#He’s just simply a godsend

[incognit0slut]

MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

[diejager]

just thought of something really funny for the monster cod au. what if reader has a small emotional support dog, and reader is just kissing, cuddling and saying “i love you”s to the dog. do you think the animal hybrids would get jealous of the dog bc of their animal instincts?

Cw: jealousy, tell me if I missed any.

You came with a K9, a big Shepherd and collie mix that you took in after you completed you medic training, a little friend you trained and spent your time with. You two were a package deal, the Task Force wouldn’t have you without Milo, and vice versa. You were assured by Laswell that they didn’t mind K9s in the TF, it was a welcome sight to have an actual dog rather than a hybrid or monster. You took it with stride, Milo by your side at all times and they were never bothered by it, how protective he was of you and how much attention you gave him, but you hadn’t expected to see some grow… jealous of Milo.

You watched Soap and König especially turn green with envy, their burning glare shot towards you fury friend when you kissed his nose and praised him for being such a good boy. He truly was, your loyal and affectionate companion that you nurtured since he was a pup, fighting side by side with you when you were on the field. Soap - sweet Johnny - would shift more often, throwing himself at you whenever you were walking Milo. Rather than simply walking a dog, you walked a dog and a werewolf, a jealous and drooling werewolf that kept rubbing his side against yours, panting and growling out words that you didn’t understand. It was hilarious, seeing how jealousy made Johnny act, his tongue lolling out to lick over your cheek, demanding kisses and praises with his wide and gleaming eyes after you gave them to Milo. 

König was as unsubtle about it as Soap was, voicing his envy with nonverbal cues for affection. He would trail behind you, his broad figure so quiet, and tugged at your shirt, mumbling incoherent words until you gave him you attention. He’d stare you down, fluttering his lashes for compliments, whether they were teasing ones or loving ones, he took all and anything you gave him. It was rather… König was less eager than Soap was with praises, but he was more stubborn with it, silent demands and needs for the occasional praise or words of affirmation that you still loved him. 

Ghost and Horangi never showed a sign of discontent about the amount of love you gave Milo, but they did towards Soap and König’s unabashed need for it, some slight disgust and growls, snarling at the other for something you truly didn’t understand. Price and Alejandro were… they found enjoyment in your sticky situation, you caught them throwing you a mean grin when you passed them with either Soap, König or both of them stalking behind you. You remembered them calling Soap and König lost pups with heart eyes.

Then there was Gaz and Rudy, godsends, the gentle but logical figures of the team, they would step in to redirect Soap or König’s attention towards them to let you go about your day. If Johnny followed you around, a big wolf drooling all over the floor, scaring others away, Rudy would send his cadejos to herd the big wolf back. If König became your third shadow, his giant figure looming over you and making everyone hesitant to seek your help when they needed needed it, Gaz was there to offer to cuddle up in the couch and let König run his fingers through his wings. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #konig x reader #konig mw2 #mw2 ghost x reader #soap mw2 #soap x reader #price mw2 #price x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #horangi #horangi x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rudy parra #rudy x reader #monster 141 #monster 141 au #monster cod au

[onlyswan]

summary: in which your period cramps bring you to tears but jungkook’s gentle hand is warm.

> fluff / wc: 2k

> warnings: boob massage !!, mention of sex, mention of period blood

note: a little sumnsumn for the physical intimacy of it all <3 and my fellow period havers who get unbearable period cramps and sore boobies </3 and before u ask - yes, i’ve been listening to joon’s closer on repeat a lot. like a lot. and it makes me devastatingly emotional. + feedback is always appreciated :DD

—

your head accidentally bumping against jungkook’s shoulder as you curl up in pain is what ultimately wakes him up. out of habit, his blurry eyes gloss over at the time displayed on the digital clock. 3:14am.

he cups your face in concern, which is visibly stricken with agony. two of his longest fingers brush back the strands of hair that fell over your eyes, and they flutter upon shortly after. his lips curve into a frown when he notices your eyelashes that kissed your cheeks goodbye are wet from unshed tears. you fell asleep at 9pm earlier, and he thought you’d feel better when you wake up in the morning, but he turned out to be wrong. your period cramps seem to be particularly bad this month, adding up to the fact that it arrived two weeks early.

“want a massage, baby?”

his deep morning voice sends a shiver running through your spine, and you quickly try to cover it up with a whine. “yes, please.”

he grabs the lavender essential oil from the first drawer of the nightstand beside him, and his hand already turns slippery from barely holding the bottle. you force yourself to lie down on your back, allowing your boyfriend to apply three pumps of the oil on your stomach. he pulls your shirt back down to shield you from the airconditioner before lowering the waistband of your shorts to reach your lower abdomen. he lathers the oil across your soft skin, hoping to ease the tension of the muscles beneath it.

“your hand is so warm.” you mumble with a shaky sigh, at last finding the inexplicable relief you desperately needed. the hot compress that has gone cold too quickly beside you would hang its head in shame if only it could hear. “you’re a godsend. thank you.”

he hums in response, inching closer to give your temple a kiss. his tender rubbing gradually turns into adept kneading, mindful of exerting just the right amount of pressure so he won’t cause you any more pain. next thing you know, he’s lying on his side and using your arm as a pillow as he peppers kisses along the expanse of your jaw and neck.

with your eyelids fluttering open and shut from drowsiness, you lazily grasp jungkook’s wrist to guide his hand higher on your torso. “it’s sore here, too.”

he grazes the swell of your right breast with a feather-light touch. “where?”

“there . . . there. hurts.” you whimper weakly when he applies a little pressure on the side near your armpit, unconsciously digging your nails on his forearm. you despise how your eyes are watering again, and you’re not even sure if it’s because of the pain or simply put, jungkook’s existence. “and under it.”

with courteous gentleness, his four fingers dance across your skin in repetitive movements. he creates circular motions from under your breast to the side, and then he makes his way back to where he started to do it all over again.

“does this feel okay?”

the scent of lavender and your boyfriend’s affectionate ministrations carry you to slumber’s glittering gates, but his voice nudges you away before you can take a step inside the land.

“huh?” you whisper tiredly.

he snickers with his eyes closed. “i asked if this feels okay. are you getting sleepy again?”

his heavenly therapeutic massage doesn’t cease. his thumb brushes against your nipple every now and then, which is why it’s unsurprising to feel it perk up and harden under his touch. he continues with following the loop he made, determined to shoo away the soreness that’s causing his lover to tear up and sniffle in pain.

“so nice. i’m falling asleep soon.” your fingers thread through his dark hair, loosely hugging him to your chest as you drown yourself in the scent of his shampoo.

“does the other one hurt too?”

his innocent question makes you chuckle. this causes your body to vibrate and to trigger the sharp pain shooting up on your sides. holy fucking shit, that hurts. hormones are a bitch.

“yes, but not as much.”

jungkook fights off sleep as he alternates between massaging your lower abdomen and chest. your skin gradually dries up as it absorbs the essential oil, but he doesn’t take this as a signal to stop at all. he keeps going anyway. as sleepiness clouds his mind, however, he impulsively cups your breast in his hand and allows himself a firm squeeze. the two of you knew it was inevitable, really, because it’s obviously a reflex for him at this point. and yet, your breath still gets heavier, as if this is the first time you’ve been touched by him.

“you’re so squishy. want to stay like this forever.” he mumbles almost incoherently. he gives the soft flesh another squeeze, and another, and another, before pressing his fingers on the side to carry on with his massage.

“you know, i’m starting to think you really mean that.” you recount all the other times he hazily uttered the same words while holding your boobs and/or nuzzling his face against them during non-sexual encounters simply because he finds them, in his own words, so comforting. one of these days you ought to ask: does he have the same affinity for them as you do for his doe eyes?

well, not that you mind. clearly, you get more privileges from it than you originally thought.

“mhmm, guilty as charged.” he replies with a toothy grin.

he pulls you closer by the curve of your waist as if your bodies could possibly get any closer than this, but he stubbornly insists and he painfully yearns. lost in a haze— he wants to get under your skin, let his pounding heart cross the distance and meet yours like two penpals throwing caution to the wind. however, your hearts are prisoners to your vessels.

isn’t this the reason we have sex? make love? to be as close as humanly possible? more than what they call an instinct, honestly speaking, is it not an enigmatic ache? a greedy appetite for love?

maybe that’s also why jungkook refuses to stop stealing kisses from your lips despite uncontrollable giggles racking the both of you. he holds himself up on top of you, planting his hands on the mattress. teeth accidentally knocking once, lips landing on the corners of your mouth, the air becomes warmer but he refuses to let go of the moment when he finally aims right. maybe that’s why he still chases after you despite getting reluctantly pushed away, feeling like he just won the nine-digit prize at the lottery when he gets rewarded with one final peck. it’s as if to say i don’t want to be a stranger. i don’t want to forget. let me mold the memory of the shape of your lips onto mine.

“your hair kept tickling my ear.” you tilt your head to the side to escape, gasping for air.

his playful giggles continue to fill the dark hours’ ringing silence, relentlessly moving closer to snuggle with you again. the scent of lavender has hung to the fabric of your shirt, and it soothes him to sleep like a lullaby.

“you made all the blood gush out. i hate you. need to go change before i stain the sheets.”

the loss of your warmth causes him to muffle a groan against your pillow, his hand holding on to yours until the hook of his pinky finger slips away from your thumb. he hears the walk-in closet open and close, and then the same with the bathroom door. the sound of water running from the shower serves as white noise as he loses the battle against the angel of slumber.

feeling refreshed after a quick warm shower, you go back to bed with your pain finally cranked down to a bearable level. however, the sight of your sleeping boyfriend snoring with his mouth slightly open makes you click your tongue with a laugh. the stubborn man somehow always ends up using your pillow, or you as a pillow. with a silent grunt, you carefully carry and drop his upper body to his side of the bed, followed by his long legs. you adjust his head on his special pillow to keep it elevated just enough, so he won’t complain about a sore neck in the morning.

the snoring stops briefly, and then comes back softer this time around. well, that’s good enough.

—

jungkook jolts awake at the sound of his 5am alarm, rushing to turn off the phone tucked under the side of his pillow so it won’t disturb you. as he stretches out his limbs, he rubs away the remaining sleep in his eyes to look at your sleeping figure properly. you’re facing him with your hand curled up around his tattooed forearm. your phone is propped up against your pillow, still faintly playing the ghibli film ‘princess mononoke’. he takes it with him when he soundlessly climbs off the bed. he leaves it turned off on top of the nightstand beside you before stumbling inside the bathroom.

he sleepily stands infront of the mirror as he brushes his teeth, tucking his hair behind his ear to observe the lines that formed on his face, the most probable cause being that he slept on his side again. with his exhausted eyes closed, he starts massaging his cheek with the heel of his palm to increase the circulation of blood and oxygen, which will make the lines fade away quicker. he still smells the traces of lavender from not too long ago. he splashes his face with water, and they get washed away and replaced by the smell of his face cleanser.

it’s already past 6am when he deems himself prepared to leave for work. he turns off the stove and refills your hot compress with the water he heated up, softly singing the words to ‘dynamite’ as he does so. he runs through the choreography inside his head, making small lazy movements, just to keep his body familiar with the dance moves.

with his backpack swung over his shoulder, he goes back inside the bedroom to bid you goodbye. you tossed and turned in the empty queen-sized bed while he was gone, and you’re already lying on your back with your shirt riding up above your belly button.

“aigoo, aigoo! you’re a messy sleeper, i’m a heavy sleeper. we really belong together.” he converses with himself as he pulls your shirt down and places the hot compress over your lower abdomen.

you attempt to turn to your side again but he holds you back, putting your hand on top of the hot compress to keep it pressed against you.

“hey- hey, baby. i’m off to work now.”

you only hum in response, raising your arms to reach for him. he instantly bends down into your embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead for a kiss that lasts a little longer than usual. “mmmm-mwah!”

“can’t- open my eyes. i bought new face masks yesterday. are you wearing it?” you mumble. “the other brand’s strings are too fragile. i fucking broke five of them. don’t wear those anymore.”

he chuckles at the way your voice gets louder while saying the curse word then drops back down to quiet mumbling right after. it’s sickening how being in love makes him fawn over the smallest details about you.

“yup. found them in the living room.” his thumb brushes against your cheek lovingly. “take it easy working today, okay? i love you.”

you nod your head repeatedly. he doesn’t understand the slurred words that manage to escape your mouth after that, and perhaps, he doesn’t need to. he knows that you love him too.

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @jeonqkooks-main @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl @cherishoshi @taexidriver @luaspersona @yn-lifeu @loveejkk @bloopkook + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[yandere-romanticaa]

I just know for a fact that this man would do absolutely anything you tell him to do, even if it's just a joke.

Even if you mention something in passing, such as an annoying colleague that's pestering you, Chuuya is all ears. Depending on the severity situation he will either flat out cuss the person out right in front of you OR he will most likely do something like this - he won't say much, he'll hear you out and will not interrupt you at all. His face is flat as he holds a cigarette, making sure to redirect the smoke elsewhere that wasn't your face. As cute as you were to see so riled up, Chuuya was only okay with it if he was the reason why you were riled up. Anything else is off the table. If he sees a chance, Chuuya will pry for more information such as the name of the person, where they live, possible hobbies and routines, literally anything. In the heat of the moment you tell him everything you know, huffing in annoyance as you keep on rambling, completely unaware of the brewing storm inside of his head.

Chuuya made sure to keep his actual job hidden from you. A sense of normalcy and stability is something he craves like a man who was being starved to death and after endless years of search and betrayal, he found a lifelong companion in you. He hated lying but Chuuya simply wasn't ready to tell you absolutely everything about himself, not yet.

However, he was all too aware of the power he had. All the cards were in his hands and he was going to make his move.

It might take him a day or so to find his target but he makes sure to be as brutal as he can be. His ability truly was a godsend in this situation, the screams of your tormentor was like music to Chuuya's ears. His hands were in his pockets as he grinned at his victim, his ability crushing his body and organs, leaving a heaping pile of rotting flesh on the floor, all for the flies to devour. The mafioso left the apartment with a smug feeling in his chest but he still needed to be careful. Just because he could kill someone for you doesn't mean that he should.

People like this were a fine exception though. He was sure that you'd be freaking out with the news that the man had died such a horrific death but he also knew that you would be over it just as fast.

He was more than ready to guide you through it all. Say the word and he will give it everything he has.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enomane, @ishqani, @satohruu, @bluepeanutharmony, @ficsreblogs

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere scenarios #chuuya nakahara #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya #yandere chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #yandere bsd #yandere chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya

[sukified]

— his favorite ho.

❀ katsuki b. x fem!reader

❀ outline. teeny tiny drabble because i saw a car sex twt vid and it made me miss kats

❀ w. 18+ content, dirty talk, very light assplay, katsuki has anger issues, riding, car sex

❀ do not repost thx

katsuki has had a long fuckin’ day.

higher ups yapping in his ear and telling him that his poor attitude towards civilians has become a daily topic and he’s had enough. everyone who knew of the pro knew that his temper was short, that he wasn’t saving people to be friendly. no, he was doing his job, keeping japan safe and sound under his supervision without fake flowery bullshit.

not only that, his anger management classes have been kicking his ass. it was a requirement as soon as they threw katsuki on the front lines— he needed to attend regular sessions. it was believed that going to talk about his feelings, forced out of his protective shell of aggression and anger, would improve his performance.

whatever the hell that meant.

you know full and well how katsuki has been feeling about his current predicament. he brought it up all the time over whatever fancy dinner he treated you to, complaining about responsibility and growth and the likes. the man simply needed emotional guidance, he needed to learn healthier ways to deal with his feelings and mental hurdles because they were strong. everything about him was so very strong.

though, when he didn’t feel like running an irritated hand through his mop of thick ash hair while he spewed profanities about his braindead therapist or his dick-sucking bosses, he’d keep you stuffed.

it was a particularly taxing day on his end, seeing as though spring tends to bring out the evil motives and the villains. popping off explosions and knocking wrongdoers the fuck out could only go so far for his stress, for his mental constipation.

no, today he needed more. he needed to shut his brain up, needed to direct the anger and resentment and frustration elsewhere. what better way to deal with his problems than take it out on his pretty baby?

“been forever since i’ve given you good dick, hah?” katsuki hisses as his head lolls back lazily, thunking against the sleek leather of his backseat, rough hand planted limply on the curve of your waist. you look godsend hovering over him, your shoulders flexing as you grip on his thick thighs, trembling like a goddamn leaf as you fight to keep yourself up.

he’s got you riding him because he’d be damned if he put any extra effort into the shitty day. today was your day to take control, a rare one because he couldn’t be bothered. katsuki had called you up as soon as his patrol ended, voice void of emotion in fear that he’d end up snapping at you for any minuscule reason. after all, you hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve his berating.

your pussy cries and sobs as you bounce on his cock sensually, the strain making your mind fog up and blank on your train of thought. it was almost a routine for the pro to use your body for a nice shutdown, you felt it was the best way to thank him as a citizen. he sought you out on his worst days and you never failed to follow through, something he fucking adores about you.

his jaw is slack, blonde stubble decorating his skin, tongue slithering out to lick at his lips. you were so damn wet and tight around him, it was just enough to help him block out the spiel he had received earlier in the day about working on his rescue skills. nah, he didn’t need to change himself for the sake of others, you seemed to like him just as he was.

“shit, you’re filth. jus’ a filthy girl,” the sound of his voice, mumbled and distant, makes your cunt throb. your walls suction him tight, coating him in a glossy mess of your pussy drool. he swears he could die happy right here and his mind is nearly blank as he slips a thumb in your ass, huffing out a quiet chuckle at the way your back arches immediately.

no matter how nasty his attitude can be, you come back for more. you always do.

#katsuki smut #bakugo smut #bnha smut

[mono-dot-jpeg]

some real nagi thoughts

a/n; it's some god gamer nagi time. as a gamer myself, i want some real gamer shit in headcanons. we may want a duo in gaming but only in genshin??? HELL NO. im like half sorry to genshin players. there's probably some crazy power creep in that, with the amount of characters they have now

[implied to be no blue lock project]

unapologetic gamer! nagi who hate matching pfps and usernames. do you know how weird those can get, especially on the horniest fps games? he doesn't hate you for the idea, he hates the reputation that comes with it.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who plays (mostly) everything, mmos, rpgs, card battlers, moba, rts, auto battlers, etc. he does not limit himself (kind of), and he's okay with playing games on his own.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who cannot simply pause his online matches for you. you'll have a damn hard time getting him off those ones. "it's too much of a bother to leave the match now, i'll get a timeout if i leave."

unapologetic gamer! nagi who hates gacha games because "it's always more of a cash grab than most games i even play." and he plays games from riot and ea company.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who has definitely went free to play on other games just out of pure spite when he heard about how bad genshin was. "there's no excuse for them to be so stingy, they didn't learn from honkai impact."

unapologetic gamer! nagi who loves gore and horror games more than anything. he won't stop playing those. he'll be considerable enough to play away from you if you hate them, but he's like locked in, headphones on max, and stuck in his chair. you're not getting him back for hours.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who plays slow games despite how much they make him tired. he can't play life/farming sims because of this. he can do his best to speedrun it but he gets impatient.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who jumps from game to game. he gets fixated on different games every few months. when you see him, he's talking about them casually, or he's infodumping everything he physically can. he has that little passionate shine in his eyes, like when he plays a good game of soccer.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who plays ranked like the loser he is. he doesn't really care about the toxic people in those matches. he likes a challenge. but he does unintentionally rile people up though with his nonchalant and blunt words. don't play ranked with this man, he is in diamond/low masters, and he is so tilted about it even if he doesn't say it.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who definitely needs to be taken care of. god help him, reo was a godsend to deal with his shit. when he gets tilted, he's somehow even more lazier than he normally is. "being angry is such a hassle." but you know he's fucking pissed off out of his mind about to smash his desk about that one bad match that gets him de-ranked.

#blue lock nagi #blue lock x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #bllk nagi #bllk x reader #bllk nagi seishiro

[draculasfavoritewife]

Touch Me Please

Summary: Aftereffects can be painful to work through by yourself, and a little help from your partner can be a godsend.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Unwanted touch from a gross man, initial lack of communication, suggestions of a panic attack. Extended sequence of getting handsy in the shower. Possessive! Din.

I will never tire of writing shower scenes ❤️‍🔥. I love the thought of Mando's partner sometimes going undercover to flush out particularly oily bounties. And I really don't know what came over me for this one's ending...I have to blame my senselessness on the utter chokehold this man has on me hehe.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

"I had it handled."

Din gives no response to your annoyed statement, simply lowers himself on one knee to yank his vibroblade from deep in the throat of the male Twi'lek on the floor, whose body has just barely ceased twitching.

You angrily stalk towards him, wrenching your chain along in one hand, your own knife still humming loudly in the other. "Don't you tune me out, Mando," you warn, using his professional alias as much out of displeasure as necessity. "I. Had it. Handled. But no, you just HAD to have things done your way. And now he's dead and we have to make a run for it."

"Warm or cold, makes no difference," he says gruffly, still not looking at you. He's a little too focused on the prone body of the asset, and you briefly wonder what's bothering him.

He doesn't usually act so impulsively when you're undercover.

With an exasperated snort, you shake your head and turn your attention to your modified slave collar, pressing the hidden release so it falls away, leaving you unchained once more. "This was a waste."

"We got what we came for." He rises and hefts the dead man across his wide shoulders with breathtaking ease, indicating the doorway with a sharp jerk of his head. "Let's get out of here before too many of his lackeys come looking for him."

You sheathe your knife and pull his pulse rifle from its holster on his back. He doesn't object.

He can tell you might need to disintegrate a few lowlifes before it's safe to hold a conversation with you again.

Your escape goes smoothly, more so than the actual mission, ironically, and soon the two of you are standing in the ship's hold, watching the carbonite seal over your latest asset. Din is acutely aware of how close you are to him, all his senses on high alert as his religiously conditioned mind struggles to process how you can just STAND THERE so exposed. Your slave dancer disguise is perfect, as far as it can be called a disguise.

As much as the pair of you shares under cover of darkness, he's never really seen so much of your skin before, bared between little more than straps of leather and the drape of filmy netting. He has to remind himself repeatedly that you consider yourself dar'manda.

He wonders too, if you'd done jobs like this before your partnership. Not once did he see anything in your stride that betrayed your discomfort. Images flash through his head unbidden, of the way you moved before your new "master", of how you remained still and silent even as that crime lord TOUCHED you....

Din Djarin is a controlled man. So his admittedly violent and perhaps unnecessary reaction to seeing that filth's hands straying -- too close to areas of you that belong only to him -- has him slightly shaken, though he'd never say so.

Does he regret having buried his blade in that scum's neck for his sins, for trying to take what's his?

No.

He doesn't.

He finally emerges from his brooding at the sound of your voice beside him. "I'm not angry at you, Din." Everything from this mission has finally caught up with you, drowning the adrenaline in exhaustion. "I just wish you trusted me more. I know I don't look dangerous like this --" you gesture down your mostly unclad form, not seeing the Mandalorian's gaze subtly follow, "-- but I can take care of myself. I had to, for a long time. I was in control, not him."

"I know." His voice comes out cold; he's struggling to keep himself from unloading all his confusion and dismay on you at once. "I do trust you, Cyar'ika. I just...."

You wait, but it's like waiting for a stone wall to open up for you.

Nothing gives.

Normally you would gently cajole that stone wall into eventually breaking down, but you just don't have the capacity to do so at the moment.

"I'll be in the 'fresher if you need me," you sigh, turning away. "I need a shower and a change of clothes."

He says nothing, and you don't invite him along.

For the first time in a while, the silence that falls between you two is taut, barely stretched over spiking emotions that are too rampant to reach the air.

The feeling of hot water pounding into your skin clears your head as it always does, letting your patience recharge and your frustrations bleed away down the drain. Sense slowly begins to reclaim your thoughts, and you let your mind drift as you wash away the scent of smoke and spice, your fingertips trailing absently across your body as new questions rise of their own accord.

You can't understand why you feel disappointed.

The job went well. It doesn't matter in the wider scheme of things whether you were the one to acquire the asset or Din, not really. You both get paid the same.

Were you simply hoping for more of a reaction to your dancer outfit from your laconic partner?

Your hand slips in the water, brushes over your ribcage. It's one of your favorite places to find Din's hands lingering when the two of you are half-awake in bed, your skin sensitive enough there that the calluses on his fingertips still raise shivers from you every time.

But to your disgust, this time it isn't his hand you feel on your body, but the memory of a much different hand, one with overlong nails searching for something that isn't meant for it. A hand that's been dead for over an hour now, but the sensation is still there, and not only there, but trailing down your neck, slithering around your waist, loitering a moment too long atop your thigh, and you can't keep back the sound of horror that forces its way up your throat.

You feel disgusting and helpless with the mere idea of those hands crawling your body.

And all you know is you need it gone now.

Desperately.

So as the sensations continue to heighten unpleasantly, you do the only thing you can think of.

"...Din?"

His footsteps are swift, and he's in the 'fresher before you even need to call for him a second time. You can see his hulking dark form outlined through the frosted door panel.

"What's wrong?" He sounds concerned.

"I...." You pause and take a deep breath. "I need you, Din. Please."

He doesn't protest, doesn't question you. The lights go out and you hear the clack of the beskar as he strips and sets it aside. Scant moments later, he's under the water with you, solid and familiar and radiating heat, and you're suddenly so needy for his touch it's all you can do to keep from throwing yourself at him.

"What do you want from me?" he breathes, water dripping from his hair down to your face.

"You." Most times you're a playful flirt, but this time you have no room left for games. You just want him to remind you who you really belong to. There will be time for other things later. "I want to feel your hands on me, Din. I need to get the feeling of that miserable scum off of me. Touch me, please."

He pulls you into him, a tad more roughly than usual. "Where, Cyar'ika?"

You melt into the welcome haven of his chest, your hands immediately finding their way to some of the more distinctive scars that ridge his skin. "Anywhere you want, my Love."

He's ravenous in his compliance, all but devouring you with his touch, lips joining his hands as he focuses first on your throat and shoulders.

It's as if he's as desperate for the contact as you are, and suddenly his strange actions become clear to you, as his hands flawlessly overrun all of the places where the other man had been.

He took note of every single unwelcome caress, each one still burning in his mind's eye, each movement of foreign hands a wrong against you and him that cries out to be righted.

And so he follows that path diligently, his heated touch obliterating any claim that vermin tried to make on his sacred space, reconquering everything you offer him like the Mandalorians of old.

You're surrounded by him, blind in the dark and the steadily falling water, held flush against his body, your senses reduced to purely touch and hearing as he growls broken phrases in Mando'a into your skin.

"I've never seen you so territorial," you huff out in a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your lips, as his pause in their journey across the landscape of you.

"Why?" you ask the well-loved chamber of his mouth.

"For my actions. I let my jealousy rule me in the moment and I offended you." He lifts you in his arms, your back resting against the 'fresher wall and your arms wrapping around his neck. You settle into the new position with a happy hum, letting your hips kiss his and feeling his hands slide down the backs of your thighs in reply.

"But seeing that son of a Hutt with his hands all over you like that --" his forehead comes to rest against yours. "That did something to me I can't explain."

One of your hands finds its way into his hair as the other gently scratches across his muscular back, making him sigh.

"Thank you, Din."

You can FEEL the curious eyebrow raise.

"For caring so much. For coming to my rescue when I need you -- every time. Next time," you add, mischief creeping back into your tone, "we can reverse the roles, if you'd rather. I can think of a lot of people who'd pay an exorbitant amount for a dancing Mandalorian. Think of that -- you, dressed in that get-up, but with the helmet still on, of course -- that would intrigue any crime lord, all right."

"You sound like you've imagined that more times than you should have," he chides teasingly.

Your only response is a soft laugh, though you do press yourself more insistently against him and give his hair a suggestive tug.

"Hmm. Someone's still not satisfied." He lets you slide from his embrace back to the floor, and you whine with disappointment, though to your relief all echoes of unwanted hands have dissipated.

Now you're just left hungry for more of HIM.

"Hush, Mesh'la, I'm not refusing you." The extra grit in his lowered voice suggests he wants more as well. His thumb brushes across your lips, rough and sensual. "I just think it would be more...pleasant to finish this in my quarters, don't you? Cold water and romance don't always go so well together if the heat runs out."

You nip at his thumb and smirk. "Thinking as always, Djarin."

"About you, at any rate." He falls quiet abruptly as he pulls away, as if abashed that such a flippant admission actually left his lips.

You laugh and duck back under the water. "Go. Get your hair dry and whatever else you need so I don't see your face. I'll get out when I hear you leave."

He starts to open the door, then suddenly thinks twice and is upon you once again, his fingers digging into the softness of your hips and his lips grazing your collarbone.

"You're beautiful," he grates out in a rush. "And I can't stop thinking about you in that costume. I just thought you should know that."

You sigh into his firm hold, a sinful idea taking delightful shape in your mind.

"How about I dance for you then, Din Djarin? Would you like to see that, ner'alor?"

The breath leaves his lungs all at once in a sharp exhale. "Yes, Mesh'la. Dance for me."

When he finally goes, you're left to finish your shower with an overwhelming ache for him and some very tempting plans turning over in your head.

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian; separated from one's heritage

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #female reader #romance #steamy #comfort #suggestive #hes my husband #possessive #bounty hunter #shower scene #I love when he gets flustered he's so cute #obsessed with him

[nonranghaes]

heads up: mentions of christmas decorations + implied some sort of vague celebration there.

"hey, our tree's still up."

vernon states the obvious as he walks out of the kitchen, nodding toward the small christmas tree that the two of you put up last month. he's got a candy cane in his hand, lips wrapped around the long end as he looks around and notices that your apartment is still littered with christmas decorations. he pauses, looking to where you're draped across the couch, clearly exhausted from life.

"and?"

"it's january." he says after smacking his lips together for dramatic effect, waving the candy cane toward you. "also, we still have a ton of these."

"and?"

he sits on you. vernon doesn't even think twice about it. this is the man you're in love with, and you just poke his side as he looks at you again, still eating the damn candy cane. "just thought i'd point it out."

"are you going to take all of this stuff down?" you crane your neck to look around again. it's not that bad, is it? there's some decorations around, and it's not like you two are having anyone over in the near future--and even if you did, you don't think most of his friends would point it out. "or do you want me to pick a day, or--"

"just thought i'd point it out," he says again, shifting a little. he extends the curved end of the candy cane to you, only to watch you wrinkle your nose. "what?"

"i don't eat those. why do you think we have so many?"

"oh." he pauses, looking down at the candy. "i'll pawn 'em onto seungkwan."

"ugh, i love you," you hook a finger into one of his belt loops. "you're a godsend, even when you're crushing me."

he just chuckles, content as he glances at you. then he pauses. "it's kinda nice, though."

"is it?" you eye him warily. you never really considered yourselves the kind of couple that leaves decorations up this long--life simply got in the way this time around.

"... nah, let's take it down soon."

#nonranghaes.thoughts #seventeen x reader #nonranghaes.svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #svt imagine #svt x you #chwe vernon fluff #chwe vernon x reader #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #chwe hansol fluff #chwe hansol x reader

[makethatelevenrings]

Just Friends? // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? yes!

WARNINGS: none

Summary: Jason panicked and told Dick he was dating someone. Now he’s being forced to bring them to family dinner so he turns to his best friend, you, for help.

“You want me to…what?”

The couch dipped beside you and a heavy arm draped across the back. You nudged Jason with your elbow as he crowded up against you and he retaliated by swiping your book out of your hand. Since he didn’t particularly feel like dying again that day, he made sure to slide a bookmark between the pages before he shut it and tossed it onto his coffee table.

“I need you to be my date. To Sunday night dinner.” He said it so simply that you had half the mind to start concussion protocol in case he had landed helmet-first sometime during last night’s patrol. You raised an inquisitive eyebrow and he grinned.

“And this is in relation to…?”

“Dick was trying to set me up with this guy he met at a coffee shop and knowing Dick’s taste in people, I panicked and said I was already dating someone and he insisted that I bring them to meet the family. Because anyone who would date me, and I quote, is a godsend and/or in need of some serious help.”

You hummed and poked his cheek. “What if I’m both?”

“See? You’re perfect.”

You adjusted your seating on the couch so you could face him, one leg tucked under you and the other hanging off the edge of his worn couch. His large hand came down to rest on your thigh and he drew circles against your skin before squeezing gently. You slid one hand to the nape of his neck and played with his hair.

“How on earth are we going to convince your family, the greatest detectives in the world, that we’re a couple?”

You found yourself at Wayne Manor on Sunday with one very antsy vigilante. He kept asking if you remembered the story the two of you had generated and you were very close to throttling him. Two years of friendship and he still didn’t trust your ability to make shit up on the fly.

The heavy oak door swung open, revealing a short kid. He appraised you with a disinterested expression and then delicately sniffed.

“Todd, I see you have brought your lady friend for once.”

“Nice to see you too, Demon Spawn.” Jason ruffled his hair as he passed and the kid swatted his hand, a murderous glare flitting across his face.

“You must be Damian.” You held out your hand and he regarded it coolly before shaking it. “Jay told me you like animals. Remind me later and I’ll show you pictures of my cats.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded and stepped aside. “That is agreeable. Perhaps I can introduce you to Alfred as well.”

You mouthed something akin to isn’t that the butler? to Jason and he snickered as he sidled up to you and slid his hand along your waist. “Butler AND cat. Damian was inspired when he named him.”

“Hmmm, that’s cute. So, one sibling down. How many more to go?”

“Too many.” He leaned down to brush a kiss across your brow. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bird boy.”

Dinner went off without a hitch. Dick declared his love for you the second he met you, Tim was hesitant at first and fully assumed you were actually a mercenary hired by Jason to try and kill him again, Steph gleefully regaled you with stories of Jason slipping and falling off of roofs during patrol, and Cass had laughed when Jason had tried to steal some of Alfred’s famous mashed potatoes off of your plate and you proceeded to launch a fork at him.

Bruce, as expected, just sat quietly.

“Oh, miss, don’t worry about the plates,” Alfred exclaimed when you started stacking up Jason’s dirty dishes onto yours. “I have it handled.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal.”

“Quite alright, miss. It is my job after all.”

You smiled at the kindly butler. “Jason speaks very highly of you. Thank you for always being there for him.”

“Of course, miss. Master Todd has always been a great joy in my life.” You could see the unspoken sorrow that lingered there too and you briefly thought of the jagged, y-shaped scar that spanned the length of his torso. Jason slid his hand in yours and tugged you into another room.

“Movie night,” he explained. “National Treasure, of course.”

“A classic.” He maneuvered you to fall back onto the couch, leaving a space for him between you and Dick. “Ah, shit, let me go get you a blanket.”

“So, how long have you two been dating?” Dick asked when Jason disappeared.

“I’ve known him for two years but we’ve been dating for three months.” It was the agreed upon date you two had come up with last night when you laid on the couch together, a mess of tangled limbs. “He’s my best friend.”

“He better not be trying to replace me.” Dick pouted but Damian tossed a pillow at his head and let out another scoff. The youngest Robin had Alfred the cat in his lap and stroked the cat’s fur like some kind of evil villain in his lair.

“Don’t worry, Dickiebird. No one can replace you,” Jason drawled as he returned with a blanket. He draped it over your lap and then took a seat next to you. “Good?”

“Yeah, thanks Jase.” You knew you wouldn’t last through the movie. In fact, you probably fell asleep twenty minutes in. Your head fell against Jason’s shoulder and he carefully adjusted the blanket to cover your shoulders before running a hand over your hair.

“If you haven’t already,” Bruce said from behind him. “You should tell her you love her.”

Of course, Jason groused. Nothing got past Batman.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #dc imagine #mine

[lavendertales]

SEÑORITA: Chapter 4**

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: Javier agrees to help you fix the pipes at your apartment. though you don't expect to be so affected by his presence there, certainly not when you seem to be friends now.

word count: 5.5k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

chapter warnings: some tension, female masturbation.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

series masterlist | AO3

One might think that after all the loss, bloodshed and destruction witnessed in Colombia, nothing—or very little—would daze Javier. The rough, cruel things, those he’s used to.

What he’s not used to are the little things: small rituals that could make or break his day. So it comes as nearly a shock within the following few weeks when he unknowingly begins a morning ritual with you.

The two of you go to work in the opposite direction of the street; Javier takes his car, you head for the subway. Nonetheless, you began to run into each other as you rushed out the building in the morning. He greeted you with a nod, to which you flashed the typical polite smile down his way and he held the door open for you.

Once, twice, thrice… and before he knew it, he’d been doing it every single morning, five days a week, for over a month. You didn’t exchange pleasantries or talk much, just the occasional “how’s work” and “how have you been”. This was the sole interaction you had with Javier; you never visited each other or even looked for each other. That sole good morning salutation, paired with the bare minimum of holding the door open for you, was the one contact you had with your brother’s best friend.

Yet somehow it became important for Javier to maintain that little morning ritual, otherwise his whole day would just be no good.

Even today, a Sunday, he feels fidgety as he mindlessly cleans the nooks and cracks of his apartment. Is it safe to say that greeting you in the morning has been the highlight of the past four weeks? Sure. Would he do the same thing for any other neighbor, considering there is no serious meaning behind the gesture?

This question remains unanswered.

Mostly because Javier doesn’t want to acknowledge that there is anything special about his morning ritual with you. There isn’t anything special, he reminds himself as he begins to clean the sink. You’re just a neighbor, his friend’s little sister who is very much off limits. And luckily, he doesn’t feel attracted to you, not in the typical way. He’s curious about you and amused by your comebacks towards Steve, oddly mesmerized by your intelligence and determination, but that’s about it.

That’s as far as he’ll let it go.

And you too know your limitations: you never do more than offer than stereotypical polite smile at him, never give him anything which could be interpreted as flirting. You do find him very attractive, but that is simply an objective remark. Matter of fact, neither one of you crosses that invisible line between politeness and flirting.

You choose to spend your Sunday morning a little differently, however; when Sylvie called you at 7 am sharp to let you know she was on her way to have breakfast with you, you grumbled something along the lines of “great, I was totally awake before you called” and jumped out of bed to get ready. Ten minutes later, if the brewing pot of coffee didn’t alert your senses, the incessant buzzing at the door certainly did it.

“You know you can buzz just once, right?” you tell Sylvie.

She shrugs, letting herself in. “What’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes, welcoming her inside nonetheless. Sylvie has been a godsend in all aspects—ever since college, the two of you have been practically inseparable. One could not invite you to a party and not expect Sylvie to show up, and vice versa. You were a little afraid once you graduated, wondering where life would take the two of you and hope that the two of you could stay in touch at least.

Luckily, when Sylvie told you she got a job at the same library you did, you couldn’t have been happier. Things were perfect, and somehow they still managed to remain perfect once Sylvie met Zack. Curiously enough, Zack fit in with the two of you just fine, never making you feel like the third wheel in their relationship, or like he was an extra whenever you and Sylvie required your girl time.

Such as this morning: you and Sylvie enjoy a hearty breakfast together, followed by a much needed cup of coffee, laughing and sharing updates about your lives without any outside distraction.

“Have you talked to Steve since the dinner?” she asks.

“Quite regularly, actually.”

“I really don’t know how you do that.”

“What?”

“Move on like nothing happened. You never really talk about the elephant in the room, so you just let things boil and boil—“

“Syl, it’s just not like us to have sappy conversations. Mostly because he’s so much like mom and dad, he probably won’t ever hear me properly.”

“Baby, that dinner was proof that all this tension you let simmer between you guys for over a decade is brewing at dangerous temperatures now and it’s starting to tip over! You’ll need to have an open and honest conversation at some point.”

You put down your mug and so does Sylvie, staring right at you. She opens her mouth to say something else, probably something smart like always, when her eyes shoot upwards, the hint of the smirk on her face disappearing. Even when confused, there’s just something about her that’s very enthralling, like she’s a piece of art staring off into the distance. You’ve always been a little jealous of how she carried herself so effortlessly and cool, while you had to put on a brave and sarcastic front just to survive in the concrete jungle and let people know you meant business.

“What’s that noise?” she inquires.

“Pipes are acting up again. Other tenants reported the same issue. I called the building manager and he said a guy will get here.”

“Great!”

“Next week.”

She swallows a groan. “Typical.”

“Yeah. Gotta find a faster and better solution. Maybe I can ask Javier. He seems quite handy.”

Instantly, Sylvie raises her brows suggestively, waiting for a continuation on your part. But what she gets is a mere snicker from your side, disapproving and mocking.

“Don’t start,” you warn her.

“You know, I’ve seen this Javier around. Steve’s best friend, right?”

“So it’s been established.”

“What you failed to mention is that he’s ridiculously hot. I’m talking strictly objectively here, of course.”

You frown. “And how is that relevant to the pipe situation?”

“Might be, since you’re considering bringing him into your apartment to ��fix your pipes’.”

“Okay, first of all, theoretically, it’s still our apartment. Your name is still on the lease. Second of all, could you please not say it like that? And lose the air quotes, for fuck’s sake. That’s exactly what I want to ask him. Don’t turn this into something dirty.”

Then Sylvie bursts into laughter, a sound serene and alluring like her, much to your annoyance.

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” she laughs, putting her mug down as well. “You are such a fool.”

“We’re neighbors. Acquaintances through my brother, and maybe—maybe—a tiny friendly, but that’s being generous.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like having him be all handy for you.”

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. “Would you stop it already? It’s literally nothing like that. Besides, he let everyone know that I am not his type, which is great because—“

“Because he’s exactly your type.”

“Uh, no, excuse you, I was into bad boys. Which he is not. Not anymore, at least.”

“Are you kidding me? Hello! That is the sexiest category of bad boys there is!”

Your frown deepens. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sylvie sighs, irritated at your possibly purposeful oblivion, so she stands up and walks around the kitchen, as if trying to compose herself.

“I cannot believe I have to explain this to you since you were the queen of dating bad choices,” she sighs again, “but here we go. A reformed bad guy is the sexiest thing because he wants to put his past behind him and be a better man. He wants to do good things, to be good. And mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good, and then you’re gonna be in big trouble, missy.”

You listen to her all the way through, rummaging her words carefully before deciding that she must’ve been insane. “I was following you in the first half, but then you lost me. This man is super stubborn and way too independent to ask anyone anything.”

Sylvie grins, sitting back down. “Like I said. Mark my words. He’s gonna be on your knees for you, being all ‘teach me how to be good, baby’.”

“You seriously gotta stop. I cannot imagine this ever happening.”

“Really? Not even the part about him being on his knees for you? Cause that’s hot.”

“Syl—“

“Hell, it did things even for me, and you know how grossly in love Zack and I are.”

“Okay, finish your coffee and get out of here.”

“You’re throwing me out?!”

“You said enough shit for one morning.”

Sylvie giggles, and it prompts you to do the same. You do your best to shun all those images about Javier, images you absolutely did not need. Not now, not ever.

Again, there is no denying the objective fact that Javier is a very attractive man. However, there is such a thing as dating bad boys, even reformed ones, and those days are long gone for you. You know better than anyone that those flings never ended well, and how different could it be with someone who’s aware of past mistakes and wants to be a better person?

 Mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good.

Sylvie’s words echo painfully in your head, so you shake your head vehemently to deny their mere existence having been spoken into the world. There’s nothing to worry about, you reassure yourself.

Monday mornings at the library were some of your favorite times ever. There wasn’t a crowd—because yes, this could be a real problem sometimes—which meant you could organize the shelves at your own pace, sip from your coffee, far away from your boss’s eyes, and even read something for yourself if things were really quiet.

So you woke up in a very good mood, managing to ignore the obnoxious noise coming from the pipes whenever you used water—while you still had it, that is—and went downstairs. To your surprise, there was no sign of Javier this morning. You didn’t want to wait around like some kind of creep or even like someone who’d acknowledge that the reason why you were waiting was something bigger, so after roughly a minute you made your way into the street and towards the subway.

You were a tiny disappointed that you and Javier didn’t get through your little morning ritual, mostly because you wanted to ask him if he could help you out with the pipes in your apartment. There was no way you’d last in this state till the end of the week, and by then, it was highly probably that you’d run out of water too.

So you take a mental note to stop by his place after work and ask him if he has some time to help you out.

“Still not thinking about what I told you yesterday morning?”

You raise your eyes from the book you’ve been reading to find Sylvie’s smirk waiting for you. With another roll of your eyes, you close the book and stare disapprovingly at her.

“About what, exactly?” you retort.

“Handsome guys on their knees—“

“Stop it.”

“So… yes.”

Her smirk turns into a bright smile, one that you could not be less impressed of.

“Is there a point to this conversation or…?”

“Of course. You’ve got a handsome customer waiting at the counter.”

You frown. “Why didn’t you help him out?”

“I’m on organizing duty in the back. Sorry.”

You exhale, heading to the front whilst mumbling several cuss words at Sylvie. God, you love her to death but sometimes she can be so relentless with all of her damn—

“Javier?”

You’re more surprised than you were this morning, that’s for sure; you exchange a glare with him, noticing he’s not sharing your sentiment.

“Hola, seño—“

He stops himself, pursing his lips together and following up with your name and nothing else.

“Hi,” you smile, albeit your unremitting confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“People usually come to these places to get books, so… I’m here to try that, too.”

“I meant more like, what are you doing at this library?”

“I’m on my lunch break and Murphy did mention you worked nearby so I figured I’d stop by for some books.”

You nod slowly, returning to your usual customer voice. “Okay then. What can I help you with today, Javier?”

“Do you have any Pablo Neruda books?”

Eyes wide and mouth parted, you stare at Javier for what feels like minutes on end, trying to acknowledge what you just heard.

“You read Pablo Neruda?” you can’t help but ask.

You also realize that you must look incredibly shocked, which could be deemed offensive to him, and yet it seems that Javier is ready to burst into laughter, even as he frowns at you.

“Why is that surprising?”

“It’s not, it’s just—I wouldn’t have expected you to read love poems.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’d expect someone visibly soft and kind, a hopeless romantic, to read love poems. If you are like that, you’re very good at hiding it. Or rather you really don’t like showing it.”

Javier gulps, avoiding your eyes for a little bit.

“Hit a nerve?” you check.

“Kind of. I wanna say you read me like a book but—“

You chuckle, making a sign for him to follow you. “Anything specific from Neruda you’re looking for? We got some of his work here.”

“Cien Sonetos de Amor. One Hundred Love Sonnets.”

“Have you always read love poems?”

“Not always. Since I came back from Colombia, a whole lot more though. They’re… hopeful, I guess. And soothing. Is that weird?”

You smile, thankful that you’re in front of him so he doesn’t notice that.

“Not at all,” you reply. “It’s wonderful, if anything. I haven’t met any guy who willingly read love poems. Especially not someone I’ve heard is some sort of bad boy.”

“Reformed.”

“Right.”

A reformed bad guy is the sexiest thing because he wants to put his past behind him and be a better man.

He wants to do good things, to be good.

You quickly shake your head, denying Sylvie’s words. She might be right, but this is not what it’s happening here.

“So you’re secretly a romantic?” you joke, perusing through the N shelf.

You hear him draw a heavy breath, which prompts you to turn around to look at him. You think you detect a hint of sadness on his face, but you could be mistaken. You don’t know him that well, after all.

But you do wish you could be there as a friend at least. He does look like he needs a confidant.

“I don’t know,” Javier eventually replies, his voice distant when he does.

“Surely you had at least one relationship that could confirm or infirm that theory.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And… I don’t know if I am.”

“Didn’t you love her?”

“I loved her. I was just not… in love with her.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly you’re thinking that the reason why Javier reads love poems isn’t necessarily because he’s romantic, but maybe for research. Maybe he wants to better himself by knowing more about intimacy and relationships and how it’s perceived by the opposite gender.

He wants to do good things, to be good.

“Here you are,” you announce, handing him the book. “Cien Sonetos de Amor, 1959, paperback.”

Upon noticing the look on Javier’s frown, you take a step back and stare at him.

“What?”

“N-Nothing. You just—your Spanish pronunciation is really good.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone pronounce the words so clearly, so…”

He gulps, choosing not to finish the sentence and definitely not to recall how you basically had your hand in his pants without anyone really noticing.

“Thanks,” he clears his throat. “For the book.”

“Anything else you need?”

He falters; for a single fucking second that freezes in time, he falters.

“No, I’m good.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a favor. If you have the time and patience, obviously.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not sure if this is happening in your apartment too, but there’s a pipe maintenance situation going on. Or lack of maintenance thereof.”

“I did hear some funny noises, yeah.”

“I called the building manager and he said someone will come by the end of the week but I’m afraid I’ll run out of water. Any chance you’re good with pipes?”

Javier opens his mouth to respond, coming to acknowledge the fact that this is foreign territory: him coming to your apartment, even if to help you, is something hard to explain. Just picturing the explanation to Steve is equal parts hilarious and troublesome.

No, yeah, I went over there just to help clean her pipes. Drained them out entirely. Nothing else happened.

But he doesn’t need to justify his help offering to Steve, does he? It’s innocent.

“You’re in luck,” Javier announces. “I know my way around a house.”

“Secretly a romantic and good with housework? Hard to believe you’re not fighting off the ladies right now.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t be going through this shitty ass dry spell.”

Fuck. Why did he say that? He shouldn’t have said it ever, much less in a public library or to you. Luckily you just seem amused.

“You too huh?” you chuckle.

“Wait, you too?”

“A year and a half. You?”

“A year and two months.”

“This is… interesting. No idea why I just confessed to this here, or to you.”

“Maybe we do have some things in common.”

“No people to sleep with? Great common ground to start on.”

You both chuckle, eyes straying away from each other though. You feel that if you look at him now, you acknowledge the fact that there is a simple solution for the biological need you’re feeling, and that you both have the same idea, but know that it would only complicate things and that you should not go down that road.

Even if it would be a great distraction if nothing else.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat this time around, “here you are, sir. One Pablo Neruda book, 19.99.”

Javier hands you a twenty dollar bill, you cash it, give him the receipt with a smile. Your fingers accidentally graze against each other and you both pull away abruptly, oddly embarrassed as if every little thing that happens to you isn’t a normal occurrence, but rather on purpose.

Could it be because of Steve’s warning to Javier, constantly booming in the back of your heads? Did he really get to you that bad that you viewed any regular interaction as a threat? And a threat to what? Fun? A potentially good relationship, or friendship?

“Is it okay if you stop by tonight?” you ask him.

“Sure.”

“I should be home by six.”

“Then I’ll see you at seven.”

“Great. Thank you, Javier.”

Seven p.m. Plenty of time to prepare mentally.

You had enough time to take an improvised, super quick shower, arrange things in the apartment and—wait. Somehow the waiting around is causing your head to spin for whatever reason, so you decide to at least make some dinner. Maybe Javier will be hungry too by the time he gets here.

When the doorbell rings, you twitch. It’s involuntary, a reaction from deep within your conscious. You’re not sure why, it’s not like you plan to do anything devious or mischievous in any way.

Or maybe it’s just the notion that you got an attractive man visiting you in your private quarters, which hasn’t happened in almost two years. And truth be told, that one time wasn’t really exciting. At first, sure, but the whole experience just felt wrong.

“Hi,” you say as you open the door.

“Hi.”

“Come on in.”

Javier does, and he takes a look around. The place is shiny, as clean as he would’ve expected, hints of pale lavender around the walls. You fleetingly remark that he’s still dressed from work, wearing a black suit with white shirt and a navy blue tie.

“Can you tell I’m a fan of purple?” you joke.

“It adds color, it’s nice.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Are you hungry? I made some roasted vegetables and chicken breast.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t—“

“You don’t—what? Eat?”

Javier smiles embarrassedly, eventually agreeing for a plate of food. This isn’t so bad, he thinks. It’s just dinner with a neighbor, and he’s here to help said neighbor with an impending emergency.

But the moment he takes the first bites out of the food laid on the plate before him, it takes everything in his willpower to not groan at the culinary delight that’s in his mouth.

“Wow,” he munches instead. “This is… amazing.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“We don’t really know each other but I think you know by now that I don’t ever say shit I don’t mean.”

“Fair point. I’m glad you like it.”

“This is seriously amazing. Were you always a good cook?”

“Shockingly, no. learned early in my twenties so that Sylvie, my best friend, and I don’t starve. Students surviving solely on noodles or bags of chips it’s just not healthy.”

“If you cooked like this, it’s more than healthy. Shit, I don’t think I’ve had such a great meal since I was a teenager.”

Your smile widens, simultaneously at the compliment and at picturing a young Javier at the dinner table with his family, eagerly devouring the food.

“Thank you,” you coo. “I take it you didn’t get to enjoy many home cooked meals in Colombia?”

“Not really, no. Not unless Connie and Steve invited me over or I went to restaurant, but the latter wasn’t a common occurrence.”

You notice the bleak expression on his face and you refrain yourself from asking more questions. You eat in silence, exchanging the occasional glare, and you feel a dark cloud resting above Javier, as if it’s always with him.

“I’m sorry if I hit a nerve asking about Colombia,” you apologize. “I know from Steven that it was a very dark time and… it’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m trying to hide anything.”

“But you don’t like talking about it.”

“Not in particular, no.”

“Okay. Then how about we finish here and see what we can do about the pipes?”

“Great idea.”

You don’t get to protest when he cleans the table and starts doing the dishes. You try to, but he does it so fast you don’t even fully process that he’s doing it. Instead, you thank him and steal the occasional glance at the mystery man in your kitchen.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” you offer, regretting it the moment it came out of your mouth.

“Uh… it’s fine. Shouldn’t drink tonight.”

“Right. Probably not a good idea since you’re working with tools.”

Yeah. That’s why.

You open the door to the cabinet beneath the sink and hand him the toolbox you had prepared when you rushed home, and let him do the job. Your throat feels ridiculously dry when you see Javier rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, thus exposing his forearms. You feel the need to talk; this way, you’ll be able to control those pesky thoughts that begin to run free throughout your mind right about now.

“Thank you so much for helping me out with this,” you say. “How are you good at this, by the way?”

“Growin’ up I used to help my pop a lot around the ranch.”

“Grew up on a ranch, did ya?”

“Sure did. Laredo, Texas.”

You could hear a little bit of accent earlier, but you try your hardest to not focus on it at the moment. It’s a slippery slope from that to… other things.

“What’s it like in Laredo?”

“Hot as hell.”

You giggle against your better judgment, avoiding looking too intensely at the way his biceps flexed under the shirt as he screwed the nails harder.

“But it can be beautiful too,” he continues, a slight groan leaving his throat as he does so.

“Why did you leave then?”

Javier makes brief eye contact with you, and you instantly feel remorse. “Sorry,” you whisper. “None of my business.”

“I don’t mind. It’s just—no one’s ever asked me aside from Steve and Connie.”

“So what you mean is… no woman you were seeing has ever asked personal questions about you.”

“You got me.”

“Regardless, I really appreciate your help. You’re a cheaper option than calling the handyman myself. No offense.”

“None was taken until just now.”

You allow your eyes to fall to his arms, feeling your heart race a little faster. It’s just the dry spell talking, you remind yourself.

“I could still pay you though,” you try to joke.

Javier glares at you from under the sink, a dark look in his eyes, one that seemingly thinks about devouring you wholly, and you shudder.

“Cash only,” he replies, “and I’ll need a down payment. Other types of payment are accepted."

“Not gonna sleep with you.”

“You’re missin’ out.”

“I’m good.”

“So am I.”

You laugh, audible and hearty, and Javier smiles as well, grateful to be under there where your visibility to him is limited.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he changes the subject instead.

You grin. “Why, are you asking me out?”

“I’m good.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Just makin’ conversation.”

“Well, since you asked, Connie and Steve suggested getting some drinks and dancing. In reality, I’m pretty sure it’s a setup for a blind date, but I am prepared to let the guy down gently if that’s the case.”

There’s a bitter taste in Javier’s mouth, even as he keeps switching the nails on the pipes and grunts in the process. He feels the sweat accumulating at his temples and trickling down his neck and chest, causing his shirt to cling to the skin a little bit, but he doesn’t care.

“You’re dating then,” he says, voice hoarse.

“No. But I figured I can at least be polite and hear the guy out.”

“Right, yeah.”

“You can come too if you want.”

The snort Javier lets out is mocking, and you realize as much.

“To witness your date?” he keeps mocking. “Why would I wanna do that?”

“I meant to join us for drinks. But now that you mention it, maybe if I show up with you, then I won’t have to go through with the blind date.”

“So… what, you want me to pretend to be your date? That costs extra.”

“Just—be there. Or not. Whatever you choose. But you do realize this might involve dancing, right?”

“I can handle it.”

Shook, you scooch down to catch at least a glimpse of his face. “You dance?”

“I suddenly regret ever telling you anything.”

You laugh, even heartier and crystal clear, and it’s such a pleasant sound to Javier’s ears, even underneath the sink, in that bizarre and crowded place, he still smiles.

“You should regret it, Texas, cause I’m definitely using this against you. as friends to, of course.”

“We’re friends now?”

You shrug, unbeknownst to him. “I’d say so. You ate my food, we shared some information about each other and now you’re fixing my pipes. I’d say this is what friends do.”

“Alright. Friends.”

“Unless you’re incapable of befriending a woman.”

“I’m not.”

The exchanges continue, with you and Javier teasing each other almost relentlessly for nearly another hour. Gradually you steal more than glances at Javier; at some point you downright stare, obnoxiously so, but without a clue from his side. It feels forbidden to even glare at his strong arms flexing, stretching the white shirt covering what you can only assume is golden brown skin, but you can’t really stop yourself. You only look away when Javier shifts in the slightest or when it looks that you might make eye contact, but otherwise you feel like a hawk stalking its prey, listening to its call.

And the way Javier calls out to you right now, unknowingly and unwillingly, is through grunts and little beads of sweat and muscly arms. It hits one of your weakest spots, and you cannot deprive yourself of at least this image, regardless of how indecent it might feel to blatantly stare.

You cannot deny in this moment that you feel deeply attracted to him, and that the dry spell definitely impacts your thinking. You barely think of anything coherent to tell Javier on his way out other than what now feel like meaningless thank you’s, so you resort to walking him out with a polite smile and ask if he plans to join the three of your for drinks over the weekend. He says he might take you up on that offer, and all you can see is the way sweat clings to his now semi-buttoned shirt.

When you’re alone in the apartment again, you exhale at long last, denying yourself a glass of wine that you crave because there is a much urgent need to be taken care of.

Time seems to stand still as you dim the lights and lay on the bed, your fingers nearly twitching in anticipation. You try your best to empty your mind as you bury your fingers in the hot, wet bundle of nerves between your legs. That first stretch is delicious, needy, and all but begging for immediate release. A soft gasp escapes your parched mouth, unwanted images plaguing your mind with each thrust of your digits, growing more and more impatient. You deny the existence of those images, yet they still flood your mind and body no matter what you do.

You don’t normally think of anyone in particular when you’re bringing pleasure to yourself, you never have; but now, your body is completely afire reminiscing of Javier’s strong arms, biceps bulging beneath the thin white shirt, his little grunts, sweat collecting at his temples and on his forehead dripping dangerously south to his neck. Your fingers work on their own accord, moving faster and alternating between thrusts and circles around your clit. You arch your back, imagining the same arms pinning you down, those thick digits of Javier’s being buried in your cunt instead, and a jolt of pleasure tingles your spine, prickling your skin.

Eyes closed still, the images of your mind get more vivid and now Javier’s darkened figure rests above you, both your bodies joined together and an overwhelming sensation of fulfillment. Though a ghost sensation, you’ve never felt this full, all stuffed with Javier’s cock, his palms gently cradling your face. You imagine him to be a mixture of rough and soft, always attentive to his partner’s needs.

You’re so close now—so fucking close it’s damnable considering what you’re thinking about: Javier burying himself inside of you to the hilt, balls deep, till there’s physically no space left for him to be inside you, and yet you’d still beg for more. You’d beg for more of his cock and his hands, more of his mouth, any part of him he’d wish to share with you. You’d beg him to make you come however he likes it, self-esteem long abandoned after your second or third orgasm. You’d beg him to come inside you, to milk every droplet he’d have to spare and to feel both your arousal dripping from your swollen pussy.

At long last, you come, an unexpected sound staining your lips.

“Ja—Jav…”

It’s a repeated sound, something throated and raw, animalistic even, and it shocks you to your core. It shocks you when you begin to settle down, your body temporarily sated. It feel wrong on all accounts, forbidden and so damnable. There’s a faint taste of blood as you bite on your lips and beg your mind and body to not finish the rest of that ecstatic sound. You’ve never came this messily on your own, especially not whilst thinking of someone. You remove your fingers from your heat, now slick with arousal and a filthy proof of your forbidden desire.

Fuck. What did this man do to you?

No. No, it’s not about him. You’re going through a dry spell and he’s just the recipient of a biological need. If you would’ve met an equally attractive guy and have interacted with him on the daily, this would’ve most likely happened as well.

It’s just something biological. It’s not about your brother’s best friend. It can’t be.

Can it?

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tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @spidermanfrog

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña smut #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #narcos smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #señorita series

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 1: Going Home

In the small barn situated in a quaint rural Wisconsin town, you stood behind the Holstein cow, your task just completed. You carefully peeled off the long blue disposable veterinary glove, a necessary tool for checking if cows, or even horses, were pregnant. With a practiced motion, you tossed the glove into the nearby blue bucket, a routine part of your work in veterinary care. The rustic environment of the barn, the sound of animals nearby, and the smell of hay and livestock created a familiar and comforting atmosphere.

"Well, Hank. She's due any day now," You state, stepping out of the stall. In your jeans, rubber boots, and flannel shirt, you fit right in, despite the stray wisps of chestnut hair escaping your French braid.

Hank, an elderly man dressed in blue jean overalls and a flannel shirt, acknowledged your evaluation with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Doc. I'm not sure how I can repay you…hold on a moment. I recently had a pig butchered. I can offer you some of that meat," he proposed, his weary gray eyes brightening with the suggestion.

"Only if it won't affect your winter provisions. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in any way."

"No, we're set for now. We still have some meat left from the two deer my sons hunted last fall."

Extending your hand, you replied, "That's more than fair. It'll also take care of any future issues you might have with Mildred."

Gratefully, he clasped your hand in his. "Ever since you arrived here, Doc, you've been a godsend. I can't imagine what we'd do without your help."

You exchanged a firm handshake.

"Remember to call me if there's anything else you need, alright?"

"I sure will. Thanks once more."

Picking up your bucket, you made your way out of the barn and towards your truck.

You positioned your bucket at the rear of your truck, swung open the door, and settled into the driver's seat. Retrieving your cellphone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail from your husband. As you closed your eyes, you took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. His communications typically revolved around financial matters, prompting you to wonder about the nature of this particular call.

You tapped the voicemail icon on your iPhone and listened:

"Y/N, it's me. I'm just calling to inform you that I'm on my way back. Not to Texas, though, but to Wisconsin. I'll be landing at Rusk County Airport, aiming to arrive by around 6 p.m. tonight. I'll see you then."

After the message ended, you disconnected the call.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin busied himself packing his travel bag, which lay sprawled on his bed.

"Just to clarify," began Javy 'Coyote' Machado, his best friend, with a tone of disbelief, "you've got a place in Wisconsin?"

"Yup," Jake affirmed.

"And you've never actually set foot in it?"

"Nope," Jake responded, keeping his focus on his packing.

"And who looks after this house?"

"My wife does," Jake said nonchalantly.

Coyote's eyes widened in surprise. "You're married?"

"Yes," Jake replied simply.

Coyote took a moment, the weight of Jake's revelation sinking in. "Hold on, Jake. We've been friends for nearly ten years. And in all that time, you've never once mentioned that you were married, or even hinted at it."

"Well, I am," Jake said matter-of-factly, continuing with his packing.

Coyote, in disbelief, threw his hands up and scanned the room. "Okay, then who is she? And how come there aren't any photos of her around here?"

"We've both had a lot on our plates," Jake replied, finishing his packing with a zip of the bag.

"But how busy can a married couple be to not even see each other?" Coyote pressed.

"She's been occupied with her studies," Jake explained.

"Studies? What, is she training to be a doctor or something?"

Jake remained silent for a moment, his face giving away nothing.

"You're serious? She's actually a doctor?"

Picking up his bag, Jake finally responded, "She was studying to become a large animal veterinarian."

Coyote, visibly taken aback, managed to stutter, "I just... I'm at a loss for words."

Jake, shifting his focus to the task at hand, asked, "You still up for driving me to the airport?"

"Of course," Coyote replied, still processing the revelation.

"Great. Then let's hit the road." Jake motioned towards the door, ready to embark on his journey.

Steering your black Ford F-250, you navigated the lengthy driveway leading to your residence. This log cabin, a product of an inheritance and some astute financial decisions, had been your project three years prior.

As the cabin came into view, you admired the expansive structure that occupied thirty acres of farmland you had acquired. Beyond it lay a sizable horse stable, complete with an attached training ring, a testament to your love for animals.

Approaching the house, you pressed the button to activate the garage door. The door of the 4-car garage rolled open, and you smoothly parked your truck inside, ready to disembark.

You reached over to the passenger side to grab your backpack, then opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Heading towards the door that led into the house, you moved with a purpose, the sound of the garage door closing behind you echoing in the spacious enclosure.

This door opened into the mudroom, which was equipped with a fully functional laundry room, a bathroom, a pet washing station, and ample storage space. As you let your backpack fall to the floor, your cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, you saw it was your mother-in-law calling. Pressing the answer button, you greeted her warmly while switching the phone to speaker mode.

"Hi, Cindy," you said, freeing your hands as you continued your entry routine.

"Y/N, how are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"Just fine," she replied.

"So, you understand why I'm calling then?"

You released a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down. "Yes. He called and left a voicemail."

"Y/N, he still loves you." Cindy's voice carried a mix of hope and concern.

As you settle onto the bench and begin to remove your boots, you respond, "I know."

Cindy probes further, sensing your hesitation, "That doesn't sound very convincing."

With a slight shake of your head, you reply, "Well, sometimes Jake isn't very convincing either."

"Just take things slow," Cindy advises gently. "I believe all you both need is some time together again."

"I'll do my best," you promise, the conversation steering towards a hopeful possibility.

Cindy's voice softened further, her tone imbued with the wisdom of experience. "I understand that it's been difficult, and there might be a lot of unresolved feelings between you two. But remember, love is about finding your way back to each other, even through the toughest times."

You paused, absorbing her words. It was clear she spoke from a place of deep understanding and perhaps her own experiences. "You're right, Cindy. It's just… hard to know where to start."

"Start with honesty," she suggested. "Open up to each other about your feelings, fears, and hopes. It's the foundation you can build on. And remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you, supporting you both."

Your smile reflects a moment of gratitude. "Thanks, Cindy." Glancing at your watch, a sense of urgency creeps in. "I need to go. It's already 5 o'clock, and I've only just got back from work. Jake mentioned he'd be flying in at 6."

"Alright, dear. Please keep me updated on how things go. Oh, and thank you again for the horse fly repellent. It's been working wonders."

"Of course, I'll let you know. And you're welcome. Take care, talk to you later," you say, wrapping up the conversation. After hanging up the phone, you pick up your backpack and make your way to your bedroom, ready to prepare for what comes next.

After managing to squeeze in a quick shower, you slipped into some clean clothes. With the temperature taking a dip, you opted for a pair of jeans, a heavyweight sweatshirt, and hiking shoes to keep comfortable. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, practical for the drive. Steering your Expedition, you headed towards the local airport to meet Jake.

Aware that Jake piloted a Cirrus plane—a fact made all the more personal by your having paid off the aircraft this year—you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension about the reunion.

Turning onto the road that led to the airport, you soon arrived and parked your truck outside your hangar, ready to greet him.

Casting a look at your watch, you noted it was ten minutes to 6. A memory flashed through your mind, a reminder of one of your husband's traits: Jake was always punctual.

As you closed your eyes, your head resting gently against the headrest, a vivid memory began to surface, transporting you back to the moment you first met Jake:

You stepped through the doors of the rustic bar in Austin, Texas. Your college friend Avery right next to you.

"It's only one night. We deserve it after yesterday," she said.

The rustic bar was alive with the energy of live music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was exactly what you needed after the grueling exams that had consumed your life for the past few weeks. Avery, ever the instigator of your small adventures, was right; a night of unwinding was long overdue.

Navigating through the bustling crowd toward the bar, you felt a sudden nudge that almost set you off, ready to confront whoever was behind it. But that impulse faded the moment you turned around, finding yourself looking into the most captivating green eyes you had ever seen.

The surprise of the encounter rendered you momentarily speechless. The owner of those captivating green eyes was quick to apologize, his voice a warm, deep timbre that seemed to echo directly to your core.

"Sorry about that," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "This place is a bit more crowded than I expected."

You found your voice, albeit a little shaky from the unexpected jolt of attraction. "It's okay, really. I should have been watching where I was going."

He chuckled, and it was a sound that made you want to hear more of it, to keep him talking just so you could listen. "I'm Jake," he extended his hand, the action both friendly and bold.

Taking his hand, you felt a surprising jolt of electricity at the contact. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Y/N. You here to see anyone in particular tonight?" Jake asked, his gaze still locked with yours, as if the crowded bar around you had faded into the background.

"Just here to unwind with a friend," you replied, gesturing toward where Avery had found a spot at the bar, seemingly engaged in trying to order drinks.

Jake nodded, understanding. "This place is perfect for that, but you're not from around here."

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head slightly, impressed by his observation. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's the accent."

You chuckled, self-consciously touching your throat as if you could feel your accent there. "I guess it's a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Only a little," Jake teased, his eyes twinkling with humor. "But it's a good thing. Makes you stand out." He thought a second. "Sounds a bit midwestern to me almost Canadian."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "That specific, huh? Well, you're not wrong. I'm actually from Wisconsin, so you're pretty close with the Midwestern guess."

Jake nodded, impressed with himself. "I have an ear for these things. Wisconsin's a beautiful place."

"It is," you agreed, your thoughts briefly wandering back to the familiar landscapes of home.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I'm here for a college class."

"College, huh? What's your major?"

"Veterinarian. I'm a large animal veterinarian."

Jake's interest visibly perked up at your answer. "A large animal vet? That's impressive. There's always a need for folks who can handle the bigger animals, especially around these parts."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and passion for your chosen field. "Yeah, it's been a dream of mine since I was little. I love animals, and getting to help them, especially the larger ones that require a bit more... let's say, finesse, has always been fulfilling for me."

He leaned against the bar, genuinely intrigued. "Sounds like it's more than just a job to you."

"It is," you admitted. "It's about making a difference, however small it may seem. And the connection with the animals... there's something special about it."

Jake smiled, his admiration for your dedication clear. "I can see that. It takes a special kind of person to do what you do. And speaking of making a difference, my family owns a ranch not too far from here. We've got horses, and every now and then, we run into a situation that could use a vet with your expertise."

The mention of his family's ranch piqued your interest. "Really? I'd love to hear more about it. Working with horses has always been a dream of mine."

Just as you were caught in that moment, Avery approached, holding a beer out to you. "Here's your beer," she said, handing it over before her gaze shifted to Jake. "And who's this?"

"Avery, meet Jake. Jake, this is Avery," you made the introductions, facilitating the exchange between your friend and the man with the captivating green eyes.

The sound of a plane engine snapped you out of your reverie, prompting you to open your eyes and gaze skyward. Above the airport, you spotted the small Cirrus plane, unmistakably Jake's. You watched as it gracefully circled above, aligning itself for a smooth approach before finally descending towards the runway in a well-executed landing.

As the plane taxied closer to where your vehicle was parked, you observed the engine powering down. Stepping out of your truck, you began to walk slowly towards the aircraft. The door of the plane opened and out stepped a figure you recognized instantly – a six-foot tall man with dirty blond hair. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes, complemented by a brown leather jacket. It was Jake, finally there in front of you after what felt like an eternity.

But it wasn't the young Jake you remembered, this Jake had turned into a manly Jake. He still had the same piercing green eyes, but his face had turned more rugged, yet still handsome. His presence seemed to exude a quiet strength and a sense of maturity that the younger Jake hadn't possessed. There was an air of confidence about him, tempered with a hint of world-weariness. His green eyes, still as piercing as you remembered, now seemed to carry deeper stories, reflections of experiences and growth. His face, more rugged and lined than before, bore the marks of life's trials and triumphs, adding to his manly allure. Yet, despite the changes, there was an undeniable familiarity in his gaze, a connection to the past that lingered in his expression.

He closed the door when you reached him. "Y/N," he said.

"Jake."

The two of you looked at each other.

You cleared your throat and looked away. "Our hangar is over there." You pointed to the hangar behind your vehicle.

"Our hangar?"

"Yes. I had it built after you purchased the plane."

He looked at you questioningly and then he observed the hangar with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You built that?"

"Yes, it seemed practical for storage and maintenance," you explained, maintaining a professional tone despite the undercurrent of emotions swirling between you.

Jake took a moment to absorb this information, his gaze shifting from the hangar back to you. "That's... impressive. Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation mixed with the awkwardness of the moment.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling the complexity of the situation. After a brief pause, you added, "Shall we get the plane stored?"

He nodded, a silent agreement to focus on the task at hand, perhaps both of you grateful for a momentary diversion from the emotional reunion.

"You can put your bags in the truck. It's unlocked. I'll go open the hangar and get the tow bar."

""How about I assist you with opening the hangar and retrieving the tow bar once I've put my bags in the truck?"

"That's fine," you agreed since you had no clue what you were doing anyways. You watched as Jake went to the other side of the plane and grabbed four bags.

You quickly made your way to Jake's plane and grabbed two of the bags and then placing the bags in the back of the Expedition. Jake did the same with the other two and then started walking towards the hangar. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was all new to you, and the prospect of being involved in something as unfamiliar as handling a plane was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

After securing the bags, you walked towards the hangar, where Jake was already busy. As you approached, he looked up and gave you a brief nod, acknowledging your presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him work. He moved with a practiced ease, clearly familiar with every aspect of the aircraft and the hangar.

"Need a hand?" you asked, eager to learn and help.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Sure. Could you grab the other end of this tow bar?" He held out one end of a long, metal bar to you.

You took the offered end, feeling its weight. Jake guided you on how to position it correctly, explaining how it was used to move the plane. Together, you maneuvered the bar into place and began the task of towing the aircraft into the hangar.

As you worked alongside Jake, you appreciated the quiet efficiency with which he operated. There was a sense of competence and confidence about him that you found reassuring. It was clear that he was in his element here, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his skills.

Once the plane was safely in the hangar, Jake secured everything and turned to you. "Thanks for the help. Not everyone would jump in like that."

You shrugged modestly, feeling a small sense of pride. "Happy to learn something new. And it's not every day I get to say I helped tow a plane."

His chuckle resonated warmly in the hushed atmosphere of the hangar. "Well, you did a fantastic job."

"Thanks," you responded with a bashful smile. "Uh, dinner should be all set by the time we get back."

"You made dinner?"

"Not exactly. His name is Chuck. I encountered him during a trip to Wyoming."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "Another man is living in my house?!"

You sighed. "I honestly don't know how to answer that because you really haven't even seen our house."

Jake ran a hand through his hair turning away and then turned back to you. "I never cheated on you, Y/N. I came here to work on our marriage. You could've at least told me."

You looked at him. "I'm sorry. I forgot, my husband hasn't really contacted me for four years. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, that I needed help running a ranch."

Jake stared at you.

"Chuck is my chef and, I guess, butler. He helps around the ranch."

Jake's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "You have a chef and a butler now?"

You nodded, trying to keep your tone even. "Yes, Jake. Running the ranch alone has been tough. Throw in my hours as a Veterinarian, you never know. Chuck has been a huge help, not just in the kitchen but around the property too. He's been indispensable, especially with you being away for so long."

There was a moment of silence as Jake processed this new information, his features softening slightly. "I see. I didn't realize how hard it's been for you here alone. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a small sigh, the tension easing a bit. "It's okay. We both have a lot to catch up on. Let's just focus on getting back home for now."

Jake nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. "You're right. We've both been through a lot, and we have a lot to talk about. But right now, let's just get back home and take it one step at a time."

After closing the hangar, you both walked towards the truck, there was a comfortable silence between you. It was the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding and the beginnings of reconciliation. You could sense that both of you were cautiously optimistic about what lay ahead.

Once in the truck, you started the engine and pulled out of the hangar area and started to drive home.

The familiar landscape passed by the windows, each mile bringing you closer to a place that held both memories and possibilities. You glanced over at Jake, who seemed focused on the road but also more at ease than he had been earlier.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he said softly, breaking the silence.

"You would've done the same thing for me," you replied.

Jake glanced your way, a small smile playing on his lips. "Always, Y/N. No matter what happens, I'll always come for you."

Those words, simple as they were, carried a weight of meaning that filled the cab of the truck. You leaned back in your seat, allowing yourself to feel the comfort of his presence and the hope that, despite the challenges, you both might find a way forward together.

Tags:

@buckysteveloki-me

@guacam011y

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #hangman #top gun maverick hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

[zelda-the-sacred-realm]

So we all know what Time thinks about the others, we know what Link thinks about the others in the group, but what does the roast master himself, World, think about the other or in general how do they all think about each other?

Well Worlds is a character who understands others in a precise way, others are hardly mysterious to him, here's what he thinks of them:

Link: For Worlds, Link is an insecure but kind and altruistic boy, nothing Link does has ever made him think otherwise. Worlds also knows that Link is always looking for the right father figure, this boy's family trauma is so big that he really needs a family to support him, and so he becomes the bravest boy he ever known.

Sky: Worlds sees him as the kindest and most kind person in all of Hyrule. Unfortunately he also thinks that he is lazy, a sleepyhead and that he often forgets things, a fairly common thought for everyone. But Worlds appreciates him a lot because he makes him feel important and is always kind to him.

Time: It's simply Timezilla for him, a monstrous creature that tramples on other people's thoughts because he is the leader! Ahh if he was 1 meter shorter he would give him a lesson, but since he scares him, it's better not to be considered by him

Twilight: mister perfection for him, he doesn't hate him but he compares himself a lot with him and his abilities. Worlds can admit to being jealous, everything Twilight does seems like he does it better than him, that's not really always the case but that's his opinion. But he also sees him as a kind and altruistic person who is on the front line because he wants to protect others, this truly honors him

Wind: He finds him adorable and cheerful, a real godsend to tolerate everyone else, and then he's funny and he gets along with him very well. If he had to find a flaw in Wind it would be his obsession for Time, but this actually makes him laugh, because it seems like the worst punishment for a grumpy old man who just wants to be alone

Wild: For Worlds he is the only one who cannot understand perfectly, he knows that he is courageous, altruistic but extremely messy, but the rest is truly a mystery. As a spirit so young he is very strong, and also seems to know more than he lets on, is certainly a subject that Worlds studies.

I hope you like the Worlds/Ravio sketch!

Thanks for your ask! 💖

#zeldathesacredrealm #sacred realm #zelda comic #zelda au #legend of zelda #zeldaau #zelda #hero of worlds #hero of between worlds #the legend of zelda between worlds #a link between worlds #link between worlds #sr worlds #tumblr request #tumblr ask

[darkmajesty-xo]

18+ MDNI| tw! ProHero TodoDeku, Assistant! Reader, Age Gap Suggestive

a/n : this is an unedited poorly written thot that i had for christmastime, neglected it then thought to release it for icythots birthday. i'm sorry my love you deserve better but maybe someone will like it !

midoriya is awful at hiding things.

snacks, secrets, feelings and especially presents. so, naturally birthdays are very stressful for him.

he tries his best each year but no matter how creative he thinks he is, his boyfriend always stumbles upon his hiding spots. it can get really frustrsting at times, and even though shoto says that it's okay and still pretends to be surprised with whatever allmight related collectable he gets him-- deku still wants to get this right!

so this year he had the bright idea of leaving the wrapped gift in his office drawer until the big day. midoriya is often up and out of the house by 5am for his morning jog and workout, with his bestfriend kacchan, while shoto sleeps in. however, since it's a "holiday" deku would forgo the gym sesh and drive over to their joined agency like a sneaky little elf.

it's honestly the perfect plan and he doesn't know why he didn't think of it sooner.

izuku was proudly mumbling to himself as he stepped off the elevator and into the office space when he noticed you sitting at your desk in the lobby. you'd been his and shoto's assistant for about a year now; a quirkless college grad with great references and eager to please. both men would describe you as a literal godsend-- single handedly organizing and restructuring the business aspects of their very chaotic agency.

don't judge the man, it's tough being the "on again off again" number one and japan's new "symbol of hope".

between keeping civilians safe and battling it out on the charts with kacchan every other week, he doesn't have time for paperwork and protocol. shoto, who sits comfortably at number 3, simply ignores paperwork and waits for somebody else to do it.

all of that to say that you were a super hardworking and valued employee but it still doesn't explain why you'd be at the office this early on the weekend.

"goodmorning, y/n".

you must not've heard the ding of the elevator because the sound of his voice startled you into spilling the contents of your mug all all over your keyboard.

"shit. shit. shit." you scrambled to blot the mess with your cardigan sleeves, shaking your head and worrying at your lips. deku was slightly amused. not because you'd spilled something but because he'd never heard you use profanities before. you were normally very reserved and meek. your submissiveness was something that he'd spoken about to you in the past because he felt like some of the sidekicks were taking advantage of your kindness. if deku had to list one toxic trait about you, it'd probably be that you were an extreme people pleaser. even moreso than him, and that's saying something.

"are you okay? i hope you didn't burn yourself".

you sighed, defeated, allowing yourself to glance at the annoying intruder only to be met with sparkling gemstone eyes and a soft smile. time has been well on midoriya. even with the slight crinkles by his eye and streaks of gray peppering his emerald green mop, he still looked as youthful as ever. the same deku that stole the hearts of many all those years ago- just a few more scars on his warlorn body and a softer layer to his midsection. but he looked great! if anything that extra thickness on his tummy only emphasized his mouthwatering biceps and juicy juicy thighs. he could probably crack your head open with those things.

"hey, sweetheart. are you okay?" he was closer now, the minty aroma of his cologne flowing into your space. your cheeks burned. here you were lusting over one of your very taken bosses, yet again.

"mr.deku! im fine, im fine. you just startled me is all" you breathed, brushing a stray loc away from your face. deku hummed, seemingly evaluating your strange reaction but choosing not to comment.

"why aren't you at home with your family? i could've sworn we gave all the administrative staff the day off".

"well i don't really have a family or anybody waiting for me, so i figured that i could get some work done. crime doesn't stop on the weekends" you shrugged. that didn't sit well with deku. he couldn't imagine you spending the day holed up in his agency.

"why don't you come home with me"?

it was hard not to laugh at the way your eyes widened. your mouth opening and closing in shock. it was so easy to fluster you. deku didn't know if it was due to your age or if you were just that innocent. he liked that. its perverted, he knows, but the thought of you on your knees staring up at him all doe eyed lived rent free in his mind.

"ouch, i didnt know that i was such bad company" he teased, just to get a rise out of you. and of course you took the bait. rushing to apologize. clarifying that you didn't want to be a bother. insisting that he haad much better things to do than babysit you. but deku wouldn't be deku if he took "no" for an answer, and that's how you wound up in your employer's kitchen watching him struggle to decide what he'd be preparing for his lover's birthday brunch. it was something that his friends did every year for eachother and he offered to host this time but there was one small problem���

deku can't cook.

sure he has the funds to hire a catering service but that seemed so impersonal. he wanted something that came from the heart! but after a couple tik tok videos and several pancakes on the floor- he started to rethink that decision. he then heard the little giggles coming from your direction. he turned towards you with a raised brow and you quickly put both hands on your mouth in response.

"what's so funny, little girl ?" he pointed his batter covered spatula towards you, only to get some on his freckled cheek. you laughed even harder this time, grabbing for your phone to take a picture. he liked seeing you like this, all free and relaxed.

"y'know i didn't see "bully" listed on your resume" he joked, pouting while dramatically turning his back to you. "don't expect a good reference letter from me when you go seek out greener pastures".

"oh please" you snorted, rising from your stool to join him at the stove. "where would i find something greener than your hair, mr. deku?" you teased, bumping him aside with your hip to grab the bowl of batter, "besides i'd never leave the two of you". it grew silent; the only sound being the sizzle of the batter hitting the pan. for a moment you thought you'd overstepped and began raking through your mind for save but the hero mimicked your earlier action-- softly bumping your hip to catch your attention. with flushed cheeks he smiled down at you making heat bloom witin your own cheeks.

"the feelings mutual, sweetheart".

after about two hours of cooking, with deku insisting on "mandatory snack breaks", the two of you had accomplished decenrt brunch spread with a fusion of japanese and american cuisine.

the two of were giggling over a pot of kenchinjiru when shoto sleepily shuffled into the kitchen. it was a welcomed sight to wake up to you and izuku being so cozy. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, just admiring how well you fit with his partner, how comfortable you both seemed. he could've watched you all morning, had izuku not looked over his shoulder.

"oh! hey, sho. look at what i found" izuku chirped, happily petting you on top of the head. "izuku--" you whined shyly, glancing at the heterochromatic hero.

even fresh out of bed, shoto looked absolutely stunning. his silky strands were parted down the middle, falling loosely against his tailbone. his beautifull sculpted face held no imperfections, save for his iconic scar. however, his body told a different story. standing bare, in only his boxers, you could see battle scars littered against his pale flesh-- weaving against one another like the intricate lines of a tattoo. he'd always maintained a slimmer physique than deku, showcasing a smaller waist and chiseled abs lightly dusted with a bicolored happy trail that led to his scantily clad lower regions. the sight of shoto todoroki in nothing but his skin tight boxer briefs was mouth-watered. you eyes wandered a bit longer and lower than thet should've and the icy hot hero definitely took notice.

eyes locked on your own, sauntered towards the two of you and pulled izuku into a steamy kiss. the greenette was shocked, especially when his partner's hands dropped to grip his ass. he leaned into the other man's touch, moaning softly with each swipe of his tongue. you were as still as a statue, drinking in this erotic display of passion. yes, you'd seen them kiss around the agenc before but it was never more than a light peck. this was soft porn.

"goodmorning, baby" shoto whispered against izuku's lips. kissing him softly once more before pulling away and turning towards you. you didnt know what to expect but it surely wasn't him pulling you flush against his body, big hands resting on your hips while nuzzling his cheek against your own.

"what a nice surprise".

his voice was still husky with sleep and it tickled your skin. he pulled back slightly to get a better look at you. big bright eyes, rich skin and soft curves. the last thing he epected to wake up to was you in his arms, but its not like he's complaining. it's no secret that shoto fancies you. the only person unaware of his crush was you.

for the sake of decorum and professionality, in addition to his long-term relationship, he'd refrained asking you out directly. you were the best assistant they'd had and both men could tell that you were shy, so he would've hated to scare you off. he kept his efforts subtle. one time you mentioned how sweet you thought it was that him and izuku left eachother cute encouraging messages on their desks throughout the day, so he started leaving you cute little notes as well.

"you're doing great".

"i'm so happy you're here".

"you're the perfect little helper".

"you smell nice"

you didn't get the last one, it was intercepted by izuku who felt like it was borderline creepy. he didn't have any problems with shoto's crush/obsession with you; he actually encouraged ti, especially in the bedroom. but there was a time and a place for everything.

the two of you had been staring at eachother for a while when deku's voice brough you back to reality.

"do you mind excusing us for a second, love ? i'm sure you dont want to see this old man in his undies" Izuku giggled, while nudging his partner.

"she doesn't seem to min-

"shoto! bedroom, now."

the two men left you to your simmering soup, and thoughts while they trekked to their upstairs bedroom.

"you've really outdone yourself , izu" shoto began, "i was expecing another allmight figurine, not a threesome".

"shoto, baby, you gotta relax sometimes" izuku sighed. he searched through the drawers looking for a pair of shoto's sweat then threw them at the other man's head. "i saw her at the office this morning and invited her over because aparrently she's all alone. she just thinks she's here for your birthday brunch and has no idea about your little obession with her".

"MY 'little obession' ? wasn't it just last night that you begged me to fuck you like i'd fuck her ?"

Izuku ran his figners through his hair trying to ignore the emerging stiffness between his thighs from the memory.

"i- i will admit that i am attracted to her and after spending time with her this morning i can admit that i do like her BUT i am not the one that purposely gets hurt on patrol so that she'll fuss over me, and i'm definitely not the one that calls her for literally everything just so i can jerk off to her voice over the phone, am i ?"

"i will neither confirm nor deny those statements".

"exactly" izuku rolled his eyes, "m'gonna go check on her, k?"

"don't eat without me" shoto smirked.

"perv" izuku muttered, but winked back at his handsome boyfriend. he opened the door and there you stood wide-eyed with your hand over your mouth.

his eye twitched. they'd just been busted discussing you in a very lewd manner. he was just about to apologize but you did it first

"i'm so so sorry, mr deku. i didnt mean to listen, i just wanted to tell mr shoto 'happy birthday' but then i heard you talking and i didnt know what to do because i have been in love with the two of you since i started working and i never imagined--

izuku interrupted your ramblings with a soft kiss and gestured to shoto who was already sitting on the bed, cock in hand.

"how about we make it a very happy birthday, love ?"

#happy birthday shoto #i love you babe #todoroki x black reader #deku x black reader #todoroki x chubby reader #Deku #mha deku #izuku midoryia smut #tododeku

[weenisstuff]

Affinity - Part 1 (Huskerdust)

Valentino wasn't at the studio, which in most cases would be a godsend but in today's case only made the day more exhausting. 

The demon chose Vox to take care of the shoot, very different from his usual choice of Velvette. Anyone but Valentino otherwise would be amazing except that Vox was negligent when it came to breaks, as well as Angel's request to bring in physical force in any case where Angel felt it necessary. Ultimately leading to Angel getting way more roughed up than he originally expected when walking into the studio that day. 

He finds himself waiting in the waiting area of the studio once all is said and done, his legs are sore to a point walking makes him tremble and shake. Better yet it's raining more than it has in months leaving him trapped inside as he calls Vaggie to ask for a ride. 

“Hello?” she says, finally picking up after the sixth ring. 

“Hey toots I need a ride again from the studio” Angel says his usual confident manner of speaking falling flat as his throat is also bruised, he prays Vaggie can't hear it from the other side of the phone. 

There's a shuffle and a background voice that he presumes is Charlie. “Husk will be there in a bit” 

“What?!” He exclaims “What happened to the car?” It had only been once but he was sure the last time he called for a ride they sent over a black mustang, incredibly impressive for what the hotel's financial state was currently in.  

“Angel that was a rental, Husk is coming for you just stay where you are '' She says, her tone is exhausted. Whatever, at least he didn't have to walk alone in the streets, he wasn't in the mood for fighting off any pervs. He hung up swiftly no longer having the motivating to argue further, the rain was only falling harder. 

-

Husk was used to being ordered around regularly, he worked for Alastor long enough to realize that not doing so was only more work than doing the task itself. So even though his hangover made him sluggish and impossibly tired he moved fast to retrieve Angel when Vaggie instructed him to. 

He wasn't entirely bothered by the labor, spending any time with Angel was a treat. He ran his mouth sure but his quick wit and charismatic humor really helped him warm up to the idea of actually being his friend, and helping him out of any situation that involved Val was always extremely gratifying. 

The rain was coming down especially hard, the wind a nuisance as Husk gripped the handle of his umbrella. The booze only helped a bit with warming his body, small shivers erupting every time a breeze hit his fur in a particular way. He held Angel's big puffer jacket close to his chest in an attempt to warm himself as best he could, his only solace the neon pink lights of Valentinos studio in a close distance.

-

Husk arrived soaked, shivering, and with Angel’s jacket in hand. Why he didn't put it on while traveling was a mystery to him.

“Jesus Husky, you really could have waited until the rain calmed down a bit” Angel commented, getting up from his seat in the waiting area and walking over to the soaking wet cat.      

“Didn't wanna leave you here for longer than you needed to be” Husk admitted handing over Angel's dry jacket that somehow survived getting just as drenched as the cat before him. He couldn't help but feel like a nuisance for making him come and retrieve him. 

“Stop that” His thoughts were interrupted at Husks annoyed tone, confused he asked. “Stop what?” 

“You're overthinking, I came because I wanted to so don't go thinking that you're a bother” he sighed, making Angel wonder if he had always been so transparent or if Husk was simply all too perceptive. Regardless he smiled and with a pep in his step tugged on his jacket and hooked one of his six arms around Husks, making the cat smirk at his new attitude. 

The rain was just as harsh as it had looked from inside the studio, Husk held on tight to keep the umbrella from flying out of his grasp. Angel's new pumps would definitely be ruined after this little trip. 

-

Just as they were approaching the hotel the rain finally let up, Husk groaned at the irony. 

“Thanks” Angel sighed from beside him, shivering from the harsh winds that invaded their space. Husk wished he had thought to bring a spare pair of Angels pants to shield his bare legs from the cold. 

“No problem, '' he replied, pretending not to notice the small smile that lit up on the other demon's face. Angel liked to pretend he was mysterious but his true emotions were easier to read when he wasn't performing for an audience that wasn't there.

As the pair made it inside Angel gladly took his usual spot at the bar. “Hope you're up for a drink old man” he challenged excitedly. 

“Gonna need it after being in the cold for that long,” Husk answered, pouring himself a glass of scotch and Angel's usual vodka. 

Angel chuckled sweetly “With our luck we'll probably get a cold” Husk nodded in agreement, disregarding his hatred for being ill as thoughts of it all being worth it invaded his mind.

#huskerdust #angel dust #angel dust x husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #huskerdust fanfiction #angelhusk

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

Masterlist

Hey ya'll, sorry it's been a minute. School and kiddos have been crazy and I just haven't had time to write!--- chaotic puff

Chapter 13

Margot woke up the next morning back in bed with no recollection of how she’d gotten there. She had to assume it was Yoongi who as far as she could tell was not in the bed with her, much to her relief. 

With a groan, Margot sat up willing herself to start the day despite the voice in her head nagging at her to stay under the covers and hope that this was all a terrible dream, but she knew it wasn’t and hiding wouldn’t do her any good. She’d be much better off exploring her new enclosure and figuring out exactly what she was dealing with. But first she needed a shower. She found a good hot shower fixed a lot of things. It wouldn’t change her circumstances, but it would make her feel a little better. 

As much as she didn’t like the situation, Margot had to admit that she was completely in love with Yoongi’s bathroom. The shower was spacious with a little bench indented into one wall that would be a godsend for shaving her legs, and there were two different shower heads, one on each side of the shower. Clearly this shower had been made with multiple people in mind which sent a wave of anxiety through her. 

Margot brushed the feeling off, knowing there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. Dwelling on what features Yoongi had picked for his home would only cause her more worry, and after the events of the previous night, she was fairly convinced that Yoongi had lost his mind, becoming fixated on delusions of what their relationship could have been. 

Washed, dried, and wrapped in a deliciously warm and fluffy towel, Margot wandered out of the bathroom in search of something to wear, finding the closet fairly easily. 

Half of the space was filled with Yoongi’s clothes, an assortment of jeans and tshirts, sweatshirts and joggers, and flannels. These were things that she expected. There was also an assortment of other things, things that didn’t fit with the image of Yoongi that still lingered in her brain from their college days: dress shirts, suits, expensive watches, jewelry, shiny dress shoes. Even if she wasn’t personally used to seeing him in suits and shiny shoes, she supposed that he needed to curate a certain image as the head of his own enterprise, even if it was a criminal one.

The other half of the closet was bare, and she swiftly came to the conclusion that that was her side of the closet and that the boxes piled there were meant for her. Upon further examination, the boxes were filled with her things: her clothes, her shoes, her jewelry. 

Another spike of anxiety shot through her. 

He hadn’t asked for permission or her opinion. He’d simply acted. Within a matter of hours he’d managed to have her life packed up and brought to him as if it was the most simple thing in the world. As grateful as she was to have her own things, Margot was also sick at the idea of her entire life being so easily transmuted, seamlessly stitched together with Yoongi’s as though this was all natural. 

Shaking off her quickly darkening thoughts as best she could, Margot began the process of digging through the boxes in search of something to wear. Eventually, she would need to unpack, but for now she was going to search for her comfy clothes and leave the boxes for another time in the vain hope that Yoongi would snap out of his delusions and allow her to go home. 

Eventually Margot was able to find a comfortable sleeveless mock neck shirt and a stretchy pair of palazzo pants that would work well enough. She’d even managed to dig out one of her many cardigans to keep herself warm in the chill of the air conditioning. She tried not to think about who had packed her clothes or the box of her intimates which had been one of the first boxes she’d stumbled across. 

With her cardigan pulled tightly around her, Margot left the relative safety of the bedroom to explore the rest of the house. Yoongi had been the one to take her to and from every room she’d been in so far except for the brief walk from the kitchen to the open living area. She had no idea how big the house actually was or if she had any limits on where she could and could not go within it. Yoongi had said that this was her home too, a horrifying thought in of itself, but he hadn’t established if there were any boundaries within the house. She knew well enough that she couldn’t leave the house unsupervised, but there had been no mention of any part of the house being off limits. But before she could do any real exploration of the house, she desperately needed some caffeine.

The house might have been strange to her, but at the very least she remembered where the kitchen was. 

Slowly, Margot made her way down the hallway to the staircase that would bring her to the lower level of the apartment where the kitchen was situated. 

She found that the penthouse looked much different in the daylight. The night had cast long shadows over everything that combined with the low lighting had made everything seem dark and dismal, the perfect hideout for a criminal mastermind. It was different with light streaming through the floor to ceiling windows that made up several walls of the apartment. The space was actually much more light and airy than she had previously thought. 

The walls were painted either in shades of light gray or in white with a cheery wood floor beneath her bare toes as she explored. The sofa was a soft white color with a multitude of throw pillows decorating it in muted shades of blue, off white, and what seemed to her to be a terracotta orange. Artwork covered several of the walls, and as she looked around she couldn’t find a single piece of furniture or decor that she would have objected to having in her own home. Of course everything here cost far more than she would have been willing to spend on furnishing an apartment, and it lacked the random knick-knacks she had collected over the years. Everything else was designed to her taste. The color palette especially would have suited her college aged self who had favored those soft autumnal shades of blues and reds that she saw on the sofa. 

As she looked at it all, she was struck quite clearly with the thought that this didn’t just suit her design preferences, even if the color palette was a little outdated, it had been designed for her. Yoongi had built a home with her in mind and had simply waited for the day that he could bring her back to it. 

“Min buin.” A voice called, bringing her attention to the young man who was standing in the entrance to the kitchen watching her with a warily, almost as though he was sizing her up. 

Margot didn’t recognize him, but she had to assume that he was a part of the security team that Yoongi had assigned to her. 

“You one of my babysitters?” She asked, folding her arms under her chest as she pulled her cardigan a little tighter around herself, one foot shifting to be perched on top of the other as she watched the unknown man.

“Kant Chul, ma’am.” He introduced himself with a respectful bow. 

“Buin.” Another voice called, as Yeong stepped out of the kitchen to greet her. “The boss had to step out to take care of some things.” He explained answering a question she hadn’t even thought to ask yet. “He asked us to get you anything you need until he returns later.” 

She sighed, shifting her weight so that both feet were once more on the ground. “You don’t need to call me ‘buin’. I’m not his wife.” 

“It’s a sign of respect, ma’am. As the boss’ woman you’re to be treated with great care and deference.” 

She chuckled a little at that partially because of the situation itself and partly because she hadn’t expected someone working for a gang to be so eloquent. 

“Did he say when he’d be back?” 

“No, ma’am.” Yeong shook his head, the other man keeping silent as Yeong spoke to her. “There was an…” he paused searching for the right word to use for the situation. “Emergency at work that required the boss’ continued attention.” 

“Ah.” She nodded. “Same thing that dragged him away yesterday?” She didn’t particularly care what it was that was keeping Yoongi away. She was just happy she didn’t have to wake up in the same bed as him, but it was polite to continue the conversation. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Right. Well, could either of you show me where he keeps his stash of tea and where the mugs are?” She asked, moving towards the kitchen. “I desperately need some caffeine.” 

Chul piped up, speaking for the first time since Yeong had made his appearance. “I can get you a cup of coffee, buin.” 

Yeong scoffed, whacking the other man upside the head lightly. “Yah. Don’t you know she doesn't drink coffee? How long have you been on her detail?” He scolded. 

“I‘ll be just fine with a cup of tea.” She told them both, amused by how relaxed they both seemed despite the situation and despite the fact they were meant to be keeping her prisoner in the house. “Have either of you had breakfast yet?” She asked as Yeong moved to get her a mug and find her a selection of teas to choose from. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Yeong answered, giving her a soft smile. “We ate before our shift started.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird to be taking shifts to guard one woman?” She asked, staring at Yoongi’s bland white mugs in distaste. There was no pizazz to them, no personality. 

“The boss is very concerned with your safety, ma’am.” Yeong answered. It was the same party line she’d been given the day before. 

“Of course.” She scoffed. “This has nothing to do with the fact that your boss is delusional and paranoid. It’s totally normal for someone to need at least two people with them at all times to go places.” 

“The boss just wants to keep you safe, buin.” Chul piped up, placing a selection of tea down in front of her. 

She picked a nice looking green tea, but before she could move to start making it herself, Chul had already taken her selection and started the motions himself. 

“I can make my own tea.” She moved to try to stop him, feeling odd having the two strangers waiting on her, but Yeong stopped her, gently directing her to sit at one of the stools at the island. 

“It’s our job to look after you, ma’am.” He told her gently. “Last night must have been… difficult for you. Let Chul make you a cup of tea.” 

“I feel kinda useless if I’m not doing anything.” She admitted, fighting with her fingers, eyes fixated not the dark red polish on her nails. 

Yeong nodded understandingly. “Have you had breakfast yet, buin?” She shook her head no. “Then you can help me get something started. The boss wouldn’t be very happy if we let you starve.”

“Is he ever really happy?” 

Yeong paused for a moment as he opened the fridge in search of ingredients. “Since I got the order to look after you, buin, he’s been happier than I’ve ever seen him.” Margot stared at him blankly. “I’ve never seen the boss like this about anyone.” Yeong explained. 

“He’s threatened everyone within an inch of their lives if anything happens to you.” Chul added on. “He’s damn scary when he wants to be.” 

Margot couldn’t disagree with that. Yoongi terrified her to the very core of her being, and yet there were times she couldn’t help but to still see him as the boy she’d known in college. If he terrified her when he was trying in his own twisted way to woo her, she could only imagine what he was like with people he was actually trying to scare. 

“He’s not a bad boss though!” Chul hurried to add as though he was frightened his comment would get back to Yoongi. “And watching you isn’t a bad gig! It’s been pretty easy so far!” 

“Glad I could make your lives less difficult.” She commented dryly. 

“It’s an honor to be trusted with something the boss considers so precious.” Yeong explained, a little more eloquently than his partner. “What would you like to eat, buin?” 

She shook her head, leaning against the island as Chul placed a cup of tea in front of her. “Nothing. I’m not really hungry this morning. Bit nauseous actually.” 

Chul nodded understandingly before turning to rummage through the cupboards as Yeong looked at her worriedly. 

“The boss won’t like you not eating.” 

“Well as the cause of my nausea he can fuck off.” 

A bowl was set down in front of her with a clink. Margot looked up to see Chul grinning at her. 

“A little rice might help settle your stomach. Empty stomachs don’t help nausea.” 

She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right, and it was sweet of him to try to help. 

“Thank you.” 

Slowly, she dipped her spoon into the rice, taking a small bite.

“So what would you like to do today, buin?” 

Margot stared at him blankly, unsure if he actually wanted her to answer that or not. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was allowed to do within the bounds of the Yoongi’s control. “The boss never said you couldn’t go out.” Yeong explained just as gently as he had been explaining everything else, allowing her to keep some of her dignity. “You just have to have your security with you, and the boss needs to know where you’ll be.”

“It’s a safety issue.” Chul chimed in. 

Margot cast her gaze down to her mug sitting beside the half eaten bowl of rice. She couldn’t pin down why, but the plain white dishware grated at her nerves. There wasn’t even a pattern or a design to break up the stark white on either of the pieces of dishware. There wasn’t a chip or scratch to suggest that it had been well loved. It was just white, plain undiluted white.

Margot sighed, turning away from the dishes and her irrational dislike of them, a headache beginning to take form just behind her eyes, and a deep exhaustion settling in her bones despite the fact she’d only just woken up. 

“I think I just want to lie down.” she admitted, missing the comfort of her own bed. 

“Are you alright, buin?” Yeon asked, eyeing her with concern. 

“I’m just a little tired.” she said, sending him a brittle smile. Every bit of her felt brittle these days. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.” 

—————

Yoongi arrived back home more than a little pissed off. He’d had to spend the entire day away because his men were too incompetent to deal with problems without him, and as a result he hadn’t gotten to be with Margot on her first day in their home. 

Overall, he was tired and upset and a little more than ready to see the love of his life, but when he entered the apartment, everything was silent and still as it normally was. There was no immediate sign of Margot or any other living person in the space setting his already rankled nerves even further on edge. 

“Margot?” he called, stepping further into the apartment. 

There were a few lights on, but they were dimmed, a barely there glow over the space. 

“Boss.” Seongnam, a member of Margot’s security team, appeared out of the kitchen bowing respectfully.

“Where is Margot?” Yoongi demanded, eyes scanning over the apartment in search of her even as he asked, and a wave of relief sweeping through him as he spotted a lump on the couch covered in a throw blanket. 

“She had a migraine today, sir.” Seongnam stated. “She’s sleeping on the sofa right now.” 

“A migraine?” Yoongi asked, head tilted slightly to the side. 

It was a problem he wasn’t unfamiliar with. She had gotten them from time to time when they were in college, usually when she was under a significant amount of stress. 

“Yes, sir.” Seongnam nodded. “She took some pain medication and has been asleep for a few hours now.” 

Yoongi hummed in understanding, his eyes still fixed on Margot where she laid dead to the world on the sofa. 

“If I could say, sir…” Seongnam began again, hesitant as though he was unsure how the mob boss would react to what he was about to say. “I think the move has been hard on her.” 

“Did she go out at all today?” Yoongi asked, making his way over to her and taking a seat beside her, eyes scanning to make sure that she was alright.

“No, sir. She wasn’t feeling well and spent the majority of the day on the couch.” 

“Thank you,Seongnam.” Yoongi sighed, smoothing a hand over her sleep rumbled hair. “I’ll take care of her from here.” 

The other man bowed, leaving the couple alone. 

Yoongi looked down at Margot, a frown marring his features. 

Logically he’d known that there was no way she was gone. He knew that, but arriving home to a still house without any obvious signs of her presence had sent a bolt of panic through him. He didn’t like the idea that being here with him caused her stress, but he liked the idea of her being gone even less. Not knowing where she was even for a moment, had caused his mind to jump to the worst case scenario. 

He knew it wasn’t healthy. He knew it bordered a little on the obsessive, but he’d only just gotten her back, and being unable to be with her on her first day in their home especially given the circumstances in which the move had happened had already put him on edge. 

His fingers curled into the strands of her hair, playing with it as he calmed down. She’d very rarely let him play with her hair back in college. She’d always said that it tickled uncomfortable or that people tugged too hard, but when she didn’t feel well, she would let him play with her hair, curled into his side like a contented cat as he mindlessly twirled the strands and let them run through his fingers. He did that now almost subconsciously, a natural response to the knowledge that she didn’t feel well. 

Part of him felt a twinge of guilt at the state she was in. He knew that stress caused her to get migraines, and here she was after a stressful transition with a migraine, her foot peeking out from beneath the blanket still bandaged from the broken glass the night before. He’d wanted nothing more than to keep her safe, and yet she was in worse shape than when he’d brought her home. 

Despite knowing that, there was no part of him that had even considered the possibility of letting her go. He couldn’t even if he’d wanted to, but he also couldn’t let her wither and fade in his care. He wanted her happy and healthy. A faded and diminished version of her was not his goal, and he wouldn’t let that happen to her. 

“I’m sorry, jagi.” He whispered, brushing a stray piece of hair away from her face. “I’ll do better. I promise.” 

part 14

#bts fic #yandere #yandere bts #dark romance #bts #amygdala #yandere kpop #yandere fanfic #mafia fanfic #mafia au #mafia bts #mafia yoongi #mafia suga #mafia agust d #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #yandere agust d #mafia #yoongi x oc #agust d x oc #suga x oc

[flaneur001]

As I was lounging about, I had this idea, what if Angel was buff, super into fitness and manhandled Ren thus giving me a little story inspo~

Ren/dacted x [Fitness Freak/ Gym Rat ] GN-Angel

(Ren Fluff) (proofread)

Word count-1278

Its sfw

(The characters belong to @14dayswithyou )

Short summary- It’s a Ren/dacted fluff. Angel is a fitness freak and doesn’t like Ren eating unhealthy food. So they punish Ren by making him drink their special breakfast smoothie

(Also I’ve made Angel a ‘Brawns over Brains’ type of character, and comically exaggerated their strength)

TW-Mentions of Calories, weight

Anything For You, My love

‘Slink…grab’ ‘Slink….grab’

The fluorescent pink yoyo bounced and wound back into Ren’s grasp, as he laid on his back lazily, long legs half dangling down the edge of the bed. His baby blue eyes burned holes on his bedroom door as he wearily stared at his handiwork. The new hinges securing the door looked stronger than the last. But he couldn’t be sure, so he had also stacked a chair against the door for extra measure.

‘Any minute now’,he thought. As if on cue a pair of heavy footsteps thudded on the hardwood floor, as they approached his room. An almost nervous smile broke onto his face as he waited, face scrunched up with anticipation at the complete uncertainty of the situation. His posture straightened and he sat cross-legged on the bed, watching, waiting like a big curious cat.

Knock Knock Knock

A loud rap at his door made his lips quirk up as he answered, “What’s the matter Angel?” He said in a feigned innocent voice.

“You know what! Now open up”, the low voice demanded.

“And what if I don’t?” Ren teased, enjoying it a tad more than necessary. A hint of a smirk lighting up his features.

“Then you leave me no choice RenRen”, they sighed mockingly as they cracked their knuckles.“Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you okay hon?”

‘Huh…no way…not again. They wouldn’t dare’ Ren thought as he peacefully closed his eyes and relaxed into the body-pillow covered with his Angel’s large hoodie. ‘They’re bluffing right…right?!” He opened one eye, a little nervous at the ominous silence in the hallway.

But the silence didn’t last long as a loud BAM followed by a CRASH almost made Ren jump out of his bed. The keyword being almost. The door to his room flew off of its hinges, as he stared stoically at the chair sprawled on the floor of his bedroom. His Angel stood over the remnants of the door with a self-satisfied smirk on their face. Smug little devil

“I can’t believe you actually did it Angel’, he murmured laughing beside himself, God how could he not adore such a crazy cinnamon roll?!

“And I can’t believe you snuck in an entire box of Ramen, when I threw away your last stash just yesterday. I swear if I didn’t love you, I would've…”, Angel trailed off and pinched the bridge of their nose in exasperation. Acting all patronizing as if they didn’t just forcefully enter a room by breaking through a door.

Ren’s eyes lit up half in amusement and half in excitement as he practically leapt out of his bed and wrapped a big arm around Angel’s waist.

Bending down he whispered, his lips almost touching the shell of Angel’s ear teasingly, “Complete the sentence my Angel. You would’ve what? Punished me?” He leaned back only to throw a maddening smirk towards them purposely riling his little firecracker.

They let out a bark of laughter as they simply stared at the pink-haired man, peeved at his baiting, “You would like that wouldn’t you? No but I’ve planned something much much better darling” They smiled condescendingly as they wrapped their arms around his waist, circling him in their embrace like a trap.

“Do you have any idea how unhealthy that is…you practically inhale that trash like it’s some godsend treat. And DO NOT get me started on those damned energy drinks”, Angel rambled, speaking absentmindedly about calories and whatnot, huffily.

What Angel didn’t know was that he was enjoying every little second of this conversation. His heart thudded wildly at the simple intimacy of their actions. ‘My Angel worries about me’ he mused.

To say Ren was whipped would be the understatement of the century. No, he was devoted to his Angel.

‘Aha! Gotchu!’ Angel smiled inwardly sensing Ren’s distraction.They didn’t miss a beat as they swiped a foot under Ren’s feet and knocked him off balance carrying that bulking man on their shoulders, in a fireman’s carry, as if he weighed nothing.

“Ah!” He let out a surprised yelp, but then let his Angel manhandle him, fondly surrendering to their wild antics. He mumbled half to himself, “Sometimes I can’t believe how such a small thing can pack so much strength”, his body shook with laughter as he swatted Angel’s bum playfully.

“Oi hands to yourself mister…right now you are nothing but a sack of potatoes”, Angel ordered as they carried the man towards the kitchen.

“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow, a smile dancing on his lips in amusement, “But I’m your sack of potatoes right Angel?”

Angel groaned rolling their eyes at Ren, but a small grin crept on their face. They too enjoyed these little moments between them, but they wouldn’t admit it to Ren’s face. The man was already so full of himself.

“I’m not answering that. And who are you calling small? Sure I’m a little shorter than you, but I’ve got a sleeper’s build. Annnnd I lift double your weight”, Angel huffed.

With a flourish they dropped Ren on one of the chairs lining the dining table. And went to grab whatever that they had left on the kitchen counter.

“So what is this much better-than-punishment-thingy you have prepared for me, my Angel?” Ren asked, swinging his legs like a child as he stared at his Angel, filling two mugs with a pitcher, emptying the entire contents.

Wearily his eyes scanned his kitchen, studying the crime scene. Broccoli, chicken breast, spinach, oranges, asparagus,kiwi, honey and eggs lay haphazardly strewn across the marble countertops. He stiffened, already knowing what his Angel was up to.

“Here” Angel smiled innocently as they slid the mug full of what looked like sludge—there was no better way to put it—towards him and clinked their mug with his as they winked cheekily,“Cheers RenRen”

Ren almost balked as Angel downed the whole thing in one long gulp. “Angel…what is it?” He asked reluctantly

“My breakfast smoothie duh…I made the recipe myself…here take a look” they said excitedly as they slid the piece of paper across the table towards him.

Ren flinched inwardly as he read the ingredients, surely enough his suspicions were spot on. His Angel had poured all the ingredients on the counter into a blender and made this poison smoothie.

“Darling, this recipe should be censored destroyed pronto, we don’t want people stealing this abomination treasure” Ren chuckled nervously scratching the back of his neck as he stared at the mug with apprehension.

“That so?”, Angel smiled knowingly, as they leaned back folding their arms across their chest. “Then taste it and tell me how you like it” they challenged, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Ta-taste it Angel? Why, I wanna preserve it like the treasure it is. Pass it down to our children like an heirloom”, he said slowly inching the mug away from him.

Angel maintained a stoic expression, resisting the urge to burst into laughter at their RenRen’s cuteness.

They leaned forward, propping their chin on their hands as an idea formed into their mind. Angel pouted, jutting their bottom lip out as they stared at Ren with puppy dog eyes, “You won’t have it? But I made it especially for you. It’s so healthy. Pretty please?” They mumbled and put on a convincing show, batting their eyelashes and all.

Angel almost broke the façade ready to tease Ren, when he leaned ahead, grabbed the mug and downed the smoothie in one go, startling Angel. They couldn’t believe that Ren actually drank it. They were only teasing him, but he really did it.

As Angel regarded Ren with wonder, tilting their head to the side, the pink haired man simply beamed at them and whispered, “Anything for you my love”

#ashe writes #yandere male #14 days with you #14dwy ren #ren x reader #fluff #14dwy redacted #redacted lives rent free on my mind #I was inspired by Jackson wang’s smoothie #lol smoothie from hell