now, or…?”

The anxiety would eat you alive if you chose to wait another second without answers. You sat up, took the bag from his hand, and sauntered back into the bathroom. Mike sat on the edge of the bed, toying with the frayed ends of your blanket. He hasn’t really had time to process what could possibly be this life-altering news. You two had thought children were still a couple years out, though the idea thrilled him to a degree. He could always slow down his career if it meant he’d become a father in some 8 months.

He always imagined the spare bedroom as a nursery. He thought about what color they’d paint it, and if he’d take the risk and build a crib by hand. Who would the baby most resemble? What color hair and eyes? Would it have heterochromia like he did? Probably not.

He’s forced out of his thoughts when the bathroom door opens, and you return to him with the test in your hand.

“It says wait 90 seconds, but I haven’t been counting.” You look down at the test and tap it against your palm. “False positives and negatives can happen, so there’s another test in the box to take later to be sure.”

“What do you want?”

“What do you want?”

“I want whatever you want.”

“Mike, I don’t…fuck, I don’t do well under pressure.” You tighten your grip around the test to withhold the urge to hurl it across the room.

“Give it to me.” He reaches his hand out, but you hesitate. “It has to of been 90 seconds by now.”

“If I look then it’s real.”

“Babe, it’s real whether we look or not…and maybe you’re not. But if you are, I am here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was the beginning. After a positive test that left you in a mess on the bedroom floor, and a second one later that evening – and ultimately a third one from a doctor – you two were moving onto this new chapter in your lives together, whether you were ready or not. It took a couple days to let that shock wear off, but once it did, you found yourself ordering pregnancy books online, and scrolling forums, and even looking at maternity clothes that you weren’t even ready for yet.

As for Mike, he was quick to understand pregnancy was not going to be an easy feat for you. The morning sickness persisted, and it led him to research online for some medicines that might ease that burden on you. Peppermint tea just wasn’t cutting it. He would also read the pregnancy books you got, because he couldn’t quite grasp the idea that your organs will just casually move out of the way as the baby grows.

“I don’t get it—where are they moving to? How is there room?”

“There just is…I don’t know.”

The cravings are what took him by storm. You’d wake up in the middle of the night to make pancakes, or a quesadilla, or brownies solely for the batter. If you didn’t have what you were desiring the most, you best believe you’re waking him up, ridden with guilt, because you can’t sleep because all you can think about is a Red Baron pizza.

You have an app on your phone that tracks the size of the baby, and compares it to fruit, so every month, the two of you go to the store to get the fruit that is subsequently your baby.

“Is it weird we’re going to eat it?”

“Just don’t think about it…”

He’ll hold the fruit in his hand and be completely mesmerized. His child is actually the size of a mango?

And you best believe he cried hearing the heartbeat on the ultrasound for the first time, and don’t get me started on when he got to see his little bean for the first time, who was merely just a grey blob on the screen.

He’s obsessed with your growing bump. Always wanting to touch it, lay next to it, feel the little kicks from the inside. Countless nights he has fallen asleep beside it. He keeps all the sonogram photos in his wallet, and some on his bedside table. He’ll show them to anyone who dares to ask.

“The size of a mango. Can you believe that?”

You’ll model for him your new maternity dresses that have been in your shopping cart for months. (He loves it all). He’s there for the foot massages when your feet begin to swell. The back rubs when your bump has grown large enough to cause discomfort. The minute panic attacks when your Braxton Hicks contractions hit in the middle of the night. (He was prepared for this one though, thanks to your pregnancy books).

There are hundreds of photos of you on his camera of your growing bump. He alone could fill a scrapbook to completion. Ones of you at farmers market stalls, or walking around the neighborhood, sorting through all of the baby clothes you bought, deeply contemplating the nursery color in the paint section.

He remembers how scared you were in the beginning, but the two of you have really become a proper family.

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist talk

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

__♤________________________________________________

What he feels for you isn't love, far from it, but obsession, he doesn't want to cherish you and hold you, he doesn't need your love either. What he wants is to own you, hide you, rough you up and so much more...but never love you. Love comes with a price, it's a lesson he's learned. So he does the one thing that he's sure will do the trick, he kidnaps you. Afterall, who in their right mind would ever fall in love with their captor?

You. You do.

But honestly how could you not? How could you not fall in love when he spoils you rotten with novels of your choices? Ignoring the chain on your ankle is easy enough, small things like those are hardly a bother. How could you not fall in love when he provides everything you need and more? Forget the fact that he doesn't treat you like a person, you don't mind it when the benefits are so good. How could you not fall in love when he installs a bookshelf in your designated room for you plethora of books? No need to mention the fact that he doesn't let you out, you don't like meeting people anyways so it's a win-win situation.

And how could you not fall in love when he's so focused in fulfilling your demands of playing out scenes from your books? Whimpering and whining softly when you slowly ride his thick cock, too afraid to pick up the pace and distract him, his hand lazily resting on your thighs as he skims through the smutty portion of your newly bought novel that had you not-so-discreetly rubbing your thighs together. "You're supposed to be cumming after a few minutes now" he mumbles, finally tossing the book away and narrowing his eyes at the way your gummy walls swallow him oh so slowly. "But that's not gonna happen at this pace" he sighs, his hold on your hips tightening as he forcefully drags you up, up, up before slamming you down and pulling out a garbled moan of you. "I like this scene a lot so indulge me a little"

The food is good, your schedule is okay and the sex is great, you don't hate it so much so you choose to stay docile. So docile, in fact, that he gets rid of your chains entirely so and allows you to roam around the house, only around the house. You're not allowed to go out yet but you don't mind, you'd rather stay cooped up watching a movie, reading a book or even renovating a room entirely to your taste without a care in the world during the day. But oh, when the moonlight starts pouring in through the blinds is when you actually start getting busy.

Explaining your day when your knees are pressed up against your head and he's plowing his dick into you isn't really an easy job. Only being able to manage out broken sentences and garbled words when he meanly asks you questions after questions with each thrust, kissing your swollen lips as a reward when you actually manage to answer him, albeit barely. You start to think he's mean when his hand snakes down to your abused clit to draw taut circles on it, grin widening when you wail out at the overstimulation and scratch at his back. His reasoning of abuse? He's probably not fucking you hard enough since you're still able to think, why were you still talking?

He doesn't love you, he can't love you but he just can't help the pulls in his heart strings when you wiggle your way through his arms to rest your head ontop of his chest with a bright grin, asking him questions that you pull out of your ass. He can't stop the small smile tugging at his lips when you absent-mindedly flop down on his lap, leaning against him as you flip through your newly purchased book, too engrossed to notice his arms locking itself around your waist and burying his face in your hair. He can't stop the mini butterflies in his stomach from going wild when you lazily drawl out a 'Welcome back' from the couch in the living room, head propped up on the arm rest as you watch the movie adaptation of your favorite book for the billionth time. He doesn't love you but he sure as hell doesn't hate the way you love him despite his initial expectations. He doesn't need you to love him but sometimes, just sometimes, he just wants you to continue loving him like this sometimes.

___________________________________________________

Midnight inspirations hitting me hard😖

Characters that this applies to? (I need serious help, writing this took all my thinking capabilites😔)

Satoru (I wrote this based off him in the start lol), Suguru?, Chrollo, Lawliet

Links : Masterlist ♤ Serieslist

#nuhuhwinniepooh #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #suguru x reader #jjk x you smut #jjk smut #suguru x reader smut #chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader smut #lawliet x reader #death note x reader

[fightmewiatch]

The emotion behind the way Edwin uses fuck is so heavy, because outside of the pilot episode and the scene on the stairs, he doesn't swear. He's a proper boy, repressed and focused and he bottles everything up.

In the Pilot, "The police don't know what to do with a fucking witch", he isn't swearing about the witch. He's angry, and he's upset, and he's frustrated. He's trying to focus on solving this case, saving the girl, doing the right thing, fixing things. Edwin spent seventy years in Hell, fighting for a way out (the detail in his journal, he didn't get out on the first try, he spent those 70s years trying over and over and over to find a way out - but that is a story for a whole other time), torture and pain and heartbreak, only to get out and fall into the school to find out no one cared that he died. "An act of God." The school wrote him off, everyone wrote it off and that was it, that was the end of it, no one cared that a 16 year old boy went to bed and was never seen or heard from again, poof, gone. He spent Charles' last moments with him to keep him company, and calm, and not scared, the two of them knowing what had happened only for the school to once again cover up the death of a 16 year old boy and pretend that whatever happened didn't. Edwin spent the next 30 years connecting with Charles, trying to help ghosts so they don't spend their entire afterlives in a state of absolute sorrow and heartbreak like has. We get such a bare taste of the ghosts they've saved and helped move on, who knows how much good they've truly done, how many they've saved from going to Hell on technicalities like Edwin had done. He's frustrated with Crystal, because he's spent 30 years working with Charles and only with Charles, he knows his friend, he knows how he behaves and how he works and how he acts, those two are connected on a level some people only dream about, and here she comes, she latches on, and she joins them to help but she's so hyper focused on herself and David (understandably so), that she isn't giving the same attention to the case that Edwin and Charles have always done, and he's angry, and he feels like it's going to happen to this girl, he is worried that her focus on David, is going to cause them to fail. Crystal has every right to be upset and scared and everything else that she is, but she doesn't consider, until that moment, that Edwin has a right to be upset about how it seems to be interfering with the case. The way that she reacts when he says "The police don't know what to do with a fucking witch," she realizes it then just how important this case is. Edwin was dragged to hell, the boys around him obliterated - leaving behind the idea that maybe he was, too - so to the school, maybe Edwin just disappeared, like Becky, like all the other little girls over the years in Port Townsend. Solving Becky's case is so damn important to Edwin that he is taking it personally. And while it's subtle, Charles reacts to him swearing, too, as though Edwin does not swear. And based on the rest of the season, it's clear he really doesn't. The way he swears in the pilot is from a place of complete and utter sorrow and anger.

In ep 7, it's different. He's spent the whole season struggling with who is he, trying to come to terms with a feeling he'd repressed for at least a century, and he's had to do it while dealing with the Cat King and Monty and watching Charles flirt with Crystal and struggle through his own rage, he's done it as quietly as he could, as if bringing it up out loud might ruin everything that he's worked so hard for. But now he's in Hell, again, now he's trying to get out, again. Edwin encountered the reason he was sent there in the first place, and found out what really happened. Edwin spent all those years thinking it was purely malice that got him sacrificed, only to find out it was just because Simon had a crush on him, and did an absurdly stupid thing thinking it was harmless. I think in that moment, Edwin realized how easy it is to misunderstand something - because clearly, Edwin had absolutely no idea that Simon liked him at all, until the moment he admitted it in Hell. And then Charles shows up. Charles came to save him, armed with a bomb, a Molotov cocktail, and Edwin's notebook with a map of hell on it. Charles came down, he listened to Edwin's directions, he ran behind him most of the time to make sure Edwin was going to get out. Charles was with him, saving him from one of the rooms, following him to the stairs and up. He stopped with him, even when they needed to keep going, Charles let him have a moment on the steps. Edwin is in shock, he cannot believe it. All these years, all these write offs, all these moments where Edwin genuinely didn't think he'd ever get out of Hell if he were to go back, believed that if they ever got caught by Death or anyone from the afterlife, he would be damned forever because who gives a shit about a technicality, who cares about the poor boy that was sacrificed and written off by the rest of the living. Edwin didn't know what else to do or say, the emotions he'd kept bottled up while he tried to figure them out were coming out one way or the other. "It's so fucking stupid, it's unbelievable." Edwin didn't think he deserved it, thought it was stupid to come down and save him, because who would do such a thing. Charles risked himself to come down to Hell to save Edwin. Edwin never thought he'd be worth it. And when Charles just shrugs it off a bit, reminds him that he was gonna do it, and he's so easy about it that Edwin just. Confesses. And corrects him, when Charles misunderstands for a second. Charles didn't think twice about "Great. Love you too. Can we go?" And he really didn't even hesitate to reassure Edwin when Edwin clarified what he meant, that they had forever to figure things out.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #okay i am pretty sure i derailed somewhere in here #ecause i'm only like 45% sure of what i wrote #i just kept writing #i have a LOT OF FEELINGS about Edwin and his use of the word fuck #and a lot more feelings about this show #so idk enjoy my ramblings about Edwin and emotion

[purple-obsidian]

Heyyyyy pookieeee-i saw your Jason todd fic and wanted to ask,what do you think he will be like teaching his gf how to drive?

(Because nobody in my freaking life taught me how to drive yet so I have to sit like a duck and wait for someone to pick me up when I wanna go somewhere pleaseeee let me drivee-)

be brave (jason todd x fem reader) wc 800

⭓ fluff isn't my normal cup of tea. but for you, pookie, i can make an exception ;) sorry this took a while to answer, hope you don't mind i made this specific to driving a motorcycle. that's just what felt right when i was meditating on this prompt so i went with it. enjoy.

"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You second guessing me, princess?"

"Yeah, maybe I am. I could kill us!"

Jason scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "You think I would let that happen? Ever?" With cocky grin, Jason walks over and stares down at you, noting the apprehension on your face. "Remember the day we met? You told me you had a bucket list. Things you wanted to do before you died."

"Yeah, I only told you that because I thought I was going to die. You rescued me. I got plenty of time now, I don't have to learn how to drive tonight. Its already dark." You reach your hand up reflexively to rest against his chest as he gets closer. Its a habit of yours. You always find yourself drawn to the steady beating of his heart. Its grounding, and you need some of that right now.

"The road is well lit. We're miles from the outskirts of Gotham, no traffic out here. Just you and me, baby. Why not now?" His large hand rests over yours, pressing it more firmly against his chest. His heart is beating slow and steady, and his piercing green eyes are filled with admiration. "You and I both know that every day we have together is precious. Why wait to do the things you wanna do? Besides, I'd feel better knowing my girl can drive my bike if she needs to."

Jason knows you too well, calling you his girl like that makes you feel weak in the knees. Your own heart beats faster as you break your gaze away from your boyfriend smiling down at you, looking over at the motorcycle he brought you here on. For some reason, it looks more intimidating than it did a few minutes ago. You swallow the lump in your throat before looking back at him. "I'm nervous."

"I know." He states matter-of-factly. Of course he knows, he can read you like a book.

"I've literally never driven anything before. Like ever. I haven't even-"

"Shhh." Jason's hand leaves yours and cups your face gently. His other hand is on your waist, keeping you close. "You don't have to be good at it right away. I don't expect you to be. But you're smart. And you're perceptive. And I know after a little practice, you'll get more confident. I won't let us crash, baby, promise."

Jason really does know you too well. He can see the rebuttal forming on your lips before he finishes speaking. So he leans down to kiss it away before you can verbally express your doubts. The tinge of frustration you feel at being cut off isn't enough to keep you mind from turning to mush from the kiss. His lips are so warm, his breath tastes like spearmint, and his touch gives you butterflies.

But the kiss ends all too quickly. You know he cut it short it on purpose, not wanting your brain to turn off completely before you try and drive for the first time. "Sorry, babygirl, can't give you too much. How could you drive if you're all drunk from my kisses? Hm?"

He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in how cute you look when you're speechless. A moment later, Jason releases his hold on you and turns towards his bike, walking to it with a bit of pep in his step and smugness in his grin, leaving you stammering for a second as you try and string together a coherent thought.

"F-fuck you, Jason." You say after a moment. He always knows how to shut me up.

"I love you too." He grabs his helmet and puts it on before tossing you yours. It's an easy catch, but you're still giving him a dirty look.

"Why did we have to do driving first?" You grumble, accepting your defeat. "Pretty sure seeing the pyramids was also on my bucket list. Along with an abundance of other fun things, like riding in a helicopter, or swimming with dolphins. Or what about joining the mile high club? I'd think that one would be your first priority."

Jason is beaming, watching you put your helmet on and get ready to ride. Even as you scowl at him and mutter complaints, his heart melts at how easily you folded. All it took was a kiss. He always gets his way. He knows you can't say no to him. Jason Todd has you wrapped around his finger, and the vigilante couldn't be any happier about it. He looks you up and down to admire your body before replying, "Stick with me, princess, and I'll make all your dreams come true." He promises. "One at a time. I'll show you the pyramids. I'll fuck you in a plane. But first…"

He grabs you by your waist with both hands and effortlessly lifts you up off the ground to set you down on the seat of his bike. You yelp in surprise, quickly grabbing his hands to steady yourself. "First, you gotta be brave and learn how to ride your boyfriend's bike."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

#purple-obsidian #dc comics #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #for lola #sids moots #sid answers #thanks for the ask!

[tossawary]

I'm thinking about "What if the main character did not have a secret, powerful family background and was just some random person?" AUs for different stories, because I personally find that situation more compelling most of the time and I think it introduces more interesting struggles. While thinking about a bunch of other stories, I ended up thinking about Aragorn in "Lord of the Rings".

Now, Aragorn is a special case because 1) I wouldn't really call him THE main character and the "noble" members of the Fellowship are well-contrasted by the hobbits. The hobbits may be mostly Shire gentry (except for Sam), but on the grand stage of Middle Earth, they're still unimpressive nobodies. Frodo is already our ordinary hero. 2) Aragorn's road to kingship comes with him struggling with his ancestor's failures and accepting the heavy burdens that come with being Isildur's heir. This is specifically an arc of a character struggling with their family history. I am absolutely not saying that Aragorn being royalty makes LOTR a bad story and that it would be better if he was just some random guy. I think this is a well-written character storyline that is a key feature of the overall story.

But I do think it would be really funny to write fanfiction where Aragorn wasn't Arathorn's son. (There is the issue of the heritage that makes Aragorn age slowly, but maybe you could wiggle that so that Aragorn has that kind of heritage from a different source?) Like, the line of Isildur has died out, and let's say that Aragorn's mother takes shelter in Rivendell with her son, and kid Aragorn ends up wandering around to the broken sword and picking up the handle. And either Aragorn's mother lies to Elrond about Aragorn being Arathorn's son or Elrond happens across kid Aragorn with the broken sword and thinks... "Hey, what if we just... lied about it?"

Now, this could end really badly! As I vaguely understand it, the Silmarillion (which I have not read) contains a bunch of examples where lying did not go well, so maybe this lie is how Middle Earth falls into chaos in this AU. Whoops.

But even though this breaks some plotlines, I'm a sucker for adoption storylines. I love adoption being treated as important. It's compelling to imagine Elrond and Aragorn's mother carefully explaining the situation with the sword to him, and then this child just... stubbornly deciding that he's going to become Isildur's heir. Maybe Aragorn's determination falters at some point, he gives up on the idea, and he later has to return to Elrond as an adult and persuade him that no, he means it this time, mankind isn't just about bloodlines, he's going to pick up this burden on behalf of all of humanity. I think that there's something powerful in a person deciding that no, I'm not of Isildur's blood, but I have his same potential for success and for failure, and I'm here. I'm fighting. I picked up the broken sword and that's good enough, isn't it? Who are you to say I'm not his heir? I'm HERE.

I think there's powerful magic in that too. (Also, Arathorn is dead and getting adopted as a father by some random kid. Sure. Okay. I think that's just funny.)

(Also, oh my, there is SO MUCH tragedy if Aragorn being Isildur's heir is a lie and Boromir died believing it. The GUILT. The GUILT that Aragorn would feel when Boromir says, "I would have followed you, my brother, my captain, my king." Like, oh man, now you HAVE TO make it true.)

Now, maybe Aragorn doesn't become King of Gondor in this AU or maybe he does. Maybe Faramir becomes king instead. Maybe it becomes well known by the end of the journey that Aragorn isn't a blood descendant of Isildur and maybe it's a secret known only to the Fellowship. I'd like to think that he still marries Arwen. I like the idea of Arwen happily and knowingly marrying some nobody lying about his heritage and Elrond internally being like, "This is kind of on me."

The most important thing here is that it would be so fucking funny if Aragorn (and Elrond and Gandalf and Galadriel) successfully lied to Sauron the Deceiver. Sauron's like, "Oh? A secret heir come out of hiding to fight against me? Sounds legit." And at some point near the end, just before some hobbits chuck a ring into a volcano behind his back, Sauron is looking at Aragorn like, "Wait a minute, what the fuck, you lying little SHIT."

(Or Sauron finds out via Pippin that Aragorn is lying and feels SO SMUG about how he's going to crush a false king, which just adds to Aragorn's whole "made you look!" distraction keeping Sauron from noticing the hobbits sneaking into Mount Doom.)

#tossawary tolkien #fic ideas #aragorn #elrond #long post #spoilers #make the main character a rando au

[gabessquishytum]

some dom/sub stuff because why not <3

Hob was never all that sexually adventurous for [insert reasons here] and could probably be considered a bit... repressed, for an immortal his age. His current, modern era friends say he's vanilla, whatever that means. He refuses to look it up. He's fine, really :) :) :)

He just goes through periods- sometimes weeks, or months, or years- feeling something he can't name. Before, he would fight, box, whatever was available in that era to get it out of his system. And it was always gone before he saw his Stranger again.

But now his Stranger is back and Hob's already started to feel that itch and hasn't had the chance to find a new outlet yet.

Dream, though... Dream knows what he's looking at. And what he needs. He sees a poor little submissive in need of a firm, but gentle, hand- and a good fucking.

Well, Dream is going to be that hand. He refuses to even think of anyone else touching Hob like that.

He's already mentally designing Hob's future collar while he plans his seduction <3 <3 <3

I have so many feelings about repressed sub!Hob omg.

Like. He goes to the underground boxing club and fights and maybe even deliberately gets beat up. Or he works and works and works and doesn't sleep because he needs his brain to be full of something, but all it does is make him physically collapse. He doesn't know it but he basically has regular sub drops because he has no idea how to handle what he's feeling.

But Dream knows, and when he witnesses Hob’s first drop after their reunion, Dream takes action. He grabs Hob by the collar of his shirt (it'll have to do for now) and drags him off to the bedroom.

Dream orders Hob to strip and kneel and Hob does it without even questioning it. His eyes are wide, his heart is racing. He doesn't know what's happening to him. Next thing, Dream is just stroking and petting him all over, telling him that he's a good boy and that everything will be okay. At this point, Hob begins to drift... as his mind and body have longed to do, for so many years.

Dream doesn't fuck him that night. He washes Hob in a warm, lavender scented bath. Wraps him in a towel, and feeds him chocolate chip cookies by hand. He keeps his hand wrapped carefully around the back of Hob’s neck, like a temporary collar. Hob is in a state of bliss, meanwhile. He's still totally confused, but that doesn't really bother him. He feels safe.

In the dreaming, Dream sternly scolds Hob for neglecting himself. He states his intention: he will take care of Hob from now on. Dream won't let him suffer alone ever again. Hob protests (still shy and confused), but inside him there's a sub so eager to obey and give in. He just can't help himself.

Imagine how good it feels to be owned and fucked and loved after nearly 700 years of need. Hob rendered speechless, floating in a cloud of total bliss. Dream is gentle with him - it's not whips and chains (yet) but it is firmness, dominance, love. Hob feels complete. He's never been more sure: he wants to live forever, with Dream’s collar around his neck.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #bratty hob

[flavored-soda]

i know just how much you love it

Rating: R (explicit 18+) minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, pwp

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: BuckTommy/Tevan/Kinley

Summary: Buck is brat. Plain and simple. So when Buck decides to play dirty when they go out to a bar, Tommy fucks him in the parking lot to remind him of his place.

read on ao3 | as always, heed the tags and warnings |

Evan being a brat was not exactly a new experience for Tommy. In fact, it was becoming a regular thing the more their relationship progressed.

It started with snippy remarks, almost complimenting Tommy’s own dry sense of humor. It quickly moved to teasing touches, working Tommy up just enough before pulling away and acting like nothing happened. Smaller things that the younger knew that Tommy loved, like wearing shorter shorts, walking around the loft or the house shirtless, even licking and biting his lips when he knew Tommy was watching him. When Tommy finally realized what exactly Evan was after, he sat him down and forced him to use his words, making the younger describe in detail what exactly he wanted and how he wanted it. 

Tommy considered it his own form of teasing, watching Evan squirm while he spoke about his dirtiest fantasies and desires. Encouraging him to keep talking as Tommy listened intently, taking ideas and suggestions to save for later. The more he heard the more he found that he and Evan had quite a few things when it came to those fantasies and desires.

Though, ever since that conversation, Evan seemed to be making it his personal goal just how much bratting he could get away with.

And don’t get him wrong, Tommy loved that his boyfriend was opening up more and really getting settled into this dynamic part of the relationship. But it was moments like these that were really starting to drive him up a fucking wall.

It’s not that he was jealous. He wouldn’t call himself jealous. Or possessive. For the most part, Tommy doesn’t get jealous. He knows that Evan is it for him and he is it for Evan. The most “jealous” that Tommy has ever gotten is when Evan is trying to elicit a reaction from the older man, so Tommy gives it to him, but it’s all just acting. He’s never actually jealous. It’s all just build up for some rough and hot sex. And Tommy has never once felt that jealousy or possessiveness because Evan has never given him a reason too. The blonde always comes home to him with a smile on his face and that's all Tommy can ask for, all that he really needs.

But now? Oh, right now, Tommy is feeling more than a little bit jealous.

Now, he wants nothing more than to saunter up to his boyfriend, wrap an arm around his waist, and pull him close to his body with a shit-eating grin on his face. Now, he wants to go over there and kiss him hard, pull away with the younger’s bottom lip still between his teeth, hear him whimper like he always does when he wants more. Fuck, he wants to bend him over a table and fuck him for the whole bar to watch, laughing as he does it because he knows only he can make Evan feel that damn good.

It’s a new and terrifying thing that only seems to fester the more he watches his boyfriend. It only starts to truly burn and bubble under his skin when Evan moves the smallest bit forward.

The younger man is currently laughing, leaning into some guy’s space as he opens his mouth to speak again. Evan is putting in the work, batting his eyelashes, throwing his head back when he laughs, and giving that dorky, dopey smile when he finishes it all only to start it back up again. The guy is inviting Evan to lean in, asking him to move in closer. He moves his arms to the table next to where Evan’s are resting, caging him in but not touching him. 

God, Tommy hopes he touches him. 

He’s basically begging for it with the ways he’s watching the two of them. He probably looks like a madman to the bartender, hell, probably to anyone in his eye line. He feels like a predator, watching his unassuming prey play before he strikes. Only, Evan knows that he’s watching, knows that Tommy is staring, hoping, wishing, waiting for this other guy to make a move on him. And it’s driving Tommy so insane he can almost taste it. 

He wants that excuse, that reason to pounce over there and stake his claim. He wants to snake his arm around his big, buff boyfriend’s waist, pull him into his side so fast and hard that he jostles, showing off his strength and force. And it wouldn’t even be a show for this guy. 

It wouldn’t be a display of jealousy, of dominance, no, it would be a show he’s putting on for Evan. A little part in this game they’re playing. Because the thing is, Tommy doesn’t blame Evan. The guy he’s flirting with is handsome. He’s got longer hair, it reaches his shoulders but it’s neat and styled, and the outfit he’s wearing shows off just enough that it could leave anyone wanting to know more. Tommy sees the appeal, he really does, but Evan is prettier, more appealing. 

Evan is the one he’s watching. 

The one he can’t take his eyes off of. 

He’s the one that’s got Tommy craving more. 

Evan shifts to lean in further across the table. Tommy’s fingers flex around his drink. He can feel his teeth grinding together in anticipation. From here, Tommy can’t see Evan’s eyes but he swears that he flicks them down in a quick glance to the other guy’s lips. The guy leans in closer, stops for a second before angling his head to say something into Evan’s ear. But he still doesn’t touch him. 

There’s that bubbling under his skin. He can feel himself twitch involuntarily. Tommy feels like he’s going to explode. He’s half tempted to go over there without any kind of signal from Evan. It’s against the rules, disrupts the plan, but he really doesn’t care right now. He’s less concerned with scripts that they had written in their heads and more concerned with how he can get his hands and mouth on his boyfriend. Against his better judgment, he stays put and starts bouncing his leg in order to help him calm down.

Evan pulls back cocking his head before letting something slip past those pretty, perfect lips. The guy smirks and one of his arms moves up, his hand lands on Evan’s bicep and Tommy is up.

He’s not sure what happens after that. One moment, he’s sitting at the bar, staring holes into his boyfriend’s head and the next he’s right behind, wrapping his arm around waist and tugging him back against him. Evan goes willingly, leaning back to rest his head against Tommy’s shoulder. The entire expanse of his neck is on display and Tommy’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, never taking his eyes off of it.

“Hi, baby.” He says. 

Evan is looking at the guy through his lashes, one hand on his beer and one on the arm around his middle. He’s rocking slightly, sinking further and further into Tommy and the older man just lets him. He widens his stance ever-so-slightly, careful not to disturb the blonde as he takes more of his weight.

“Hi.” He responds, flicking his eyes up to Tommy for a moment before looking back at the guy he was flirting with.

“Who’s this?” His eyes are still on Evan, watching his boyfriend’s throat bob as he swallows.

“Myles.”

“Mason.” The guy, Mason, corrects with a scoff. 

Neither Tommy or Evan are really paying attention to him. He served his purpose with them. Evan falling back in Tommy’s thrall and Tommy enjoying the process of reeling him back in. 

Evan’s eyes go back to gaze into Tommy’s and Tommy drags his own eyes up his boyfriend’s body to meet him there. Once they lock onto each other, they stay there. Tommy sees Evan’s lips part and his tongue out to wet his lips from his peripheral and it takes everything in him to not take his eyes off Evan’s. 

This is the second part of the game. The part where they see who breaks first. It’s usually always Tommy. He’s so worked up at this point that he has no choice but to give into his desires. Licking his way into his boyfriend’s mouth, his tongue exploring inch and crevice like it hasn’t before. He’ll swallow down Evan’s moans and whimpers before pulling away with a smirk. Evan’s eyes will still be closed, lips still parted, and he’ll pull his bottom lip in between his teeth before rolling off Tommy’s shoulder. He’ll look up to fix him, hands either on his shoulders or hips, still swaying. When he opens his eyes more, they’ll focus straight on Tommy’s lips and Tommy will push in until he’s almost eating the younger man whole. He’ll push Evan into the table, they’ll feel it rock slightly and Evan will reach his hand back to steady it and himself. When they pull away, Tommy will suggest they go home and Evan will gladly follow. 

But tonight, Evan pushed in, wasting no time in licking his way into the older man’s mouth with a fever. He twists himself in Tommy’s hold, changing the angle so he’s face to face with his boyfriend. He grabs onto the lapels on Tommy’s shirt and pulls him closer. One of Tommy’s hands moves to steady himself on the table and the other goes up Evan’s back, snaking it into his hair. He digs his fingers in right above the base of the blonde’s neck before giving a sharp tug. 

Evan gives a whimper as Tommy holds his head back. Tommy smirks, using his grip to maneuver Evan’s head around. The younger sinks into it, his grip on Tommy’s shirt slipping away to steady himself back on the table. 

“Tommy, please.” He gasps out. 

Tommy looks down at him, admiring his work.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Another rule, make Evan admit to what he wants.

He rolls the younger’s head around a few more times. His other hand has moved away from the table and onto his boyfriend’s hips. He’s holding Evan’s hips close to his, firm in making sure they stay where he wants them.

“Please, please…” Evan swallows, “Please, Daddy.”

Oh, this little shit. He thinks before pulling him into a searing kiss. 

Evan can barely keep up. It ends up being more of Tommy shoving his way into Evan’s mouth, licking, biting, and sucking. He lets out little whimpers and moans that only egg the older man on. He’s swallowing them all down, careful not to miss a single one. If he focuses on them he swears he can taste them, all sweet and tart, just like his boyfriend. 

Evan is pushing against him, using the table as leverage, attempting to move his hips in a circle. If Tommy looks down he’s sure he’ll see the beginning of a small wet patch forming on the blonde’s pants. The thought of just how wet his boyfriend gets driving him further into this madness he’s been fading in and out of all night.

He pulls away with Evan’s bottom lip still between his teeth. His eyes open to see Evan’s rolled back into his head. He gives a small tug, sinking his teeth further into Evan’s lip. The younger lets out another whimper before Tommy drags his teeth off with a pop. He looks down at his handy work. Evan’s eyes still rolled back, a blush high on cheek, and his bottom lip now swollen and bright red. He smirks to himself as Evan’s eyes come back to meet Tommy’s. 

“Say it again, baby.” He whispers. 

Evan moans again.

“Please, Daddy.” He says in a rushed and hushed voice.

Tommy smirks again.

“Please, what?” He punctuates the question with another sharp tug on Evan’s hair.

It takes the younger a second to collect himself. His eyes rolled back again when Tommy gave another tug to his hair and he ran his tongue over the inside of his bottom lip softly. Tommy wondered if he was bleeding a little bit. He wanted to know if he could taste the metallic twang of blood if he pushed in for another kiss. He wanted to lick into his mouth, gathering up the new taste of Evan and Evan’s blood. But he restrained himself, waited for Evan to answer before he gave him any kind of reward.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, please, Daddy.”

Fuck, this kid was going to be the death of him.

He pulled away, his hand slipping from Evan’s hair and the younger man whimpering in response to the loss. It trailed down to Evan’s hip, using the new found grip to move his boyfriend where he needed him. He spun him around, pushing him gently to get him to move. He watched the faces of the people they pushed past, drinking in their reaction to just how wrecked Evan was and how he was the one that was responsible. He knew Evan was reveling in all the attention. The looks on everyone’s face as Tommy staked his claim, he loved it like the attention whore he was.

“Look at them, baby. All looking at you, saving this image of you in their minds. You’re like porn on a stick.” He watched Evan’s shoulder jump as he gasped, no doubt letting out another little whimper. 

They pushed their way to the doors, Tommy starting to guide him to the car before Evan pushed back hard. He turned, walking the older man back into the wall of the bar. The younger’s hands were fisted in Tommy’s shirt again. He was using the grip to keep his boyfriend caged against him and the wall. Tommy’s hands never leaving Evan’s hips. He could feel the brick of the wall starting to lift his shirt as the younger man pinned him further against the wall. He was pushing into the kiss Evan had initiated, fighting for dominance.

“Do it here.” He whispered into the kiss.

Tommy didn't have a chance to respond with kiss after kiss pushing him further into the wall. His lips being assaulted with those of his boyfriend’s. He licked into Evan’s mouth, using his tongue to pull Evan’s lip into his mouth once again. The younger eased his grip, the move never failing to turn him to jelly. Tommy took the opportunity to take back control. 

His hands on Evan’s hips gripped tight and pushed back, effectively pushing himself off the wall. He gripped onto Evan’s forearm, pulling him in for one more rough kiss before starting to walk towards the truck. Evan stumbled along after him, giving up on the attempts to take over.

They parked towards the back of the parking lot in case they had to leave the truck here overnight. Tommy’s hand slipped from Evan’s forearm to his hand, interlocking their fingers as he pushed towards the vehicle. 

He shoved his hand into his jean pocket, reaching in to grab his keys. He fumbled them in one hand, almost dropping them as he dragged his boyfriend along. He saw the tail lights light up and it only fueled the fire under his feet. When he felt he was close enough he turned to face the blonde, grabbing onto his biceps and slamming him against the back of the truck. Evan let out a shocked gasp and then they were kissing again.

The older man’s hands went back to their place on Evan’s hips. The hold he had on them would surely force a mold of Tommy’s hands into the skin, a permanent resting place for his hands and only his hands. A type of claim he could only dream of staking on his boyfriend. 

He let his fingers pull Evan’s shirt up just enough for him to sneak his fingers underneath it. His fingertips ghosted over his lower waist and hips as he worked his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and boxers. He rubbed a pattern into the skin, pressing harder so there was a potential there would be small bruises for the next couple of days. Evan squirmed under his touch, pushing back against Tommy. He caught the hint and pulled back, giving Evan a chance to breathe.

“Just…do it here.” The younger huffed out again before going to push in.

Tommy stopped him, finally registering what he was saying. He turned his gaze to Evan’s face, looking for any sign of hesitancy. He smirked when he found none.

He pulled Evan into him, taking one hand off of one of the younger’s hips, going to fiddle with his keys again. He heard the little click of his truck unlocking, he pushed Evan back again, sticking out the hand with his keys to catch the latch on his truck bed. He pulled it down, pushing his boyfriend with him as he maneuvered around. He pushed Evan pack into the truck once more, his grip on the blonde’s hips turning into a soft touch. He smiled down at his lover once more before turning his handle on him back to rough and pressing in for another harsh kiss. He pulled away with Evan’s lip in between his teeth again. He smirked and only let go when Evan let out a whimper. 

“Yeah, baby? You want me to fuck you right here?” He leaned closer, ghosting his lips over Evan’s neck. “In the bed of my truck, where anyone who leaves that bar can see you?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” 

Tommy loosened his grip just a tiny bit, pulled back just enough to glance up at his boyfriend.

“Just please, baby?”

Evan whimpered again.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me right here. Please, please, please…” He trailed off in a sea of begging. 

Tommy smirked again. He loved having this initiate power of his lover. He loved that he could turn him into a blubbering mess with a few choice words and touches. It sent a certain kind of rush through him every time he realized just how much he had an effect on Evan. The rush would hit him again every time he realized that Evan had that same effect on him and he knew it too. All the little switches and buttons that Tommy had discovered for Evan, the younger also discovered for Tommy. The result was moments like these where Tommy was pulling out every trick in the book to keep Evan a begging slut while Evan put it on thick, using every little thing that Tommy loved about him for evil. 

Tommy had pressed them together as soon as the tailgate was down. Evan was now using what leverage the truck gave him to grind into Tommy, pressing their clothed cocks together. Tommy let out a groan at the new sensation, pulling away from his assault on his boyfriend’s lips so he could look down at the sight. Sure enough, there was a wet spot on Evan’s jeans that was only growing by the minute. 

“Look at you, baby. Making us feel so good.” He breathed in Evan’s ear. 

He moved his former assault to Evan’s neck, careful not to leave any hickeys (at least above the collar of his shirt). He gave soft kisses and light suckles, licking long stripes up the expanse of his boyfriend’s neck before blowing on them gently and watching the younger squirm beneath the sensation. 

“Tommy, please.” 

“What, baby? What can Daddy do for you, huh?” He whispered again, watching a jolt go through Evan’s body at the words.

“I need you to fuck me.” His voice was quiet and hoarse as he spoke softly, if they were home Tommy would make sure it stayed that way into tomorrow. 

“Speak up, sweetie.” He said a little louder than a normal volume.

“Fuck me.” Evan’s hands went to Tommy’s hips, set on his zipper. 

Tommy grabbed him before he could get much further. He held both of Evan’s wrist in a tight grip in one hand and leaned to place his other on the truck bed, caging his lover in.

“Is that how we ask for things?” 

Evan shook his head in response.

“No, it’s not. That’s good, love. So, do you want to try that again?” 

Evan nodded.

“Good.” Tommy leaned back. “What can Daddy do for you, baby?”

“Fuck me, please, Daddy, please.” 

Tommy gave him a soft smile. 

He moved a hand to grope at Evan’s back pocket, smiling when he felt his wallet in there and reaching in to grab it. He opened it to find the condom and packet of lube that Evan always carried with him. He held the two between his fingers as he yanked Evan’s pants down without a second thought. Then he flipped him around, laying a hand between his shoulder blades to push him down against the truck bed. Evan whimpered and squirmed as the coldness of the vehicle came in contact with his bare skin.

Tommy used his hips to pin Evan’s to his spot, pushing his hips, and therefore his cock, further against the exterior of the vehicle. He gasped and let out a moan in response. Tommy opened the lube packet, squirting some onto his fingers before he slipped them between his boyfriend’s cheeks. He circled the rim of Evan’s entrance and watched him as he squirmed some more. Little “please, Daddy, please’s” were spilling from his lips. He was speaking at a normal volume, just loud enough for certain words to almost echo off the truck and the cars around it. 

He pushed in with two fingers, immediately crooking them and exploring his boyfriend’s hole. He wasn’t too worried about the prep, Evan was always prepped for scenes like this. He was such a good little slut, Tommy would have to reward him later for the preparedness so far. 

The younger was currently a writhing mess under his boyfriend, thrusting and grinding into the truck bed to get some action on his cock. As soon as Tommy saw it he grabbed one of his hips in a firm grip.

“You know the rules, Evan.” He said as he worked his fingers further into his lover.

“S-Sorry, Dadd-” He was cut off with a moan as Tommy pressed into the wonderful little bundle of nerves.

It wasn’t long before he was drilling into that spot, over and over again. Evan was a mess below him, splayed out against the truck bed begging Tommy for more. He had gotten three fingers worked into him, nice and slow, with all the focus on his prostate but never for long enough. Tommy let out an evil little chuckle when Evan whined at the loss of the fingers. 

“I know, baby. I got you.”

He took the condom hold of the package with his teeth, holding it there while he rolled it on his length and applied the rest of the lube. He spread Evan’s ass open and thumbed over his hole.

“Tommy…Daddy…please…” That was all Tommy needed for him to slip in. 

He opted to sink in all in one go, having fucked his slut earlier in the day and know he could take it. The reaction from Evan was something Tommy wanted to play on repeat every chance he could. He took a sharp breath in before exhaling it in shaking, breathy moans. His head was turned to the side and from this angle, Tommy could see his eyes flutter close. He found his grip on the younger’s hips again and slowly held Evan in place while he slowly pulled out. He waited for a little wiggle of the blonde’s hips before he slammed back in. He was setting the pace that Evan liked, slower and harder. 

Evan’s little noises were bouncing off the truck bed and across the very few cars around them. He only got louder when Tommy would pick up his speed, drilling into his boyfriend. The older man smirked to himself. He was so lucky to have this beautiful specimen of a man as his. The way he looked and sounded while Tommy was fucking his brains was his new favorite song. He changed his hold on Evan’s hips, shifting and lifting until his boyfriend clenched down on him.

“Fuck, yeah, Evan? Does my cock feel good fucking into you?” He groaned out, letting his composure and character crack a bit. 

“Uh-huh” The younger one did his best to nod with his head against the truck. Tommy swore he could see some drool escaping his mouth.

He continued to fuck into his lover at a rapid pace. He aimed for Evan’s prostate every time and was pretty damn accurate based on the noises being made. He took a second to take in the sight in front of him. Evan was splayed out on the truck bed, arms relaxed near his head, letting himself be pushed further up the bed with every thrust. He was letting little moans and gasps escape his lips, occasionally trying to form a word and losing it when Tommy would thrust back in. It was only fueling Tommy’s own desire. The thought that he could reduce this beefcake of a man down to a whimpering, moaning mess, begging him to come was like a wet dream come true. 

Evan started to sloppily try to move back to meet Tommy’s thrust, the harsh grip the older man had on his hips starting to guide him into it. Tommy couldn’t wait to see those bruises tomorrow. He loved when there was evidence of his handy work. It was like he was giving himself a guide for next time, leaving little breadcrumbs to remind himself just exactly how he made his boyfriend tick. 

“Close.” Evan stuttered out through moans and gasps.

Tommy took that as permission to adjust the younger’s hips again. He lifted him slightly, adjusting his own angle before pulling out only to slam back in again. The older man opted for short and quick thrusts, focusing on hitting that little bundle of nerves inside the younger. Evan had gone silent, mouth hanging open and eyes half-lidded as Tommy worked him towards an orgasm.

“Touch yourself for me, baby.” Tommy said, never letting up on his assault on Evan’s prostate. 

The blonde moaned and Tommy smirked. This was his favorite part, bringing Evan right to the edge only to pull it all away until he could form enough words to ask if he could cum. It almost always ended in Tommy walking that edge with him, but he wouldn’t allow either of them to cum until Evan asked. It was another rule, another part of their little game. 

Fuck, he could feel Evan clenching around him. He wasn’t going to last much longer, himself.

“Come on, love.”

Evan took the hint, squirming underneath and trying to get his lips to move. He would get about half way through his question before it would get lost in a sea of moans. Tommy could see how close he was, how hard he was trying to be a good boy and wait until he got permission. The arm that had moved off the bed so he could fuck into his fist had stopped moving and Tommy knew it was so the blonde could squeeze the base of his cock. Evan was never very good at holding off his climax on his own, and god dammit, if he wasn’t going to pack one of Evan’s cock rings next time.

“Tommy, please.” 

“Use your words, Evan.” He gave a particularly harsh thrust, but ultimately slowed his pace. “Please, what?”

“Can I come?” The last word was broken off with a sharp intake of breath. “Daddy, please.”

That was all he needed. He picked his pace back up, less concerned with getting Evan to reach his release and more concerned with reaching his own. He saw Evan’s arm start to move again, the permission was all he needed to chase after his own orgasm. The result was both of them getting sloppy in their movements.

Evan came first. He gave a loud moan that was quickly cut off when Tommy gave one of the last few of his thrusts. 

Tommy wasn’t far behind him, his hips stalling as he spilled into the condom.

“Fuck, Evan.” He groaned out through gritted teeth as he did.

The two stayed there for a minute, catching their breaths and coming down from their respective highs. Evan wiggled again, the silent cue that he was ready for them to move. Tommy slowly began to pull out, detaching from one another with an obscene pop. The blonde whimpered at the loss. 

Tommy took one hand off the younger man’s hips, placing it on the edge of the truck bed. He used his other hand to help turn his boyfriend over. Evan helped a little by pushing himself up and into his boyfriend. He made a kissy face and the older man smiled before leaning in. This kiss being the least heated and softest of the night so far. 

“Hi, baby.” He murmured against Evan’s lips.

The younger one smiled and let out a laugh.

“Hi.”

They leaned in for another and another and just one more before Tommy pulled further back and decided it was time to clean up. He took off the condom, tying it and throwing it into his truck bed to clean out later. Then he put himself back into his own underwear and jeans just before shoving a hand into his front pocket to fish out a couple of tissues and a wet wipe. He used both to clean up his boyfriend, tossing them into the truck bed when he was finished, and then helping Evan into his own pants. 

Once they were situated Tommy placed both his hands on Evan’s hips for the last time. He used the leverage to pull the blonde closer to him and off the truck bed so he could shut the tailgate. Evan took the opportunity to steal a couple more kisses. Tommy smiled into every single one of them. He was so gone for this man.

He walked them backwards towards the passenger side, opening the door for the younger and helping him in. Evan, once again, using every chance he could to steal another kiss from Tommy’s lips. The older man happily obliged before letting go of the younger’s hand and shutting the door.

He heard a noise as he walked back around to the driver's side. He looked towards the bar entrance to see Myles? Michael? Whatever his name was exiting the bar in a similar fashion to Evan and Tommy earlier. He smirked to himself, letting out a chuckle before going back to his truck so he could take his boyfriend home.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 on abc #911 #tevan #kinley #firepilot #buck and tommy #kinley fic #tevan fic #bucktommy fanfic #bucktommy fic #buck x tommy #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 smut #tevan smut #kinley smut #bucktommy smut

[theferrarieffect]

snickerdoodles, chapter 3: drifting apart, keeping in touch, a bar near-miss and a senior year surprise (4.9k words)

previous chapter here!

warnings: a bit more angst followed by fluff, the slowest burn (sorry)

chapter 3: let them eat macarons (or cake)

The cookies sit heavy in your bag, straps digging into your shoulder, while the foam of the orange headphones that have been on your head for more than an hour now squeeze your temples uncomfortably. But you don’t notice either of those things, because your eyes are glued to the monitors showing everyone’s track position, and your heart hammers in your chest not unlike the way it does when the anesthetist announces there’s five minutes to go before rewarming.

Oscar tries to negotiate Lewis in Turn 15, but even you can see that Hamilton pulls a dirty defensive move, squeezing Oscar dangerously close to the wall. The radio beeps.

“Man, Hamilton is trying to kill someone today.”

A chill runs down your spine. When you streamed the races from the comfort of your own couch, you hadn’t realized, really, exactly how fast these drivers go. But watching and hearing them take sharp corners at the speeds you take your car on the motorway when you’re hurrying to the hospital…Oscar’s right. He could kill someone. Literally.

There’s no way you could work for motorsport, at least not in a capacity where you have to come to all the races. But then, you feel a crazy compulsion to come, as if you need to be there, need to make sure nothing bad happens to him.

Lewis attempts to chase Lando down, but Lando, daring and hot-headed, doesn’t budge, and you cheer internally for the papaya team. Look at yourself. Already biased, already fangirling.

“Okay, Oscar,” Tom says into the radio. “You are within DRS, you can push, last lap.”

Your nails dig crescents into your palms.

Oscar edges the car near Lewis, tries to take the inside line…

…and Lewis swings wide, retaining his lead. Oscar crosses the line not half a second behind, P4.

You sigh with relief as he slows on his way into the pit lane.

“Okay, good job Oscar, P4, P4,” Tom tells him.

“Fuck,” Oscar’s voice crackles through the radio. “I’m sorry guys. Fuck.” True to Oscar form, even in rage, he sounds downright placid.

“No worries, Oscar, it was a tight race. Good drive. Lando P2.”

A heavy sigh. “Well, congrats to Lando at least. Good for the team.”

When Oscar extricates himself from the car and walks over into the paddock, you’re waiting for him. He pulls off his helmet, then the balaclava underneath. His brown waves point in every direction, matted with sweat, but his frown melts as soon as he sees you.

“I’m gross—” he warns, but you’ve already pulled him into a tight hug.

“Congrats,” you whisper into the rough fabric of his suit.

“This wasn’t the race I wanted you to see,” Oscar says, dully.

You pull away, but move your hands from his back, holding him by his biceps. “It was the one I got to see. You’re incredible. It’s like you become a different person out there, you know that? You’re just so…in your element.”

Oscar chuckles. “Too bad the second the suit comes off, I’m the dorky bloke who likes cookies way too much.”

“Funny you should mention,” you say, reaching into your bag, producing the snickerdoodles you’d gotten up to bake at the crack of dawn with a flourish.

You swear Oscar’s eyes just light up, and he pulls you close to him again.

The paddock is much more relaxed after the race, more disorganized. Papaya mixes with navy which mixes with scarlet, green, pink; you shake many hands attached to many people you’ll never remember, all the while searching for Oscar, even though you know he’s probably tied up with press. Luckily, Logan makes a beeline for you and herds you around, introducing you to more of the guys on the grid.

“Oscar’s being held hostage by Sky Sports,” he says with a grimace.

You grin. “I figured.”

Charles, equally as beautiful as his teammate—does Ferrari hire drivers or models?—presents you with a tiny, squirming golden puppy. “His name is Leo,” he beams, waving a diminutive paw. “Say hi, Leo.”

You nearly melt, stroking Leo’s head gently with two fingers, which is about the most you’re willing to do with a creature that miniscule.

“Ay, cabrón,” Carlos practically shoves Charles out of the way. “That dog is just his excuse to flirt.”

Logan rolls his eyes, stunningly reminiscent of Oscar.

Fortunately, only the Ferrari boys seem hungry for your attention. Pierre actually apologizes for Charles’ antics—”he ees so desperate”—oblivious to Yuki yanking one of his shoelaces and bounding away. Fernando fulfills your plea to witness one of his famous celebratory dances as Checo and Max roar with laughter. And you’re pleased to be able to tesitfy that Danny Ric’s smile is as blinding as they say it is.

“How’s trauma service treating you?” Logan asks conversationally as you walk back towards the McLaren motorhome.

You shrug. “It’s alright—” Huh. “Wait, how do you know I’m in surgery?”

Logan reddens, as if he’s accidentally revealed classified information. “Ah—well, I mean, Oscar talks about you a lot.”

Talks about you so much that Logan knows what department you’re currently rotating through?

As if he read your mind, Logan straightens up, clears his throat. “Suppose you weren’t aware.”

“Aware of what?”

“Of how…invested Oscar is. In your life. In you.”

Your heart begins to pound. “I mean, we’re good friends.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Nothing more?”

You shake your head, lips pursed.

He looks thoughtful. “What?” you demand.

“Well…nothing.” He notices your suspicious frown. “Okay, well, the way he talks about you, you’d think the guy’s a little nuts about you. Like, he’s not exactly the most chatty dude on the grid, but I swear if someone mentions a TV show, it’s suddenly your favorite show. And we’ve all learned not to ever bring up anything medical, or else we’re about to hear a whole ass lecture on how cool you are, how you’re a real doctor. And don’t even get me started on cookies, or cakes, or come to think of it, baking in general…”

You don’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or crawl into a cave and never come out. But now it’s Logan’s turn to appraise you shrewdly. “So…are you interested in him?”

Well, the cave option sounds pretty good now.

“No! I mean—I don’t—we’re just not like that,” you stumble clumsily. Is Logan Sargeant really interrogating you about your love life right now? “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for ages—”

Before you can continue to dig yourself an even deeper grave, Oscar mercifully emerges from the motorhome’s front doors. “Hey.” He nods at Logan. “Thanks for babysitting her.”

“Hey, I didn’t need babysitting—” you say, and then see the faintest whisper of a smirk on his face. You give him a playful jab in the side with your elbow.

“I don’t know,” Logan says innocently, “by the way you were wandering around, looking like a lost sheep…”

Oscar laughs, really laughs, and then you know Logan’s actually his friend, even off the track. That laugh is sunshine. That laugh is the crest of a wave on the Australian beach.

“Let me guess,” Logan says. “Lando’s already drunk.”

“He’s halfway to the bars in London,” Oscar chuckles.

“When are you heading to?”

Oscar glances at you, then back at Logan. “Actually, I was thinking of sitting this one out?”

“What?” you say. “Why? You should go celebrate. It’s an off week next week too.”

“You on nights this week?” Oscar turns to face you.

“Yeah, although I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you retort.

Oscar hums. “Welllllll…hypothetically, it’d be good for you to be staying up late, right? To prepare.”

You have to laugh at that. “Are you saying you want me to go to your team’s afterparty?”

Logan says nothing, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you, an infuriatingly knowing smile plastered on his face.

You imagine taking a few tequila shots—something you haven’t done since uni, really—and jumping up and down on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. Logan’s eyes search your face imploringly.

“I guess I could go,” you say hesitantly. Oscar brightens. “But I’m not staying late, or going crazy. That’s all on you.”

“Deal,” Oscar says.

“Deal,” Logan smirks.

You’re not sure what you’ve just signed up for.

~

“Sweetie,” your mom says one day, “the almond flour’s about to go bad. Weren’t you going to make macarons?”

Yeah, with him, you think bitterly. “I guess so. Haven’t been baking much recently.”

“Not as fun without Oscar, huh?” your mom’s voice softens. You try hard to fight back tears, even though it’s been nearly a year since he packed his bags and left for London. You shake your head.

“Well…Nicole was asking about you. I think she misses seeing you too, honestly.”

Nicole? Oh. Mrs. Piastri—Oscar’s mom. You sigh, remembering all the times you’d walked over to his house together, balancing plates wrapped loosely in clingfilm, Tupperwares full of baked goods. Oscar’s little sisters crowding around you while you watched TV on the couch, begging you to let them braid your long, thick hair, which had reached nearly to your waist. You tug on the newly short, barely-skimming-the-collarbone ends now—another thing, you think, Oscar wouldn’t recognize.

“S’pose I could bring her some macarons,” you mumble, and your mom smiles.

It’s not as fun without Oscar, of course, but you get the job done, and forego the drive in favor of a walk. A perfect March day in Melbourne—crisp, cool, and dripping in autumn foliage. London must be cold and rainy. It certainly is today; you check the weather there before here every morning without fail.

Oscar’s mom answers the door almost right away—your mom must have given her a heads-up about your impending arrival—and immediately scoops you up into a hug. “You’re all grown up!” she cries, and you feel a wave of guilt, remembering your mom telling you that she’d noticed your relative disappearance. But Mrs. Piastri waves you through the door as if no time has passed at all. A picture of Oscar, no more than ten or eleven, beaming in a tiny racing suit and perched on top of a kart, stands on the mantle. It’s been there forever. You realize why you’ve been avoiding baking, avoiding going to see Oscar’s family—because they’re just more reminders of the fact that Oscar himself isn’t here.

Mrs. Piastri gushes over the macarons, calls Oscar’s sisters down to enjoy the bounty, and your chest aches a bit at how much you’d missed this.

“What happened to your hair?” the youngest one whines. You smile apologetically, tell her you’d chopped it off for track.

Then Oscar’s mom asks about your senior year, college applications, and you swallow. Actually, you’d applied in Year 11, having frontloaded an obscene number of classes, done pretty much nothing but study and build up your résumé and get applications together. Honestly, it’d been a pretty good distraction from…well, other things.

You remember how, right at the beginning of term this year, you’d squeezed your eyes shut as you clicked the button to open your decision, read “Congratulations! University of Oxford is offering you a place for Medicine in the 2017 term”, heard your parents shout jubilantly, felt your mom’s tears on your neck as she whispered how proud she was of you.

“Actually,” you say, “I’m graduating a bit early, and writing medicine at Oxford in the fall.”

Mrs. Piastri’s mouth forms a tiny O, which quickly morphs into a beaming smile. “Oh honey, congratulations!”

“If anyone could do it, it’s you,” she continues, and you blush at the compliment. “Oscar always said you were going to be a doctor, no, the best doctor—”

You freeze at his name, and she’s definitely noticed, because then she asks if he knows. You remember how you’d immediately reached for your phone, realized the only person who you wanted to tell was currently halfway across the globe, no doubt too busy with karting and his new school and his new friends for you to be so much as a blip on his radar. You’d called a few times, texted back and forth when he’d first moved, but they’d gotten sparser and sparser, until by the end of Year 11, there were hardly any messages at all.

You shake your head apologetically. “We’ve been pretty bad at keeping in touch.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it—he hardly even calls me,” she laughs. “He misses you, though, he always makes it a point to ask about you when he does call.”

Mrs. Piastri’s probably being diplomatic, so you just nod. But when you finally stand up from the dining table to leave, she tells you in earnest, “Give him a call, will you? I think it would really, really make his day.”

At home that night, you stare at his contact photo. In it, Oscar’s wearing one of your mom’s aprons, brandishing a piping bag like it’s medieval weaponry, looking goofy as hell. Maybe he’ll think you’re weird for calling. Maybe he won’t pick up.

Here goes nothing, you think, and click on the Facetime button.

One ring, two rings, and Oscar’s face suddenly fills your laptop screen. Your hands immediately starts to tremble.

“Whoa,” he breathes.

His voice is almost unrecognizable, no longer the reedy drone of a teenager’s, and his hair, no longer so cropped, dips in a smooth wave over his forehead. You had no idea his hair was wavy.

“Hi.” Your voice cracks; you clear your throat. “Been a while.”

“You cut your hair,” Oscar observes, his eyes darting around the screen, taking you in as you did him.

“Yeah. It was getting too hot for track.”

Oscar’s eyebrows fly up. “Since when do you run track?”

You shrug. “Since Year 11, I guess.”

“You hate running,” he says softly, and you feel a pang at the fact he remembered, and another at the realization that you’d joined the team because you needed something to take up your time on your newly vacant evenings. Then, louder, “I like it. You look…older.”

“Thanks. And I don’t hate running anym—well, I’m trying to like it,” you correct yourself, and both of you chuckle awkwardly.

“So,” Oscar says abruptly, all business. You feel a little prickle snake up your arms as he crosses his. “I heard something from a little birdie.”

“Whaddya hear?”

“I just—is it true you got into Oxford? For medicine?” His voice rises about two octaves on the last word.

“I—ah, yeah,” you stammer. Clearly, Mrs. Piastri had wasted no time in exposing you.

“Oh my god,” Oscar all but shrieks. You’ve never heard him this worked up before. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling suddenly shy.

“You’re excited, right? Why don’t you sound more excited?” he demands.

You swallow. “I am. Excited.”

“And why didn’t you tell me about it? I can’t believe I had to hear it from Mum.”

“I wasn’t sure if,” you take a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if you’d care,” you finish, lamely.

Shit, you think, as the smile fades from Oscar’s face.

“Oscar—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say you don’t care, or that you’re a bad friend—”

Oscar looks down. You see him chewing on his lower lip, and for a second you think he’s going to yell, or cry, or cuss you out.

But he just hangs his head. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Why are you apologizing?” you demand, horrified.

“Because…it’s true. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“No you haven’t,” you plead. “I could’ve—should’ve—told you myself. I just assumed you were busy, and that you had better things going on—”

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“If you assumed I was busy…” Oscar says slowly, “I was the one who should’ve reached out.”

You shake your head.

“I thought you were too busy,” he blurts out suddenly. “All I do is race. But you…you have so much. Top of the class, every club under the sun…you don’t have time to sleep. How could you have time for me?”

And even though Oscar’s face is marred by the pixelation of the screen, the red that rims his eyes isn’t lost on you. Too quickly, the screen isn’t the only thing blurring your view.

“But I—” Your voice cracks; you swallow, resolute. “Oscar. I’ll always have time for you.”

You think that in another universe, one where Oscar stands a few meters and not oceans away, you’d show him how much you mean it. Pull him close and breathe him in and hang on for dear life.

Maybe Oscar hears you anyway.

He drags his forearm across his nose, tries to disguise his sniffle in a laugh. “Do you still bake?”

“Not without you…but hey, I did today,” you quickly amend, as he quirks an eyebrow.

“You should start again,” Oscar says. “I’m gonna call you next week and you can tell me what you’ve baked.”

You open your mouth to protest, then realize what he’s said, how there’s going to be a call next week, and think it’ll be the longest week of your life. Might as well bake something to pass the time.

~

Oscar’s drunk. You’ve had a beer together, maybe a glass of wine with a cheese board, but you’ve never seen this Oscar, his hair sweaty and matted against his forehead, cheeks flushed from dancing and yelling over the thumping bass, his eyes a little glassy. You’ve been nursing a cocktail he’d bought you for the last hour, pleasantly tipsy, taking it all in.

Logan bounds over and plants himself on the stool next to you. “Why aren’t you dancing?” he gestures exaggeratedly to the mass of bodies undulating to the music.

“I’m old,” you grin, knowing full well Logan has you beat by a few months. His eye roll tells you he’s all too aware. “And I have a real job, remember?”

“But Oscarrrrr,” Logan drawls.

Your heart does a little lurch.

“What about Oscar?” you ask carefully.

“He wants you to daaaance,” he singsongs.

No way. Boy’s making stuff up. “I was gonna leave soon, anyway.”

As if summoned, Oscar shoves his way past a small throng gathered near the bar, stumbles up to you and Logan. You stick out an arm to steady him.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” you tease. “I’ve never seen you so gone before.”

Oscar grimaces. “Not that gone.”

“Good thing you showed up, though. I was just telling Logan I’m about to head out.”

He blinks slowly, as if you’d just woken him from a nap. “You’re…leaving?”

“I’m working tomorrow,” you remind him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan wink, slide out of his chair, then slink away to the mosh pit.

Oscar shakes his head, pushes his damp hair up his forehead. One strand remains stubbornly stuck above his right eyebrow. You resist the urge to brush it out of the way. “I’ll go too.”

“What?” you say, alarmed. “No. This is your party. Come on, Osc.”

“Then I’ll walk you out,” he says, and something in his voice tells you he won’t take no for an answer.

So you let him lead you out of the bar—although maybe you’re the one doing most of the leading, Oscar leaning on you, an arm wrapped around your waist. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his hand feels, gripping your side firmly.

The night air is cool, and you feel little bumps prick on your arms. You shiver involuntarily.

“Cold?” Oscar asks. Before you can respond, the arm around your waist moves up, wrapping itself around your shoulder. Another arm joins it around the other shoulder, two hands clasping together around your chest. Oscar rests his chin on your head, and you feel the heat radiating from his chest onto your back.

You giggle, a little giddy, maybe from the drink, maybe from him. “You make a great jacket. But I need my arms to call a cab, ya know.”

Oscar’s grip slackens, and you think he’s freeing you, but then he spins you around and suddenly, your face is buried in his chest. He smells like his cologne, intensified by the dampness of his shirt. “Thanks for coming.”

Your chest feels tight. “Of course,” you manage.

His eyes roam over yours, your cheeks, finally settling on your lips, and your heart hammers a painful staccato against your ribs. He slowly brings up a hand to your face, thumb lightly brushing the corner of your lips, index tilting your chin up. Your faces are mere centimeters apart.

He’s going to do it, you think.

But his shoulders sag, and his hand drops. You search his face desperately, wondering what he’s thinking, try to hide your disappointment.

“I’m drunk,” he says quietly. “And stupid. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. Not ten seconds ago, you’d felt like you were suspended in the air, before everything came crashing back down. Now you just want to…run. “You’re not. Stupid, I mean.”

Stupid. Kissing you would be stupid of him. He is drunk; anyone could be standing in front of him right now. Maybe he wishes someone else was.

Oscar’s lips disappear in a thin line. A shiny black cab rolls up to the curb.

The last thing you see before you turn the corner is Oscar’s stricken face. You bury your face in your palms, still slick with his sweat.

~

“A cake?”

“It was Nate’s birthday,” you retort.

“Oh yeah, and I bet Nate was so much happier to get your girly-ass flower cake over peanut butter cookies. I know they’re his favorite.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the pride in his voice at knowing your brother’s favorite cookie. “I’ll have you know he ate three slices at dinner last night.”

Oscar’s face softens. “In all seriousness, that cake looked pretty fire.”

“Thanks,” you say, blushing a little at the validation. You had to admit you were pretty proud of the orchids you’d painstakingly piped over the bottom of the cake—no cheating with fondant in your kitchen.

“How’s formal stuff? I saw some schools already had theirs. You’re going, right?”

“Nah,” you say, “it just wouldn’t be the same without—” You catch yourself just in time.

“Sorry, I think you cut out,” Oscar says. “It wouldn’t be the same what?”

“Nothing,” you reply hastily. “I just don’t really feel like going.” You picture him frowning on the other end of the line. “Do you have a formal at your school?” you attempt to change the subject.

He’s quiet for a second. “Yeah,” he says. “Same weekend as yours.”

Somehow, an image of him dancing with a pretty British girl materializes in your mind, and it prickles at your chest. Oscar would have no trouble getting a date to his formal—you remember the picture he sent you of him on holiday, tall, tanned, broad-shouldered, with the same grin that had so endeared you years ago.

Rustling on the other end. “Hey. Still there?”

You force yourself to snap out of it. “Yeah, sorry, got distracted.” Then, in as casual of a voice as you can muster, “Are you taking a date?”

“I dunno,” Oscar replies, his tone blasé. “Some of my mates are. I haven’t really thought about it.”

There it is again, Oscar asking the imaginary girl to be his date, her blushing and nodding yes.

“You should,” you say despite yourself. “Anyone would say yes to you.”

Your mom’s voice faintly echoes up the stairs, calling you down for dinner.

“Gotta go, Osc.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You tap the button to end the call, feeling a little like you’d just made a terrible mistake.

You tie the satin laces of your dress together behind your back in what you hope is a proper bow, fasten the straps of your heels around your ankles, and slick on a layer of lip gloss before inspecting yourself in the mirror. Not too shabby for someone who would rather be doing pretty much anything else than going to Year 12 formal with some strange boy and friends who are a lot more excited about it than you.

In the end, it was Jessica who had relentlessly begged and wheedled you to come, and you’d acquiesced, mostly to stop her from yapping your ear off.

But two days before formal, she told you at lunch that she’d found you a date.

“What?” you’d snapped. “Jess, I don’t want a date.”

“Please?” Jess widened her eyes. “I just think it’d be so much better for pictures, you know, if we all had a partner.”

You shook your head in exasperation. It wasn’t like you could do anything to change her mind. “Well?” you said, irritated. “Who is it, then?”

Jess smiled, a tad apologetically, mostly not. “I can’t tell you.”

“Jess! I swear to God—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she waved your words away. “I promise he’s not ugly and I promise you won’t hate him...you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You aim your phone at your mirror, and snap a selfie for Oscar, just like he’d asked. He was probably just waking up now...if he was actually awake. It was a Saturday, after all. And Oscar Piastri was not one to ever wake up earlier than 10am by his own will.

But this time, your phone pings right away.

Oscar  You look great!! :)

And that’s all you need to feel a little better about this entire formal situation.

You descend the stairs cautiously. You can already hear your friends chattering downstairs with each other, interspersed with a few unfamiliar voices you assume are some of their dates and all of your parents. One of them sounds vaguely like Oscar, and you wrench your thoughts away from him. Nope. Not tonight. You know you’re just going to be miserable if you keep thinking about him like that.

Jess notices you first, and squeals. “You look so good!”

The other girls crowd around you, complimenting your hair, your makeup, your dress. You think to yourself that it’s fun to dress up every once in a while. Be something other than your everyday self, forget about physics finals and the looming threat of college and boys who are going to other formals a thousand kilometers away.

“Jess is right,” a voice says behind you.

You whirl around.

Oscar is standing there, dressed in a black suit, the blush pink of his tie matching your dress, grinning from ear to ear. He’s holding a little box with a corsage inside of it.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

So you just launch yourself at him instead.

Oscar drops the box, picks you up by the waist as easily as if he was picking up his backpack, and spins around once, twice. Some of the guys whoop, and you can’t help but giggle, even though you feel tears on your face.

“What can I say?” he says, gently putting you back down. “Someone told me I should go...and that anyone would say yes to me.”

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, knowing your mascara is probably ruined for good.

“So,” Oscar continues softly. He bends down, picks up the corsage. “Does that apply to you too?”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Yes, Oscar,” you laugh, “yes it does.”

Oscar beams, takes your hand, sliding a little bouquet of creamy orchids up your wrist. Jess takes picture after picture of the two of you.

The smile doesn’t leave his face for the rest of the night, not as you cram into the backseat of one of your friends’ minivans, not as you jump up and down to the music at formal, not even as he passes out from the travel-induced exhaustion on the ride back.

You’re pretty sure it doesn’t leave yours, either.

--

taglist: @sideboobrry11 @helloooobroo @fangirl125reader

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #snickerdoodles

[riki-riks-chick]

enha legal line wet dream drabble?

Enhypen Wet Dreams

enhypen when they have a wet dream

═════════════

Heeseung:

Heeseung doesn't have wet dreams often, but every now and then, the two of you get really busy, too tired after work to even invest in sexual behavior. And it's so painful for him. Even if he is hard, he's too tired to deal with it, let alone ask you to.

It easily turns into him having a wet dream. His head is filled with visions of all the things he wants to do to you, and how you'd react. He wakes up, hard and slick with his own cum. You'd be sound asleep beside him, but he can't help but to wake you. You're tired and against it at first, but his pleading is a bit of a turn on.

You end up giving him sloppy head under the covers, opting to continue any other wants or needs in the morning when you're not tired as fuck. "We'll finish this later."

Jay:

Jay finds wet dreams embarrassing, so whenever he gets himself worked up enough to the point he has one, it's terrible for him.

Waking up with a raging hard on, it's still dark outside, and Jay hates that he's probably gonna have to spend the next thirty minutes trying and failing to cum again from just his hand alone.

He eventually wakes you with his quiet groans and grunts. You're confused at first, but when you see his fist closed around his dick, you get an idea.

You decide to let him fuck you, knowing that it would be less work on your part to simply let him get off, using you as a personal sex toy.

And it definitely isn't bad because you feel amazing and so does he. In the end, he doesn't think wet dreams are too bad. "Maybe I should wake you again next time."

Jake:

He happens to have a wet dream the one time you're not sleeping beside him. He was dreaming about something along the lines of fucking you in all his favorite positions, you in his favorite set that he bought you. Everything was so tempting.

But of course he wakes up in his empty bed, and he contemplates for twenty minutes before calling you.

His cock is already clutched in his right hand, he's holding the phone with his left. When you amswer, your voice sleepy and cute, he's already losing it.

It doesn't take you long to realize he's jerking off, so you give him some substance, whispering dirty words in the phone to help him get off. He eventually releases in his hand, moaning pathetically into the receiver. "Fuck.. I need you so bad."

Sunghoon:

The epitome of horny. Sunghoon hasn't been able to touch you all week because he's been busy as hell. This leads to the wet dream he's just woken up from. He was dreaming of you, fucking you from behind, which is his favorite way to do so.

He spends the next five minutes stroking his own cock, biting his lip to silence himself, but it's not working in his favor. He then looks over at you. You're sleeping so peacefully, and all he can think of is ruining you.

To his luck you've given him prior permission to try out the whole somnophilia thing. You both liked it last time, so he wanted to try again. You were luckily on your stomach too, so he simply removed the clothes on your lower half, sliding into you slowly.

He ended up waking you so he could fuck you properly and neither of you got any sleep. "Next time I'll try eating your pussy while you sleep.."

Sunoo:

Sunoo probably has frequent wet dreams. Waking up at random hours, soaked in his own cum just because he dreamed about you.

Like usual, he wakes you up, moaning in his sleep thanks to the content of the dream. You're not even surprised at this point. Usually you just watch him squirm and pretend to be asleep when he wakes up, but this time you wanted him to see you.

You had taken matters into your own hands, freeing his dripping erection before lowering yourself ontp his length. He wakes up, the feeling of your riding him being too good.

He comes pretty quickly, but you both agree to go for another round before taking a late night bubble bath. "You should do that more often.."

Jungwon:

He immediately wake you the second he has a wet dream. Whatever it may be, he's asking you to make it a reality.

So when you're awaken at nearly 2am, being asked in the most pitiful way possible, to suck your boyfriend's dick. You can't say no.

Jungwon is a moaning mess, enjoying the feelings he gets just from your mouth being wrapped around his cock so prettily.

He's cuming down your throat minutes later, whining pathetically as you suck on his tip.

The whole ordeal makes you horny too, so he gets to fuck you in the end. "Oh this is so much better than a dream..."

Riki:

Wet dreams are so embarrassing for Riki. He gets so shy it's almost unbearable. One time you woke up while be was trying to deal with his problem, and swears it was the worst thing that ever happened to him.

The second he wakes up, feeling the all too familiar stickiness in his pants, he's making a beeline for the bathroom, not wanting to wake you up.

Thank his lucky stars, because tonight just happens to be the night you wake up, walking into the bathroom where the lights are on and Riki is leaning against the counter in distress.

Being caught only made his problem worse. He was near tears until you stepped towards him. "Let me make it better.."

═════════════

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard thoughts #enha smut #enhypen heeseung #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen jungwon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki

[lovecolibri]

The only thing I'm going to say about this (<- probably lying) is that it doesn't matter how Buck felt in that scene. Because Buck isn't real and doesn't actually have feelings. What DOES matter is how it comes across to the audience. And if the vast majority of the audience had an "what the fuck is this and why is it happening like this?" reaction and that was NOT the intention of the scene? Then it wasn't done well.

You should not have to come out after the episode and explain what the scene was supposed to do. If you have to, then you have failed in your job to get across to the writers, directors, and actors what the point and purpose is. And maybe you have failed to take into account what the characters are like, their trauma histories, and how the audience might react given their knowledge of the characters involved.

A lot of people never forgave tay kay for what she did to Bobby in s2, and then having Buck Begins give us this raw, vulnerable version of Buck and his childhood only to have her lash out a couple of eps later calling him "needy" and a bad friend because he asked something of her instead of just being there to give her whatever she wanted? It's no surprise fans and the general audience never got on board with that relationship. Because it wasn't good to BUCK and that's what the audience wants.

I am personally continually BAFFLED that this show gives these moments of gentle teasing and support and validation of Buck's feelings (even when he can overreact a little out of trauma response) to Eddie, and then continually put Buck in romantic relationships with people that don't even seem to LIKE him, much less adore all his quirks and the things that make him BUCK, and most importantly, the things the AUDIENCE loves about him.

It's.....it's almost like Tim isn't even trying. Because the audience isn't SUPPOSED to like these relationships for Buck. Because they aren't the right ones for him. Because we all know who is.

But also, at some point it starts getting questionable as to why the people that love him don't speak up to express concern about him staying in long term relationships with people that are not nice to him. We all know the bait-and-switch of tay kay in s4 being a FOX network call to shut down what Tim wanted to do, and then he left the show with someone who doesn't like, see, or care about Buddie (or really any of the main characters that aren't Angela to live out some revenge fantasy or Buck to live out...other fantasies). So they couldn't very well have all of the firefam desperately asking Buck if he was even happy as he wasted away in that loft all season, or even allow them to be kinda pissed he would choose to be with someone like that who nearly got Bobby killed by not telling someone immediately and interviewing him without consent, but it never sat right with me that it was all just never addressed and they had them breakup on good terms (sorry not sorry but if you think T*mmy isn't nice to Buck, tay kay was worse in every way and thats canon fact).

So I don't have super high hopes that they will address this clear and obvious disconnect with Buck and T*mmy, but considering they made a point to have nearly all their screentime revolve around Eddie, and them not meshing as a couple it would be weird NOT to. Then again, *gestures to all that rambling above*

ANYWAY

The point it, at SOME point the audience does have to be a consideration because without an audience you do not have a show. So Tim needs to shake off the last of the Lone Star cobwebs, get KR the fuck out of the writers room, and make sure his intentions for scenes are ACTUALLY what make it onto the screen, and that what is on screen is stuff that will resonate positively with the audience. Maybe he should rewatch the first 3 seasons of the show himself to get back into the groove.

#911 #evan buckley #anti bucktommy #anti taylor kelly #i have not had my coffee yet ignore me #i just had to get it out so my brain would shut up about it

[accio-victuuri]

CHILDREN’S DAY CANDIES. 🍭🍬

let’s call this part one of today’s cpns cause i’m waiting for xzs side to share stuff and knowing that LOZ just wrapped, we might get something on that too. but i can’t wait to scream about these! good turtles really got the sweets for today!

let the two cute babies invite you in… ⬇️⬇️⬇️

to those who have no idea what this holiday is about, then this might help you.

starting off the day with yibo’s audi ad. he really remains unbothered despite all the chaos, it’s business as usual on his side. and that is the reality of his life: it goes on. no matter what happens or who try to bring him down. he will continue to shine ✨ the story for the ad was so interesting, it was so nice to see him “cooking” and it’s giving me flashbacks to his other efforts. this is more of me as a cpf thinking about how yibo could also be making an effort on his own to cook, even if it’s not elaborate dishes. the fandom loves to paint xz as the “wife” who does the cooking but maybe yibo does too? and that grocery scene? AAHHHHHHH! domestic yizhan is my weakness. so while they walk into a store all dressed up like that, the thought makes me somft. considering there is a possibility too that they will be in the same city soon 🙏🏼

then xzs reposted menghai’s anniversary post which some are saying is unusual for them but who knows. WHAT GETS ME THO IS THE CAPTION. the fuck.

WHO FAMOUSLY SAID THIS? to the point that it became a tagline for the fandom. Yibo. Yibo during all the drama that happened during Hidden Blade’s showing:

WYB: like what the director & that audience said, a movie can create a lot of thoughts but u still need to continue with ur life. for Wuming, i hope we can exchange sincerity with sincerity. we made this movie with our heart, so we sincerely hope that people will like the movie.

I’m not sure if this is some usual line or saying in 🇨🇳 with some literary relevance but the fact that it is associated with WYB gets me! XZS is known to do really good captions but using this? after all that happened with magnolia noms? i think it is not a coincidence. this feels like an indirect message. i am positive that they really intend to wish menghai a happy anniversary but the hidden meaning is not lost on me.

not only that…. they seem to match yibo-official’s caption too.

The wind blowing in the wilderness // The wind galloping in the wilderness 🍃

the wind. in the mainland, WOF title is called Wind Chaser. i can understand it from YBO’s perspective and why that was included. but XZS? another coincidence????

and the caption for YBO had a paper plane which is a symbol that we associate with them 🫶🏼 ( i have a post for this but i cannot find it lol. if someone here does, please comment. )

and as for the drawing, it’s very common for cpf to think that xz made it. not saying that ybo has no team of his own that can do it for him, but more of this is xz’s love language. making art for the person he adores. the fact that the t-shirt chibi yibo was wearing is inspired by that video of him dancing in 2011 was a nice touch.

the cartoon was supposed to be based on the photo which was from the olympics performance rehearsal — but to make it fit the Children’s Day theme, that was added. it is made by someone who loves him!

not to mention some other details that stood out to us. i bet you can analyze each in every composition of it and make a cpf analysis but these are the interesting bits:

but i’m more partial to that pig nose on the shoes! hahahahaha! when fans tease yibo, he becomes a pig instead of a lion/panther and this cheeky addition i feel like can only be added by someone close to him. a person who can get away with it 😂😂😂

the photo used had him with the green/pink shoes! plus the video shared, THAT HAT! ( i linked part 3 of my cpn post in but parts 1&2 are there for those who are not familiar or want a refresher) ! he is showing off again! can’t blame him tho.

sources: one / two / three / four

-END.

#the yeekies is so outrageous when he was young my god please let me nomnomnom ☺️☺️☺️☺️ #yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[squerlly]

Fair Exchange Chapter 6

--------------"love shows us to appreciate what we have"----------------

Alastor x (F! wife doe reader)

The Buck & The Doe---------------------------------------

The Buck:

y/n has been avoiding me lately, she serves me my breakfast and hurries off before I get a chance to speak to her. I'm sure this has to do with what happened last week, I regret yelling at her like that but I must keep my shadow away from her, I don't need it causing trouble. Especially with what it did, I should have known when it was following her.

It keeps pacing through the walls of my office, eager to see her... because..., I want to see her. How soft her cheeks felt under its fingertips, her rosy lips and warm skin. But I made a deal I wouldn't touch her, and a promise to myself I wouldn't get attached, I can't get attached. Not when I have a reputation to uphold.

I hear Charlie starting something downstairs, so I stand from my desk and make my way to the railing on the top floor. While investigating I see poorly spelled decorations and sloppy streamers pasted around the hotel. The banner said "welcome dad" wich can only mean...

I faze to the floor and appear downstairs by the door, Charlie opens it and- "CHARLIEEE!!" Lucifer says while giving Charlie a life-squeezing hug "It is so good to see you!" "Hey, Dad its uhh- good to see you, too..." she takes a breath and announces his welcome to the hazbin hotel.

He acts so childishly with his color pallet of ugh... white, and his sad excuse of a staff. He looks around before spotting the bar I had created "What in the unholy hell is that!?" "Just some of the renovations we had done, adds a bit of color don't you think" he gives me a sneer "And who are you?" I faze behind him causing him to flinch "Alastor pleasure to be meeting you, sir, quite a pleasure" I shake his staff, cleaning off my hand from whatever filth he accumulated "It's nice to finally put a face to the name, you are much shorter in real life"

"Who- who is this are you the bellhop" How dare he "Aha, no I am the host of the hotel, you must have heard of me from my radio broadcast~" At the corner of my eye I see y/n beside me looking at lucifer curiously, she hasn't stepped this close to me in a while. "Nope I guess that's why Charlie calls it the Hazbin hotel aha"

I turn my attention back to the "fun-sized" man in front of me "Ahaha it was actually my idea" "Hahaha, well it's not very clever" "Aha fuck you!" Charlie grabs Lucifer and y/n grabs my arm separating us.

The Doe:

Lucifer the Lucifer Morningstar is here? And he fighting with Alastor... I pulled Alastor away trying to calm him down, he just scowled at Lucifer while I tried to pull his attention away from him and onto me. We haven't talked in a while and I assumed it would be best to give him space since he seemed quite unhappy this past week.

I frown, and he looks away with a huff, walking away from me. "Without Alastor, we haven't been able to pretty it up this much," Charlie says with a smile "Charlie has a unique vision, and I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests~"

Lucifer growls and I just know things are about to get ugly "she is quite an impressive young lady, we are all veeery proud of her" Really Alastor, provoking the king of hell!! Really smart "Charlie why don't you introduce me to your OTHER friends," he says pushing past Alastor.

She introduces vaggie and the others, he seems really supportive of Charlie in an... odd way. Although I would have expected the king of hell to be a little more, scary...

Charlie walks up to me where I stand next to Alastor "And this is y/n one of Alastors friends!" Ouch... "hello it's nice to meet you" I say with a polite smile and wave, he shakes my hand and I hear Alastors static get louder. I feel somebody grab me by the waist and shove me aside before seeing the chandelier fall on the floor with dust everywhere.

I look and Alastor stands behind me, his ears pinned back slightly with a tight smile. Lucifer breaks into song, telling Charlie how he can help her with anything she needs free of charge, I step aside watching Alastor bud in and tell Charlie how he's better fit for the job. I haven't seen Alastor this riled with anyone other than Vox.

Their little argument over who is better was cut short when... "it's meee yes it's meeee, I know you were waiting for MEEE" I groan as Mimzy bursts through the doors singing.

"Mimzy!!" Alastor shouts from behind me, giving her a warm hug. "I thought I'd stop by, say hi for old times sake" "Of course sweetheart everyone is welcome here" Mimzy has been around Almost as long as I have, with her knowing Alastor when he was alive, dancing and drinking together like they're best friends "oh quite a talent this gal hoho, you should have seen her in her heyday~"

She also sees me as competition, its no secret that she likes Alastor more than just friends, its why we don't get along. I was never the jealous type, it didn't matter to me how close she got to Alastor, but its was the way she did it, Pushing me around or secretly judging me. I didn't like her because Alastor always let her get away with being well... a bitch.

I stand at the bar with husk and we both exchange annoyed glances, husk doesn't like Mimzy either, she's always teasing him about being Alastors pet. Charlie, Alastor, Vaggie, and Lucifer walk down the hallway for a tour, and Mimzy bounces over asking for a drink. She purposefully sits beside me "My my is that husker? Alastor still has you slinging hooch for him I see~ classic" She then turned to me with a frown "y/n, you're looking well"

My eye twitches and I grip the counter's edge "As do you..." She takes a long sip of her drink and then speaks "I thought Alastor would have got tired of ya by now" "And I thought an exterminator got you" She narrows her eyes and Angel walks over "So uh... you and Alastor are what friends?" He says sitting between both of us, exchanging glances with Husker.

"Well your words, not mine, but I think it fits" She stops and gives us a confused look "Why so surprised?" Angel gives me an ill-handle this look and I stand up to leave, and I make my way over to the hallway where Alastor is. I see Husk rush out passed me with a scared look and I stop, "Alastor?..." I call out, seeing scratch marks on the ceiling.

"Yes" I hear from behind me and I turn with a gasp "Oh my, heh you, uhm... ok?" I say holding my chest from being startled "Don't worry my dear just a small matter that's already been taken care of" he says straightening his bow tie while We stand in the hallway in awkward silence.

The Buck:

I look down at y/n as she toys with her fingers, and I lift my hand almost touching her. She looks up at me nervously and I stop, she so close in reach, I wanted to touch her, and hold her close but I don't. I drop my hand and speak "I apologize for my behavior last week, I'm above yelling at you for things you didn't do, I'm sorry..." I say and she looks up at me with those sweet soft understanding eyes.

"That's ok, I forgive you..." she whispers with a smile, my heart speeds up and heat burns my cheeks. What is the matter with me why am I acting like this, I have known this woman for more than 75 years, and not once have I had a reaction like this towards her. I'm the radio demon, I'm not soft and weak, I'm merciless and terrifying. I shouldn't be fretting over silly little feelings for my wife.

I grip my staff tighter, feelings for my wife... my wife "Are you alright Alastor, you haven't been acting like yourself" she reaches out and touches my hand, making my breath hitch. I have fallen for my wife, I have fallen for y/n heartfelt. This small, innocent woman who has cared for me, tended to me, helped me since the day I dragged her down here, And It took decades to realize.

"I'm alright dear, it has been a stressful week. Shall we head back to the lobby?" I say gripping her hand lightly, she visibly relaxes before nodding.

The Doe:

As Alastor and I make our way for the hallway, we feel the floor shake, and I give Alastor a puzzled look. He looks around and we rush to see what's going on, lucifer, Vaggie, and Charlie walk through a portal and everybody starts to panic. "Mimzy you lousy bitch, we know your in there!!" Everybody turns their attention to her and she retreats behind the bar.

"Mimzy what did you do!?" I say storming over to her "I may have crossed some lone sharks that I may or may not have borrowed 50 grand from, and stolen a car, that I then ran over the lone shark's girlfriend with but that bitch had it comin'!!!"

suddenly large rocks burst through the windows and the hotel begins to shake, Alastor pushes me behind the bar and walks over to stop vaggie from attacking "No my dear leave this to me, it's time I remind everyone why I am here" large black tendrils start coming out of his back and his eyes turn into radio dials "A reminder to all not to mess with the radio demon!" he crawls out of the hotel's broken doors, his body getting larger and larger "I'm going to devour each and every one of you!!"

I step out from behind the bar witnessing what can only be described as a massacre, I have only seen Alastors body expand once or twice, and surprisingly I'm not as afraid of it as I should be. Charlie and her dad argue about the hotel's cause while Angel and Husk eat popcorn.

once Alastor is done he shrinks back to his normal size and I run up beside him "Oh I miss getting to let off steam~" he says twirling his staff. Mimzy comes out from the corner and claps "Oh Alastor you did a fantastic job, bravo as always thanks for helping out little old me from a tough spot, your such a pal"

The buck:

I turn and see Mimzy walking over to me, pushing y/n out of her way nearly causing her to fall. she's not going to bring danger, have me clean up her mess, and throw my wife around. no... she's not getting away with it this time "Sorry about the mess but I'm sure y/n could take care of it for ya~" my eyes narrow as I speak

"Mimzy I think you should go" She looks at me and scoffs "Oh you are so funny, such a jokester. you don't really care about this hotel do ya? you heartless. son. of. a. bitch" I peel her hands off of me "I mean it, you deliberately brought trouble, you are welcome to stay if you really want to give redemption a try, but we both know that's not your style, so you need to leave" she looks at me in disbelief and I raise a brow "pff fine, who needs ya, good luck with your hotel and your little princess, see if I care"

She walks away and I turn my attention back to y/n whos dusting off her dress, I look at her seeing that she has not a single scratch "Are you alright my dear?" she nods with an expression I can't quite read "We should head back inside, and check on the others"

The Doe:

I rush in seeing the hotel in bad shape, with holes in the walls, glass everywhere, and parts of the ceiling missing but thankfully nobody's hurt "Oh Charlie I'm sorry about the hotel..." she breaks her hug with vaggie and walks over to me "hay its ok, I'm sure Alastor can help fix this up in no time" I look around but don't see lucifer "Uh... Charlie where is your father?" "he left back to his house... mansion... castle... whatever you wanna call it but he got me a meeting with heaven!!!"

she lets out an excited squeal, grabbing vaggie "Come on vaggie let's go pack, we're going to heaven!!!" "oh that's, great... yeah let's do that, yay heaven..."

I'm so so so so so so sorry that this came out later than I wanted but some family things came up while I was working on this. however, its finally out. I hope you guys liked this chapter and as always stay tuned and have a wonderful day/night!!

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz @kimmis-stuff @sakuraluna2468

for more content and chapters please click this masterlist

#hazbin #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel

[bbyobbyo]

To Mingyu, you were perfect. It was no wonder he was drawn to you when his long time best friend and roommate introduced you to him as his partner. Alas, you were perfect but you weren't his.

content: angst, fluff if you squint, suggestive (no actual depictions of sex), unrequited love, pining, gyu is a simp

wc: 729

notes: second attempt hehe, thank you everyone who read my vernon fic! feedback is appreciated, i'm still new here 😔👉👈

Truthfully, there was no better person for you than Wonwoo. Mingyu could at least admit that much. You complimented each other like yin and yang, supporting and uplifting one another in harmony. You were the much needed ray of sunshine and motivation in his life, and he was the structure and inspiration you wanted in yours. Over time your presence became a welcome constant in his life, first by association, then seemingly by necessity.

"She is the best thing to ever happen to me" his roommate would exclaim constantly, and Mingyu couldn't help but agree.

He tried to be happy for his friend, he really did. After all, why wouldn't he want the people he loves to be happy? It wasn't like he didn't want you visiting the apartment constantly, always with a delicious treat to share in hand. Nor did he dislike your genuine attempts to get to know him as a person, asking about his preferences and aspirations in life. In fact, it bothered him more and more that he wished you came over more often, even when his roommate wasn't home.

It was tortuous to hear the sounds in the apartment when you and Wonwoo thought he was asleep. Heavy moans and muted whines haunt his brain on those long nights filled with tossing and turning. The next morning he tries his best to pretend like he didn't see the hickeys littered on your neck just barely covered by your hair when he ran into you making breakfast. And yet, when you ask if he had a good night's sleep with an offer of making an extra serving for him, he doesn't have the heart to tell you the truth. That he spent the entire night wishing it was him in the bed next to you instead.

-

The day the world came crashing down on him was the day Wonwoo had told him about his plan to propose to you. An evening surrounded by his 12 closest friends that you have also come to adore, how perfect. It was so perfect that he didn't even have to think twice when saying yes when Wonwoo asked him to help film the entire affair.

"I trust you over Seokmin any day, that man can't keep a secret for his life. But if you tell her it's for a personal project, she won't suspect a thing!" he chuckles.

"Yeah," Mingyu mumbles back, not quite meeting his friend's eyes, "she won't see it coming."

-

Mingyu thinks he's going insane. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos from tonight and yet he's enamored by this one. You're absolutely dazzling, looking at the camera like you just discovered the lens, eyes turned into crescents and smiling cheek to cheek. How long has he waited for you to smile at him like that? And the first time you do, he's behind a camera. At your fucking wedding reception of all places.

"You like her." His head snaps up from the viewfinder.

"What?"

His older friend snakes a gentle hand on over his shoulder. "You like her, don't you?" Seungcheol repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu says nothing, slowly directing his gaze back downwards at the camera, screen stuck on the photo of you he took only a few moments ago. He can't do anything but sigh. Seungcheol's expression softens, giving his younger friend's shoulder a knowing squeeze.

"It gets better."

God, he sure hopes it does.

-

Mingyu's attention fades in and out when you're reading your vows. It's ironic that on one of the happiest days of your life, he finds it impossible to focus on you when it feels like that's all he's done for years. It was a welcome distraction, however. He can't decide what would destroy him more: listening to you profess your love to someone that wasn't him, or knowing that you meant every word. You end your monologue gracefully with a small smile, holding back a sob as the groom begins his.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me," Wonwoo begins, voice breaking as he bites back his own tears.

In another time, another place, Mingyu would've agreed with him. But in this moment, as you look at his best friend like he's the center of your whole world, Mingyu decides that you might have been the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic