#but then he had to surrender the angle

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

#good omens season 2 #good omens #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #my own meta #the bloody vol-au-vents made me do it #aziraphale has balls #truly #jaune austen ball #it is a truth universally acknowledged that this show is going to drive me out of my mind #azi just wanted his silly little love confession #but then he had to surrender the angle #bummer

[chernozemm]

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #myart #hozier's first light has chemically altered my brain and this is kind of the emotion i wanted to put into this piece #yanno? you look at your loved one and just know with immense gravity that youre GONE youre so whipped its not even funny anymore

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

[azrielsdove]

Ive been loving all the fics youve been posting. I had this lil idea that hopefully sparks joy for you if ur requests are open. Its an azriel x reader. Where reader is very cold hearted and kinda mean almost bitchy like nesta. Hates to be touched eapecially on her back. Azriel hates her cuz she so unpleastant and so incredibly difficult. The bond snaps for azriel and hes so so confused because he for sure thought elain was for him. Reader always looks at azriels hands almost disgusted but the truth is that she had her wings cut off and the stumps burned down to her flesh, so her entire back is scarred like azriels hands. Her face isnt of disgust but since he hides his hands she assumes he'd be disgusted in her. Azriel softens up to her when he finds out she has a soft spot for children, maybe she teaches orphaned children in the city. Idk i just like the idea of a cold hearted reader thats just as scarred as azzy but actually has a soft heart for kids. Or maybe shes always longed for a family of her own but cant get passed her own insecurities. You can change whatever you'd like to fit your writing style. ❤️

Thank you love!!!! I am OBSESSED with this idea and took off with it. I decided to turn it into a mini series, when I started writing the Readers POV it was getting wayyyy long. I hope I have done your idea justice, here is part 1 <3

Cold Hearts: Azriel x Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Pt. 2 Here

***

Azriel couldn’t stand her. She was nothing but cold and hateful to everyone, especially to him. When she had first come to stay with Rhysand in Velaris, he had tried to be kind to her. Rhys hadn’t told anyone why he brought her, and she certainly never opened up about it.

The first day he met her, she was sitting silently in the small library in the House of Wind. Azriel had smiled at her and given a “Good morning.” She had turned sharply to look at him, her gaze focusing on the hand he waved with. He watched the look of disgust come over her face before she turned back to staring into the fire.

Azriel had been a little taken aback. Sure, he struggled with the way his hands looked, and was no stranger to the dirty looks. The look on her face had been nastier than he had ever seen. She looked at his hands like they caused her pain. He left the library after that, not sure what to think.

Many years had gone by since that first meeting, and Azriel preferred to stay far away from her. No one else wears very fond of her either. He still didn’t know why Rhys had brought her here, nor why he allowed her to stay. She spent most of her days locked in her room or sitting in the library. She occasionally came to meals with the family, rarely speaking. And when she did speak? It was always some cold remark, as if she wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else.

So why did she stay?

Azriel pondered that question far too often. When Rhys became trapped Under the Mountain, he had included that everyone should be prepared for war in his last message. Azriel took it upon himself to train her. He had shown up to her room early in the morning, expecting a fight. To his shock, she willingly came.

She took to training quicker than Azriel had thought. She proved to have some skill under that cold shell she showed everybody, even if it took some coaxing for it to come out. He was impressed. Azriel even started enjoying teaching her, until the day she lashed out at him and declared she never wanted to see him again.

He didn’t know what he had done wrong.

He was trying to teach her a slightly difficult new maneuver. She was struggling to angle her body the correct way, unable to understand how Azriel did it. He had reached out to help her, placing a hand on her lower back and shoulder to move her body into place. She shot out of his grasp like he had stabbed her, whipping around to face him.

“What do you think you are doing?” She had seethed, eyes on fire. Azriel had held his hands up in surrender, confused.

“I was just trying to help-“ He had begun, being cut off by her.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me.” She had glared at his hands, a stare he didn’t miss.

“I don’t understand why you must be so insufferable all of the time!” Azriel had snapped, fed up with the constant negativity and judgement that came from her.

“Maybe don’t be a nasty pig and grab up on any female you see!” She had shouted, turning to leave the ring. “Stay away from me. I don’t wish to see you anymore.”

And that was that.

Cassian had taken over her training from then on out. Azriel was fine with it. She clearly had some sort of issue with him, and it seemed to stem from his hands. His ugly, scarred hands. Were they really so grotesque she couldn’t even stand him touching her?

***

When Rhysand had returned from Under the Mountain, things got better and worse. At first, she had been kinder. Azriel had noticed how she rushed to Rhys before anyone else, how carefully she wrapped him in her arms. The two of them had disappeared after that, not seen until the next day. Azriel couldn’t figure out why the two of them had such a bond, why Rhysand cared for her so much. He had just come back and announced that the human girl - Feyre - was his mate, so it couldn’t be a romantic attraction.

Or could it?

Azriel shook his head, demanding those thoughts the leave his mind. Ignoring the spark of jealousy that ran through him. He didn’t know why he cared so much about her.

***

Elain. There was no doubt in Azriels mind that Elain was his. Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta, naturally Azriel would have Elain. It didn’t matter that the cauldron had mated her with Lucien. Three sisters, three brothers. Anyone could read what that meant.

Azriel tried not to notice the way she had slunk into the shadows lately. When Feyre first came to the Night Court, the two had struck up a friendship. Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes and ears when he saw how fun and sweet she was with Feyre. It further confirmed his belief that she was so disgusted in his scars that she couldn’t stand to be near him. She had even started to being nicer to Cassian, her training with him going much better than yours with Azriels had.

Once the bond snapped with Feyre and Rhysand, she had taken a small step back from the both of them. When it snapped with Cassian and Nesta, she had backed away from Cass as well. She barely even had a witty retort anymore, choosing to stay quiet most of the time.

Azriel felt like no one else had noticed the change in her. However, he had to admit, so much change had happened in such a short time that he couldn’t blame them for not realizing.

Why did he realize?

Even as she created small friendships with the others, she ignored Azriel. She only looked at him to stare at his hands. He had taken to wearing his gloves around her at all times, but she just stared as if she could see through the fabric. He had spent decades trying to be nice to her, for nothing. She rarely spoke to him, mostly just gave that look to his hands.

She was always going to be cruel to him.

***

Azriel was trying desperately to find a Solecist gift for Elain. He knew he had a reputation for gifts, and he wanted to make sure what he got Elain was perfect. As perfect as she is.

And he had no idea what that would be.

He was wandering the paths of Velaris aimlessly, peering into the stores as he passed, trying to see anything that seemed like Elain. He was getting worried that he would never find anything, turning away from yet another shop.

He stopped when he saw her.

She was inside a little building, large windows open for anyone to see in. He watched as she stood at the front of the room, facing a small group of…children? He angled his body a little to see clearly into the room, listening to her voice come through the window. Her tone was kinder than he had ever heard it. Azriel watched with wide eyes as she demonstrated a defense move-a move he had taught her.

And now she was teaching it to children.

He watched for the rest of the class, amazed at how well the kids grasped onto the concepts she was teaching. He felt his heart skip when her laughter floated out the windows, a bright smile on her face as she looked at one of the students. He had never seen her like this before.

When the class ended he watched as one of the smaller children ran up to her and threw their arms around her legs. Azriel expected her to jump back at the touch, instead watching her bend down and wrap her arms around them. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe any of this. He turned and headed back to the House, the gift for Elain long forgotten.

***

He wanted to approach her. He wanted to ask about the children he saw her teaching. He had a sudden desire to know more about her, to see who she may be under that cold exterior.

Azriel should have known she wouldn’t let him.

It was a few days after he had spotted her in town, and he had finally found her alone in the little library. He cleared his throat as he approached her, hoping to get her attention. Of course, she ignored him. He shouldn’t have been hurt by it, but he had been so hopeful after seeing her with the children.

Azriel called her name.

Her head slowly turned to him, eyes blazing. “Yes?” She asked coolly. Azriel have a small smile, refusing to lose his nerve now.

“I saw you, in town? With the children? I-“ He started, cut off by her suddenly standing.

“Spying on me, are you?” She asked, anger all over her face.

“No! No! I was shopping, for Elain, and I happened to walk by!” Azriel was gesturing wildly, not wanting you to think he was following you. “I saw you and then I saw the children and I was interested. You were, nice to them.” He cursed the words as they came out of his mouth, sounding just as sorry as one could imagine.

She scoffed. “Why would I not be? They’re kids.” Her words were sharp and Azriel felt embarrassment creep up his neck.

“Well, you’re not really nice to anyone.” He bit out, temper rising as she laughed.

“You don’t know anything about me.” She said, looking at him curiously.

“Oh? Is that so?” Azriel felt the words coming out before he could stop them, all the things he had wanted to say for years. “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone get close to you. I tried to be your friend in the beginning, just for you to be cold and nasty. You are always cold and nasty. I’ve noticed you slowly losing the friends you have made, slinking off into the shadows. Do you ever stop to think that maybe it’s because you’re a cold-hearted bitch?”

She looked like he had slapped her.

“W-what?” She stumbled out, eyes wide.

Now it was Azriels turn to scoff. “Don’t pretend to be innocent now. You rarely speak to anyone except for Rhys, and when you do it’s usually to tell them to leave you alone! Even when I was trying to train you, you lashed out at me for just trying to help. You have always acted like I disgust you, always glaring at my hands. Do they really upset you so much that you have to act like i’m the worst thing you’ve ever encountered? That you have to look at me like that and flinch when I touch you? I tried to be nice to you, just for you to react like that.” He was breathing heavy, all the hurt coming to the surface.

He watched her eyes flash and then suddenly, she was yelling at him. “How dare you? You have no idea what you are talking about. Are you so self centered that you truly believe everything I do is about you? Do you ever stop for one second to think that maybe, just maybe, I have my own shit to deal with?” Her cheeks were colored red, her hands clenching into fists.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “We all have our own shit going on. It doesn’t mean we take all of our miserable feelings out on everyone else!”

“I don’t! I just don’t have any interest in getting close with you. Not everyone has to want to lick the ground you walk on, Shadowsinger.” She spat out the last word like it was dirt in her mouth.

“Why not? What have I ever done that makes you hate me so? What has any of us done? The only one of us you would talk to for years was Rhysand. Did you love him? Are you bitter now that he has a mate and no one will ever be interested in you?” Azriel knew that was a low blow, but his anger overrode him common sense.

“What are you talking about? The relationship between me and Rhysand is none of your business. For a spymaster, you’re truly horrible at reading a situation.” She was angry, angrier than she had been in decades.

Azriel didn’t care. “No one here likes you. They’ve all moved on from their short friendships with you. Even your precious Rhys has found someone else to occupy his time with. Why do you stay here? You have no one.” He felt the pain in his chest at the expression on her face.

She blinked quickly, fighting tears. “You are the cruel one, Azriel.” She turned and ran from the room, leaving him in the aftermath of their fight.

It was the first time she had said his name.

He felt it snap in his chest, the tug to follow you. He could barely react, the shock of it keeping him rooted to the spot. No, he thought. No. Not her. It wasn’t supposed to be her.

The mating bond didn’t care for his concerns.

***

Please let me know how you feel!! Honestly Pt. 2 should be out tonight or tomorrow, i’m pretty far into it. I’m thinking this will be a 3-4 part mini series!!!

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #cold hearts

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡Ｇｏｏｄ Ｆｏｒｍ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!yunho x chubby!fem!reader x best friend!mingi

♡ Genre: smut/a lil dash of fluff

♡ Summary: When you decide to have some late night fun with your boyfriend in the kitchen, the furthest thing from your mind is that your best friend might walk in and see you but when he does you're both more than happy to have him there.

♡ Word Count: 3k-ish

♡ Warnings: Yunho gives dom vibes. Mingi's a bit shy at first. Threesome (the boys don't touch each other though). They have a real thing for your chubby body. They're overall obsessed w/ you truly. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Oral sex (f & m receiving/heavy on the f receiving). Fingering. Multiple orgasms. Nipple play. Tit sucking. Hair pulling. Nibbling. Ass slapping. Overstimulation. Cum swallowing. Cum swapping. Squirting. A lil edging. Clit slapping. I use the word "pussy" cause I'm not a "cunt" gal. Lots of bodily fluids. Pet names (baby, angel)

♡ A/N: I've been writing a lot of really thoughtful, emotional pieces lately and this...is totally not one of them. It has it's moments but really it's 3k words of filth. I'm for sure gonna do a part 2 because I feel like I can do more with this but for now enjoy your hot girl moment, babes. You deserve it.

You'll never grow tired of this sound...

Yunho slurping down your juices, his soft lips pursed around your clit. Every decadent, unpredictable stroke of his tongue makes your thighs tremble. Three long, dexterous fingers pump in and out of your core drowning you in pleasure.

Yunho had sincerely wandered into the kitchen for a midnight snack when he stumbled upon you here. Bent over in the fridge with your deliciously plush ass peeking from the bottom of your red lace panties, you instantly became the only thing his taste buds craved.

You had your hand on an ice cold bottle of water when you felt two strong hands spreading your thighs apart. “Up a little late aren’t you?” he teased, stroking your slit through the barely there material. Your breath hitched, the cool air from the refrigerator the only thing to ease the heat consuming your body. “I couldn’t sleep and I—mmm—I just wanted—ah.”

Yunho tucked your panties to the side, sinking his middle finger into you. You were already so needy and wet, so easily turned on at the slightest bit of attention from him, that he could've never stopped there. “Just wanted what, baby?” he whispered, dropping to his knees, “Tell me what you want.” It tickled when you felt his lips brush against your skin, leading a trail of kisses around the curve of your ass and down your thighs.

“Yunie, I can’t—fuck, I can’t think” you moaned, holding onto one of the shelves to keep your legs from giving out. “Aww, baby” he smiled, slapping your ass hard enough to make it jiggle, “You don’t have to.”

Yunho knows where your sweet spot is. How to rotate his wrist and curl his finger at the perfect angle to make your body surrender to him. He had you wrapped around his finger—clenching—literally. You were dripping by the time he slipped your panties down to drink from you like the sweetest fountain. He made sure you came twice before he lifted you onto the counter and spread your aching legs open to taste you more.

Backed into a corner, one foot up on each side of the counter, you’re completely at his mercy and this is exactly where you want to be. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you stare down at him with those beautifully glossy eyes of yours.

Yunho tilts his head up to meet your gaze, fluffy dark brown hair framing his face, and it’s obvious he’s as blissed out as you are. He suckles at your clit as he pulls back just enough for you to see your sensitive bud twitching in response to him. Without warning he buries his face between your legs, humming with pleasure as he completely devours you.

You throw your head back, stars illuminating your vision. “Yunie, please don’t stop” you beg, fingers tangling in his hair as he wrecks you in the best way. Just when the pressure inside of you reaches its peak, your pussy ready to turn into a waterfall, you notice a figure standing in the doorway.

Mingi? Fuck. You’ve been so swept up in the moment, blinded by lust, that you completely forgot Mingi was staying over tonight.

It’s coming up on 4 years since you met Yunho and Mingi in a cramped club your friend’s band was playing at. The crowd that night was completely out of control. A swirling pit of drunks in desperate need of therapy. Just trying to get to the bathroom was a death wish. Yunho and Mingi didn’t have to step in to protect you but they did and they have ever since.

It never occurred to you to ask why they helped you. You saw it in the way they watched you at the restaurant after, like you were some shiny new toy they had acquired. Only Mingi treated you like a collector’s item, too delicate to take off of the shelf. He thought it better to admire you, imagine what it’d be like to play with you, but could never get the courage to do it.

Yunho, on the other hand, wasted no time taking you out of the box. Everything about you was too alluring for him to deny. His hunger for you then was as intense as it is now and he needed to indulge or he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Mingi hides it well, at least he thinks he does, but he regrets it. He wishes you knew how badly he wants you to be his in every sense of the word. Could you even fathom the things he’d do to trade places with his best friend right now?

Mingi knows that he should turn around—go back to the guest room, pretend nothing ever happened—but he’s too hypnotized by you to do it. “Hi, Mmm-Mingi” you giggle, noticing the thick bulge in his sweatpants. Mingi follows your gaze down to a cock hard enough to split you in two. You smile at him like you’d love to see him try it. You would. “Yunie,” you coo, tapping him on the back of the neck, “We have company.”

Yunho doesn’t register it at first, too intoxicated by your pussy to process anything that comes out of your mouth as coherent language. Mingi’s eyes widen and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head. He’s scared out of his mind and insanely horny, a combination of things he’s never felt before and has no clue what to do with. Yunho’s motions slow as he deprives you of his tongue. His fingers slide out of you, soaked in your arousal.

“Company?” he asks, rising to his feet, lips dripping wet.

You nod, pointing to Mingi, “I think we woke him up.”

Yunho lets out a low, playful chuckle, turning only halfway to greet his best friend. “Fuck,” Mingi mumbles, frantically scanning the kitchen for something else to look at. “I wasn’t looking! I swear! I came to grab my…” Spotting the spice rack beside him, he blindly grabs the first thing he sees. “Chili pepper flakes? Yeah, they’re so good for a late night snack, you know?”

Unconvinced but amused by his attempt, Yunho turns back to face you. He lures you into a kiss, sharing with you the delightfulness of your taste. He rests the back of his hand against your core, knuckles grazing your clit just enough to keep you on edge. “Can I share?” he asks between the feverish clashing of your tongues. “Mmmhmm” you gasp, your back arching at the return of his touch. Yunho shakes his head, hands riding your curves up to where your nipples poke through your shirt.

He takes your supple breast into his hand, massaging it as he rolls your nipple between his fingertips. “Baby, that won’t do. I need to hear you say it this time. Tell me what you want.” You tilt your head to the side, taking in the tall, handsome blonde watching you. “You can share me, Yunie” you whisper, breath tickling the side of his neck, “I want it.” He pinches your nipple, locking his other arm around your waist, “Aah, good girl. That wasn’t so hard was it? Now hold onto me.”

You do as you’re told and cling to him in time to be lifted from the smooth marble counter. Yunho kisses you once more as he spins you around. A dizzying transition that ends in you draped across the kitchen table. “Are you joining or are you just gonna watch?” Yunho asks Mingi, too distracted with the cute squishy belly poking from the bottom your shirt to actually face him.

Mingi can hear his heart thumping its way out of his chest. He has to be hearing things. “Oh, I—you can’t be—are you s…” he stutters, squeezing the life out of that poor bottle of chili pepper flakes. Yunho nibbles at your exposed belly before turning to confront the confusion on Mingi’s face, “Serious? Yes. I’m serious. I know you’ve always wanted her so…come get her.”

Mingi hesitates, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. The chance that Yunho will murder him if he actually tries seems higher than this not being a fever dream. Shifting to get more comfortable on the table, you hold your hand out to Mingi, your body calling to him like a siren beckons sailors to their doom. It’s enough to make him drop everything, to abandon all these years of pretending.

Mingi carefully makes his way over to you, taking your hand in his. You’re beautiful at any angle but there’s something about this one—you staring up at him from the filthiest position with the most innocent eyes—that really gets him.

It’s the perfect angle for you too, one your boyfriend knows you’ve fantasized about. These two broad shouldered angels looming over you, bathing you in their admiration. “Kiss me” you whisper, palming Mingi’s cock through his thick sweatpants. Mingi grunts at the euphoric release of tension as his lips latch onto yours, his kiss ravenous and sloppy. His platinum hair falls into your face, immersing you in the crisp floral scent of his shampoo.

Yunho watches as Mingi snatches your shirt up, taking his time to enjoy how your tits bounce when they pop free. Pushing your legs back, Yunho drags his fingers between your lips to pull back the hood of your clit. He flicks his thumb up and down, smiling as you arch and wiggle beneath him. Mingi sneaks a glimpse down at Yunho, breaking the kiss to hear your moans. For the first time he doesn’t have to listen through the walls, you’re making all those sinful noises right before his eyes and it’s glorious to behold.

“You’re so cute” Mingi says, cupping your fluffy cheeks. “You—ah—think so?” you ask, tucking a finger into the waist of his sweatpants. You slip your hand inside, taking as much of him into your hand as you can. Mingi pulls them down for you and you audibly gasp at the gorgeous cock that springs free. You glide up and down, circling the head with your thumb. Mingi cups one of your breasts, kneading the plush flesh as drags his tongue down to your nipple. “Mmhmm” he hums, stuffing his mouth full of you, “So fucking cute.” 

You lay there breathless—trying to talk your trembling body down from your next orgasm—when you feel the throbbing head of Yunho’s cock rub up and down your entrance. “You ready for me, baby?” he asks, raising your legs up to balance your ankles on his shoulders. When he does it presses him into you a little bit further and you cry out, raising your hips for more. “Mmm—ready for you Yunie.” Yunho snaps his hips, bottoming out in one thrust that sends electricity dancing through your body.

A soft tug brings Mingi in close enough that you can turn and lick the precum leaking from the tip of his cock. “Fuck, that feels so good” he moans, rising to push deeper into your throat. Your tongue curls on the underside of his cock, the textured roof of your mouth dragging along it as he fucks your throat.

This is what they’ve wanted since the night you met. What you’ve wanted too. It’s so satisfying, like scratching an itch you never could quite reach, to let them take you together. Their hands glide across your velvet smooth skin, exploring every inch of you. They’re so careful with you, matching paces to keep you comfortable. All you have to do is lay here and let them take care of you—let them worship you.

Yunho caresses your legs, fingers digging into your hips, “I feel you clenching, baby. You close?” You know he expects an answer even if you’re currently drooling around Mingi’s cock. You give him a muffled, “Yes.” But that’s not nearly enough for either of them. Mingi grabs you by the hair, pulling out to leave your mouth painfully empty. “Your voice is too pretty not to hear” he says, stroking your lips, “You ready to come for us, baby? Gonna let me see how good you look coming on your boyfriend’s cock?”

“Yes, Mingi. I’m gonna c—oh my—ah…” you whimper only for Mingi to shove himself back inside of you before you can finish speaking. Not that you’re complaining. The men exchange a brief glance, returning their attention to you with something new in mind. They move faster and harsher, struggling as much as you do to keep it together. They could both come right now from the way you pulsate your walls around Yunho or the way your throat muscles flutter around Mingi. But there’s no question that it has to be you first. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, the pressure bursting inside of you, and suddenly gravity doesn’t exist anymore. Mingi holds your hand and Yunho rubs your belly as you squirt down his length. Yunho licks his lips at the mess you've made of his pants, the wet spot growing the more you bounce down onto him. “That’s it, baby. Use my fucking cock, angel.” He lays his hand flat on your clit and slaps it just enough for you to feel the sharpness of the contact.

It makes you clench even tighter—the tightest he’s ever felt you—and he can’t take it anymore. He spills into you, filling you so far beyond your limit that your pussy’s gushing it back out at him before he’s even empty. Mingi plays with your nipples, pinching one and then the other, switching every time you get too used to the feeling.

Your mouth falls open, your overstimulated body beginning to go limp. You keep it open, tongue hanging out to welcome the thick ropes of come Mingi empties into your mouth. It collects in the back of your throat making your moans sound like tiny gurgles. What’s left leaks from the corners of your mouth and Mingi kisses you quickly, swapping the warm, salty liquid back and forth between the two of you until it’s nothing.

You stay entangled with them for an amount of time you can’t really grasp, coming down together. The room slips into silence. The only sound you hear is the symphony of heavy, uneven breaths. You look around at each other, the reality of what you’ve just done setting in. No one regrets it, you’d all be up for it again if one of you had it in you to ask, but it’s hard to know what to say.

You love each other more than anything. What you share is so special that you’ve all done everything to keep from fucking it up. To think that this might be what does. That the next thing to come out of your mouth could destroy it all. It’s terrifying.

Yunho clears his throat, stretching your legs for you so you don’t cramp up. “Can I get you anything? A snack?” You poke your bottom lip out, contemplating your snack options, “Uh, nah. I’m okay.” Noticing your throat sounds a little dry, Mingi grabs a bottle of water from the fridge—the very one you had your hand on earlier—and brings it to you. He twists the cap off and raises it to your lips, “You need to hydrate. I’m not asking.”

“Ooh, when’d you get so bossy?” you ask, taking a sip of water, “I like it.” Mingi takes a sip for himself before passing it to Yunho who chugs down the rest. “Shower?” Yunho says, swishing some water around in his cheeks. To you and Mingi it sounds like “swishwer”. Mingi squints his eyes at him, “Swishwer?” “I think he means ‘shower’” you whisper, trying to channel enough energy to sit yourself up. Yunho nods, swallowing the last few drops. “Yes! That! Shower. I’ll go run the water and you…” He points to Mingi and then to you, “Grab her and be careful. She’s expensive.”

Yunho walks off to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. You finally manage to sit up and swing around to face Mingi. He puts his arms around you, kissing the bridge of your nose, “Don’t worry about holding on but just…don’t scream.”

“Don’t scream? Wh—”

Mingi throws you over his shoulder and you do in fact scream. “What are you doing to my girlfriend?” Yunho shouts from the bathroom, flipping the shower on. Mingi carries you down the hall, your feet kicking as you giggle. “She’s fiiiine” he sighs, rolling his eyes, “It’s not like I’m gonna drop her.” Stepping into the bathroom Mingi pretends to trip for the fun of it.

“Put me down you psycho!” you whine, your life flashing before your eyes.

Mingi pouts, nuzzling his cheek up to your side, “I wasn’t really gonna drop you. So mean.” He lowers you down, letting you hold onto his arm while you gain your footing. You go to take your shirt off, it’s barely on, but the room still feels like it’s spinning.

“I got it, baby. Come here.” Yunho pulls you over to him and helps you out of your shirt. In return you help him out of his pants, tossing them off to the side. Yunho hops into the shower and you’re back at Mingi’s side, pushing his shirt up over his head. You never break eye contact once, committing every detail of each other’s naked bodies to memory.

You lead him into the shower and find yourself happily positioned between the two of them beneath the warm running water. Yunho cuddles you from the front and Mingi holds you from behind. The three of you fit together perfectly, like you were always meant to be like this.

Eventually you’ll have to say something. You’ll have to have an honest conversation about where things go from here. But for tonight you’ll stay in this moment together, letting your hearts revel in feelings your lips may never speak of again.

#ateez x reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x chubby reader #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #poly ateez x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

[hgfictionwriter]

Handy

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Sometimes you forget Jessie’s an engineer. A very thoughtful, but shy one at that. One who feels more comfortable renovating your apartment than telling you she likes you.

Warnings: No warnings.

A/N: I'm hearing some fluff is in order. Hope you all enjoy!

"Where do you want this?" Jessie asked as she stood holding a large box in the doorway to your new bedroom.  

You looked over your shoulder and pointed to the walk-in closet. "Over there would be great. Thank you." 

"No problem," Jessie replied as she walked over and set the box down. She looked around as she stood. "Are you doing anything with the shelving in here?" 

"Oh yeah," you said as you got up and joined her. "I'm going to move these shelves up and add another set here to create more storage." 

"Smart. That'll be good," Jessie affirmed as she scanned the space.

You tried not to stare, but her profile, curious eyes, and the way her baby hairs stuck to her face after several trips to and from the moving truck made it challenging.   

"Hey, I think that's everything." 

Both you and Jessie turned when Janine's voice filtered in from the bedroom, seeing Kelli standing beside her.  

"Oh amazing. Thank you so much, all of you. I'm sure your coach would have my head if he knew you helped me move, but I'm very grateful. And hey - no injuries! Knock on wood. I guess you all still have to make it home in one piece," you joked.  

"Anytime," Janine said as she crossed the room and gave you a hug. "The new digs look great. Condo ownership looks good on you." 

You laughed. "Thank you. And it's even better when highly trained athletes do all the heavy lifting for you." 

"No unpacking though," Kelli joked. "That's where I draw the line." You held up your hands in mock surrender. 

"I can handle that part. Thank you. Next round of dinner and drinks are on me." 

Once everyone left and you continued the tedious task of unpacking, your phone dinged with a text. You retrieved it to see Jessie's name on the screen. 

"Hey. I hope unpacking is going well. I just wanted to say that if you need any help redoing your shelves I'm happy to swing by. I like projects like that." 

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.  

"Sometimes I forget you're an engineer. You've done so much as is - I already rolled the dice by getting you to help me move furniture and precariously packed boxes. I don’t want to push." 

"I really don't mind! And setting up shelves is a lot less risky than holding the bottom end of the couch on the stairs while Kelli and Janine argue about how to angle it through a doorway." 

You laughed recalling the scene in your mind. She had a point. Plus, spending some time alone, just the two of you, wouldn't be unwanted.  

You'd met through Janine a few months back and had become friends in your own right since then, but it was still the norm that you typically only saw each other with Janine. This could be a nice change of pace. And, you know, if seeing her work in such a capacity would turn out to be eye candy - so be it.  

"Alright. You've convinced me. When are you free? And please, please know that if you change your mind it's really not a problem at all. Please don't feel pressured or obliged." 

"Excellent! Does next Sunday work for you? I'd say Saturday, but we have a game that afternoon." 

"I'm aware lol. I'll be there, after all. Sunday sounds great." 

"Right lol. Okay, Sunday it is! Let me know if you need me to pick anything up prior. I'm happy to." 

"You're too sweet. See you then." 

----- 

"You brought your own drill set?" You asked with an amused smile. The blush on Jessie's face was immediate. 

"Well, I didn't know what you had." Her voice rising in pitch. "And I have a spare battery. There's nothing worse mid-project than running out of a charge." 

"Nothing," you mocked affectionately and she averted her gaze as her cheeks grew redder. You smiled at her and ushered her to the walk-in. "Okay, well, between the two of us I think we're all set. Let's get started." 

It didn't take long for it to become Jessie leading and you helping. Going in, you felt you had a decent grasp of what to do, but as the work progressed, you realized how good it was that Jessie was here because she guided things with confidence and ease that you had to admit you probably wouldn't have had in her absence.  

You were expecting this to be an all day venture, but with Jessie at the helm the work went by quickly and smoothly.  

"Hand me that last shelf, please," she instructed calmly as she double-checked her work. 

You were ready with it and handed it up to her. You watched in what you hoped was subtle appreciation as she set it in place.

She stood perched on the ladder, wearing her black hat and her shirt was tucked in. The tape measure was hooked onto her pocket and she wore a soft look of concentration on her face. When she took the shelf, her biceps popped as she lifted it and set it down on the brackets with ease. The pencil tucked behind her ear was the cherry on top.  

Once she was confident the shelf was secure, she turned to you with a bright smile.  

"All done! What do you think?" 

"It's fantastic," you relayed, forcing yourself to refocus. And it was true. Not only was her workmanship thorough, but she'd tweaked a few things in your plan to optimize the setup even further. "Thank you so much. This is better than what I could've imagined. I owe you big time." 

She shrugged and focused on her feet as she stepped down off the ladder. "No, it's all good. It was fun." 

"Well, I really appreciate it. Truly," you went on, seeking eye contact, but she seemed to readily avoid it as she began cleaning up her tools. Eventually, she looked to you with a small smile. 

"Don't mention it. Thanks for letting me help." 

You rolled your eyes teasingly. "You're funny. Can I at least order us in some dinner and make you a drink or two?" You saw her begin to hesitate, a blush creeping up on her cheeks as she fidgeted. Early on, you would've immediately backed off, fearing you were making her truly uncomfortable, but by this point you knew she was just shy. And a bit skittish. You went on gently. "Consider it a small token of my appreciation." 

She gave you a crooked smile as she distractedly readjusted her hat before seeming to catch herself and clasped both hands in front of her. "Okay, sure. That sounds good." 

You two talked fairly late into the night and you noted how Jessie relaxed into the evening. Conversation was easy and naturally weaved from the light and fun to the more serious and heavy without getting uncomfortable or awkward. The night only came to an end because you had to work in the morning.  

"Thank you again for all of your help," you told her as she stood at your front door, shoes, jacket and backpack on. "Not only does the closet look great, but it was a lot of fun - thanks to you. I can't help but think about projects half that serious that I've done with exes and they've turned into all out brawls. So, thank you." 

Her posture straightened slightly and as she blushed with a nervous laugh. "Well, what can I say. We work well together." If you were right, the flush of her cheeks deepened. She averted her gaze, shuffling her feet a bit before she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and nodded over your shoulder.  

"You said you were going to change out the lighting fixtures in the living room, right?" She asked. Her smile morphed into a smirk. "I mean, I'm not an electrical engineer, but a couple lighting fixtures is no big deal. I could come over next week and help with those." 

You gave her a smirk of your own, unknowingly looking her up and down.  

"If you'd really like to. I certainly won't stop you." 

The easy confidence she was trying to channel a moment ago flickered before she gave you a nonchalant shrug.  

"Sure. It's not a problem." 

"Alright," you accepted. "I'm looking forward to it. Thanks again, and good night." You leaned forward and pulled her into a short hug - something you hadn't done before - and it seemed to catch her off-guard as she very belatedly put her hands up around you as you were already beginning to pull away, and even then, her movements were stiff and tentative. When you fully broke away her face was beet red.  

"Okay." Her voice was high and tight. She gave you a quick, awkward wave before turning to leave. "Have a good night."  

----- 

The next weekend rolled around and Jessie was yet again up on a ladder in your new apartment. She tilted her head and frowned in concentration as she installed the last set of screws on your new lighting fixture.  

"Okay, go ahead and turn the breaker back on," she told you as she stepped down and walked over to the light switch. You did as you were told. 

"Okay, done." 

The switch went on with a soft click and light filled the room. You watched her before looking up at the newly installed fixture. She smirked.  

"Looks good," she said. “How do you like it?”

“It's brilliant. Thank you again. But what I’m really interested in is this,” you said as you closed the space between you two and grasped her hand, she tensed at the contact, but didn’t pull away. You lifted her hand to see the cut on her knuckle.

“I knew it. Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said and at that she pulled her hand back, hiding it behind her back.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I know you are, but still,” you told her gently, noting the embarrassed look on her face. “Indulge me. Let me at least put a bandaid on it.”

She grumbled in contemplation but eventually conceded. You smiled to yourself at how her head jerked away when you glanced up from her hand to catch her staring at you.

When you finished placing the bandaid on her you released her hand and took a step back. You waited to catch her eye and spoke, “Make sure you clean that up more when you get home.”

Her cheeks grew pink and she rolled her eyes. You caught the hint of a smile on her lips though.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jessie stayed for dinner and a drink once more. Conversation flowed even easier, if that’s possible, than last time. You tried to hide the smile over how pleased you were by this since you and Jessie had been texting all week in between. It would've been understandable if you ran out of things to talk about by this point, but you didn’t - at all.

"I noticed there were a couple of dings in the drywall - probably from when we were moving stuff in. Probably Janine's doing - I'm much more conscientious," Jessie relayed with a facetious eye roll. "I could patch those up for you. I imagine the previous owners left some of the original paint or we could just get it paint matched." 

You smirked at her from across the couch.  

"You know, we could always just hang out - no reno job required. You don’t have to do something every time." 

She blushed and took a sip of her drink.  

"Oh, well, you know. I don’t mind." 

"Well, how about we just hang out next time. If you are desperate to repair the drywall even after that, well, have at 'er. But maybe a work-free, normal hang out would be nice," you told her with a soft laugh. She nodded, blush fading as she returned your smile.  

“Okay, that sounds like a plan." She swirled her drink, looking down at the churning liquid and speaking into it. "You could come over to my place? I could make us dinner. Or whatever." She finally mustered up the courage to look back up at you.

Now it was your turn to blush. You fiddled with your glass and offered her a hint of a smile. "Okay. That sounds nice." 

————

“Whoa. That’s fancy,” Jessie commented as you set down a nice bottle of Chardonnay on her counter.

“Well, it’s my first time over. I had to break out the good stuff for you.”

Jessie grinned and retrieved a couple of glasses for you before setting down two plates of food on the kitchen table.

“This looks amazing,” you told her as you looked at the meal she prepared. “And I can’t help but think this just isn’t fair. You did all this free work for me and now you’ve made me dinner.”

“Was it free?” She squinted at you teasingly. “You had to listen to me babble on about metric versus imperial for a solid 20 minutes there.”

“I didn’t mind. I’d listen to that any day. I like hearing your facts and tidbits and about whatever you're interested in,” you assured her and she tried to conceal her smile. “How’d you become so handy anyway? I mean, I know you have this engineering background now, but still.”

She shrugged. “I liked helping my dad with projects around the house. Helping him build stuff. It was just always fascinating to me to see things come together like that and to know you did it with your own two hands.”

“That’s cute. And very sweet,” you told her as you took a bite. She dismissed your comment with a small wave of her fork.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Well. I still think it’s cute. And I certainly reaped the rewards. Thank you again - seriously, for all of your help. You didn’t have to help me, and I really appreciate all the work you did.”

She took a sip of wine and peered at you over the glass, taking a moment to contemplate.

“There’s still that matter of the drywall,” she joked.

“You’re still on that, huh?” You said with a laugh. “What are we going to do when there are no projects left to work on?”

A faint blush began to form on Jessie’s face and she shuffled around in her chair a bit before taking a bite of food.

“There are always projects to be done. And if not, well, you’re the one who said we could hang out without a project to work on.”

You propped your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your open palm. “And the offer still stands. Clearly,” you gestured around her apartment. “If you’re interested.” Jessie dropped your gaze and flushed a deeper tone of pink.

“Yeah. I mean, we get along alright.”

You snickered a bit before taking a sip of your drink.

“What resounding affirmation," you said dryly and she shot you a bashful look. You smirked. "I guess it’s settled then.”

You polished off the bottle of wine that evening and your conversation carried you late into the night. You made a point of not checking the time and Jessie made no attempt to either. You had to work in the morning, but you just didn't care. You'd deal with the consequences later.

At some point though, an inevitable yawn escaped Jessie.

“Oh, I should let you get to sleep,” you offered, though not yet moving from your spot on the couch next to her. You were sitting across from one another and you were very aware of how if either of you shifted in a particular way, your legs would brush.

“No, it’s fine,” she dismissed. “I’ll get my second wind here in no time.” You chuckled and finally checked your phone. Your eyes went wide.

“Oh shit,” you laughed. “Well, I’ve worked off of less sleep before.”

“You didn’t tell me you were working,” she frowned at you. “Yeah, some clients are in from out of town. It’s okay, I wanted to hang out with you.” You reluctantly rose from the couch and she followed. “As much as I'm enjoying myself, I should go. I can get about 4 hours of sleep if there are no delays on the train.”

“You are not taking the train,” Jessie told you in the most stern voice you’d ever heard from her. It actually caught you off guard and you ignored the stirring in your chest at her display.

“Fine. An Uber,” you conceded.

“No. I’ll drive you,” she countered.

“Don’t be silly.” You waved her off. “You’re tired too and I’m not making you drive 30 minutes across town and back at this hour.”

“Then…I don't know, just spend the night.” She immediately held up her hands in defense. “Not like that. I just mean…it’s super late, getting home is going to be a pain. I’ll drive you home in the morning whenever you’re ready.”

“Jessie…” It was tempting. The logic wasn’t entirely bulletproof, but reasonable enough.

In the time you took to start contemplating, Jessie had run to the closet and started pulling out spare pillows and blankets. You looked at them when she returned and gave her a discerning look. You didn’t feel uncomfortable, you just didn’t want to intrude.

“I’ll take an Uber in the morning.” You told her and she gave you an easy smile as she began setting up the couch.

“I’ll drive you,” she repeated nonchalantly.

“Oh my god. You’re so stubborn,” you complained half-heartedly.

“Sometimes,” she admitted with a shrug as she went to her room for a few moments and came back out with a set of pyjamas.

“Don’t tell Janine. She’ll never let me hear the end of this,” you warned in mock petulance as you went to take the clothes from her. She pulled her fingers across her lips, feigning a zipping motion.

“She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it either, so I'd say we're now partners in crime,” she laughed, but held the clothes back from you. “These are mine. Yours are on the bed.”

“Huh?” You asked, giving her a blatant look of confusion.

“I’m sleeping out here. You take the bed,” she returned lightly and before you could retort she gently began to corral you towards her bedroom.

“Jessie.” You protested. “Are you nuts? I’m taking the couch.”

“Incorrect,” she refuted before giving you one final, soft push into the room. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She looked up at the ceiling, seeming to calculate something in her head. “6 am?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, still giving her a lingering look of disapproval. Before you could conjure a retort, she went on.

"This is my house, so what I say goes," she said rather haughtily, coupled with a subtle smirk. She was evidently very pleased with herself and her mannerisms had you too distracted, a small flutter echoing in your chest, so you let it be. You rolled your eyes.

“Fine. Okay. Well, if you change your mind - feel free to kick me out. Of your bedroom or the apartment - either is fine.”

“Now who’s nuts,” she quipped. Her light and easy demeanour wavered slightly as she paused in the doorway and ran a hand through her hair. “Um, well, bathroom’s through there. Help yourself to whatever. Good night.”

You were still in vague disbelief about how the last part of the night had unfolded as you lay in Jessie’s bed, wearing her clothes. Had you previously imagined being in Jessie’s bed? Yes. Did you imagine this? No. Certainly not.

All things considered, you slept pretty well. You didn't expect yourself to, so it was a surprise when your alarm went off. It took you a few moments for your mind to reconcile the unfamiliar surroundings, but you quickly came to. You sat up, the first rays of morning light illuminating the room and you observed them in a more lucid headspace than you had the night before.

The room was neat, organized, minimalistic in a way, but still had plenty of things that made it Jessie. A few framed photos of family and friends, her camera, a few, select books neatly displayed, some cute trinkets from her trips around the globe - no medals on display though. How typical.

A sound from the kitchen pulled you from your observations with a frown. You thought you were hearing things at first until you heard a few more faint sounds.

You quickly got changed and tentatively opened the bedroom door a crack to peer out. Not only was Jessie up already, she was in the middle of making breakfast. You opened the door the rest of the way with a puzzled look on your face. She turned to you with a smile.

"Morning! How did you sleep?"

"How long have you been up?" You asked instead. She glanced at her watch.

"I don't know. 30 minutes maybe? So, how did you sleep?" She repeated her inquiry.

"Shockingly well," you replied with a light laugh as you leaned on the kitchen counter and watched her work. "How about you? Miss I-insist-on-taking-the-couch."

She shot you a smirk over her shoulder as she scrambled the eggs in the frying pan. "I slept perfectly well, thank you," she relayed pointedly. "Coffee?" She asked.

"Please."

"Black, right?"

You smiled at her. "Yes, thank you. Can I do anything to help you?"

"Nope, just about done," she told you as she handed you a travel mug with steaming hot coffee. "For the road," she explained.

You watched Jessie as she turned back to the stove and continued making breakfast. For a split second, you pictured yourself as a couple in this moment. Easy mornings together, sharing breakfast and coffee, talking about your day ahead, kissing each other goodbye and going your separate ways until you came home to one another. You cleared your throat and shook out your head subtly as you came back to reality. You didn't want to get too far ahead of yourself.

You both ate a quick breakfast together, and took your toast and coffee to go. Jessie navigated through traffic on the way to your apartment. You scolded yourself internally for how you found something as simple as Jessie driving, attractive. Okay, maybe you really had it bad for her.

"I have to say, I feel like I'm 18 again or something," you joked. "Getting 4 hours of sleep, going through a whole bunch of hoops just to get to school - or work in this case - on time. It's ridiculous. But it was fun." You took a sip of your coffee. "I bet you were in bed by 10 every night in uni - minus late game nights, if that was a thing. But 8 hours of sleep, very responsible, all your readings and homework done."

Jessie shot you a mild glare.

"I've had some wild nights," she countered, not sounding entirely convincing, or even remotely, really. It endeared her to you more.

"Oh yeah, I bet you were a real bad girl," you teased. Jessie rolled her eyes.

"Oh, and like you were."

You sat primly and gave her a sly smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know."

You bantered back and forth the rest of the drive, and again, it felt like you were already something you were not. You found yourself lamenting your arrival as she pulled up to your building. Pushing aside your disappointment, you instead leaned over the middle console and gave Jessie a fleeting kiss on the cheek. She startled at the touch.

"Thanks for driving me. And for letting me spend the night. And for dinner," you frowned as you added things to the list. "I've gotta start pulling my weight here."

"No," she said in a strained voice, her cheeks flaring up as she glanced at you before her eyes darted away. She laughed nervously and scratched the back of her neck. "Don't mention it."

You gave her forearm a quick squeeze, a blush threatening to form on your own face at how firm the muscles were there, and stepped out of the car. You walked to your door, quickly strategizing if or when to turn back and wave when you heard her call out your name. You turned around with a puzzled look on your face.

"Uh, I could drive you to work? When you're ready?" She offered from the car through the now-open window. Her face burned impossibly brighter red. "It'll be faster than the bus."

You smiled openly at her.

"Oh, you're just spoiling me now." She smiled in return. "Well, who am I to say 'no'?" ------

A/N: Part Two is available here.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso #woso x reader #jflem #woso imagine #canwnt #portland thorns

[ddejavvu]

idea! mutual pining bau!fem!reader and hotch where they’re at a holiday fbi gala thing, all dressed up pretty & fancy. but, oh no! her shoe slipped off under the table and she can’t get it! so hotch does and goes to put it back on her foot all gentlemanly and notices her stockings 😳

the stockings in question: tumblr com/7eyrani/726521459458097152

Morgan is asking for the kick that you deliver to his shin, you think. Sometimes he needs to be humbled, and the toe of your pointed high heel is exactly what he deserves.

"Ow!" He hisses, playing up his dramatics as he rubs the sore spot through his dress pants, "Y/L/N, you don't need to carry a gun on the job, just nail someone with one of those shoes."

You want to triumphantly celebrate your victory, but you can't. Upon contact with Derek's calf, too muscled and stiff - seriously, what did he need all of that definition for? - your shoe had come loose from your heel, and it clatters to the ground somewhere beneath the table.

"Shit," You grumble, "Does anyone feel my shoe on the floor?"

Derek snickers, "Karma's a bitch."

"So am I." You narrow your eyes at him, "Just wait until I get it back, Morgan, I'll aim for the jugular."

"Okay! Okay," He holds his hands up in surrender, reaching for his glass moments later to fill his mouth with water instead of playful banter that you can't handle right now.

"It's here," Aaron calls from two seats left of Derek, "Y/L/N, stay in your seat, your dress is cut too low for you to bend down."

He's right. If you take the shoe from him and hunch over to fit it back over your foot, you might just spill out of the neckline of the gown you're wearing. It's with warm cheeks and a sheepish nod that you let Aaron duck beneath the table, reaching across Prentiss to take your stocking-clad foot into his hands.

He's astoundingly gentle as he grips your ankle, angling the shoe over your foot and securing it tightly against your heel. It's a delicate touch and he's nothing but gentlemanly, that is, until you set your foot back down on the floor, and your dress rides up your thigh, revealing the rather raunchy pattern of the hem on your stockings.

The silverware jumps on the table as Aaron's head collides harshly with the underside. Alarm paints itself over your colleagues' faces, and yours only gets warmer as Aaron emerges from the table, mind fresh with the scene of two people intertwined in a passionate embrace.

His eyes meet yours immediately, and you wish you could look away to save yourself the embarrassment. But you can't, and his eyes bore into your own, dark and slightly wider than usual. You're being ogled by every member of your team and you're barely able to muster a mumbled, 'Thank you.'

He's probably speaking about your shoe mishap, but when he says 'anytime' in that deep, smooth voice of his, you hope he's talking about your stockings.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

[yuzuocha]

HEARTSTRING FORTISSIMO. — セイヤ [XAVIER]

a spicier ending to xavier's 'heartstring symphony' memory. gn!mc

age rating ‣ 16+ [suggestive but not explicit]

warnings ‣ softcore, power play, minor asphyxiation. besides that, there's nothing much to warn about. still, beware lol

"Are 'small animals' like me pushovers? Do enlighten me, since you seem to know everything."

Perhaps it was because you haven't seen him in weeks, but it seemed you forgot what Xavier was really like. Yes, he is gentle. Yes, he is considerate. Yes, he is sweet. But his kind demeanor also held something sinister.

You haven't quite pondered about it much, but Xavier had a quiet yet possessive streak. He'd always at the very least have pinkies interlocked with yours when together. He'd always somehow teleport to you just when the enemy Wanderer was about to land a fatal blow. He always knew where you were.

He was a wolf in sheep's (or in his case, bunny's) clothing. He always has been.

“When faced with a hunter who knows my weaknesses and how to take advantage of them…” Xavier’s breath fanned your face, his right hand brushing against your temple. Although gentle, his touch felt electrifying. It felt dangerous. It was dangerous.

The breaths that were blanketed on your lips were soon replaced with lips of his own. You let out a short gasp at the stark contrast between his usual and current kisses — they were usually soft and mellow yet endearing, but now they were intense, brisk and hungry.

“Haa—”

A sigh of surprise left your lungs when you felt Xavier’s tongue glide slightly across your teeth. Rookie error — he wasn’t going to let you breathe for a while.

“...just what, exactly, do I do?” Xavier rasped in between kisses, one hand snaking up to support your body and the other coercing your head to a better angle.

With you growing increasingly lightheaded the more fervent and desperate his kisses became, a thrilling shiver crawled down your spine hearing his growl. You knew the answer to his question down to your bones.

You can only get devoured.

Xavier suddenly pulled away, finally giving you a chance to breathe. He gently tipped your chin upwards for your eyes to meet his blazing gaze while you caught your breath. You felt your body burn in places he locked his eyes with.

“...surrender,” You were able to mumble out. “You can only… surrender, or else...”

He whispered while wiping a lone tear that escaped your eye, “Or else what, I’ll get eaten or something?”

“Is that it, love?"

There was a pause of silence between your noses that were inches apart before Xavier dove down and pressed his lips against your neck, humming in satisfaction hearing you gasp every time he nipped your skin. His callused fingers started to tease your shirt off whilst kisses butterflied over his slow but precise work.

“...I’m sorry, I should’ve responded to your messages,” Xavier paused for a moment, murmuring the apology at your sternum. His hot breath on your bruised skin made you slightly arch your back. “And about my injuries and lack of reply… I promise it won’t ever happen again.”

“...will there be a day where you’ll fall asleep and never wake up?” His eyes softened at your reply as he leaned upwards. You felt his lips pecking your forehead, each of your eyelids, your cheeks and your nose before pausing right in front of your face.

“If such a thing ever happens, you—and only you—must remember to wake me up,” Xavier whispered, his hand sliding to your hips and his hair tickling your nose. You felt something graze up against your abdomen which lit up the fire burning at the core of your stomach. Your suspicions were confirmed seeing Xavier’s reddened ears gently glow through the light of the full moon.

Ah. You indeed missed him, and he missed you too. Greatly.

After a silent pause, you circled your legs around Xavier’s back and kissed his facial features just as he did to yours. His eyes slightly widened at your forwardness, however the surprise faded as quickly as it came as he cradled your body in his arms while pulling you up, the moon shining upon you and Xavier at each others’ full glory.

“I will.”

That was all he needed.

HEARTSTRING FORTISSIMO — END.

tysm for reading! comment down below if you'd like to be a part of the tag list, and if you can, please do consider reblogging! it helps out a lot ;; w ;;

yuzuocha © 2024 — all rights reserved.

#xavier love and deepspace #xavier #love and deepspace #lad xavier #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier x mc #yuzuocha ‣ works #i'm always beta reading and editing smh

[notsosweetchan]

˚ʚ♡ɞ Making The Boy Mine ˚ʚ♡ɞ

Warning: Smut

Paring: | Hyunjin x Reader |

They were both aware that what they were doing was wrong. Hyunjin was already seeing someone, but their relationship wasn't serious. As for Y/N, she wasn't involved with anyone at the moment. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut as Hyunjin's tongue danced against hers, her heart racing.

This was wrong, but she couldn't help herself; the desire between them was too strong. His hands roamed down her back, gently tracing the contours of her spine before cupping her ass and pulling her body closer to his.

She moaned into the kiss, feeling his hardness pressing against her stomach. He broke away from their kiss, his forehead leaning against hers as they caught their breath.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, voice rough and low.” It’s not fair to her, but I can't stop thinking about you."

Y/N looked into his dark chocolate-brown eyes, her own reflecting the same turmoil. "I know," she whispered. "But I can't stop either."

Without another word, they both surrendered to their desires as Hyunjin scooped her up, carrying her over to the couch. He laid her down gently, their lips crashing together once more as he began to unbutton her blouse.

Her hands were just as frantic, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. As they rid themselves of their clothes, they exchanged heated glances, the air between them thick with lust and anticipation. Hyunjin's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake as his fingers moved to unclasp her bra.

He teased her breasts, flicking his tongue around her hardened nipples, eliciting moans from the depths of Y/N's throat she didn't know she was capable of making. His touches were slow and feather-like but firm enough to drive her wild. She arched her back, craving more of his touch.

"Hyun-ah," she moaned, running her fingers through his soft black hair.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me you want this, Y/N," he said, his voice a husky whisper in her ear.Tell me you're sure."

"I'm sure," she breathed, her voice shaking slightly. "I want this. I want you."

That was all the encouragement he needed as he descended between her thighs, his tongue dancing over her already sensitive clit. Y/N arched her back further, her nails digging into the couch cushions as pleasure coursed through her body.

Hyunjin knew just how to touch her, making every nerve ending in her body sing with ecstasy. He curled his fingers inside her, his tongue and fingers working in sync to bring her pleasure she had only ever dreamt of.

"God,Hyunjin," she moaned, her toes curling. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to her pleas, however; in fact, he seemed to take it as a challenge to tease her even more. He slowed down his motions, sending her over the edge of insanity. "Hyunjin, please!" she whimpered, begging for release.

Suddenly, he stopped and looked up at her with a mischievous grin. "Not yet," he said, leaving a trail of kisses up her stomach before positioning himself between her legs.

Y/N whimpered in frustration but soon forgot everything else as he entered her slowly, filling her completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his eyes locked on hers as he began to move inside her, picking up speed with each thrust.

Y/N's nails dug into his back as he angled his hips to hit that spot deep inside that made her see stars. So lost in the pleasurer they didn’t hear his phone ring , vibrating on the coffee table. The sound of voice message started to play “ Hey Hyunjin I know it’s late but I was wondering if you wanted to go on date tomorrow night.”

Either of them didn’t even notice the voice continuing “I know it’s short notice but I really want to see you again and I thought maybe we could try that new sushi place you were telling me about...”

This spurred Hyunjin on even more, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he picked up the pace. Y/N's moans drowned out the rest of the message, her entire world narrowing down to him and the way he felt inside her.

Hyunjin thrust into her, his hips pistoning as he took her breath away with each powerful stroke. They were both lost in the heat of the moment, their shared secret desire consuming them both. Y/N's hair tickled his chest as her head tilted back, eyes closed tightly as she arched her back to meet his movements.

He bit his lips to stifle a moan as he felt her tight heat squeeze around him, loving the way she felt underneath him. Her warmth enveloped him, drawing him even further into this forbidden encounter.

His hand found hers on the couch and laced their fingers together, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Their skin was slick with sweat from the passionate movement, bodies moving in perfect unison despite the guilt that still lingered between them.

He leaned down again to capture her lips in a fiery kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as they wrestled together in a heated dance. The taste of each other filled his senses, and he could feel her wet heat against his shaft as she lifted her hips to meet him once more.

She could hear the sound of their ragged breathing mixing together, the smell of their sweat and arousal filling the room.

It only fueled their desire for each other, making it hard for either of them to think about stopping or pulling away. They were lost in this haze of lust and longing, pushing aside any thoughts of what could or should happen next.

As they moved together faster and faster, Y/N wrapped her legs around Hyunjin's waist, pulling him deeper into her core. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she tried to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible – it was addictive and consuming all at once.

Hyunjin's hand found its way between her legs, his thumb brushing against her clit as he continued to thrust inside her. The pressure was building within her core, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer.

"Hyunjin," she moaned, her voice unrecognizable even to her own ears. "I...I can't...oh, god..."

That was all it took for Hyunjin to pick up the pace even more, his hips slamming into hers with a renewed fervor. He couldn't help but moan into her neck as he felt himself getting closer too, his entire body tense with the effort of holding back.

"Cum with me," he panted against her ear before they both gave in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Y/N's world exploded around her as she climaxed, her body tensing up and arching off the couch. Hyunjin followed closely behind, gripping her hips tightly as he came inside her.

They lay there, panting for air, their chests heaving in unison as they tried to catch their breath.

Finally, Hyunjin pulled away, collapsing beside her on the couch.

They both lay there, trying to regain any semblance of composure. It was only then Y/N spoke up “ Are you going to call her back?” she asked softly not looking at him.

Hyunjin placed a hand on her thigh, guiding her to look at him “No, I’m to addicted to you and I don’t think I could ever want anyone else but you” he said stroking her cheek gently.

Y/N's heart raced in her chest as she met his eyes. She knew that this boy was hers.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagine #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz smut #hyunjin imagines #skz hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz

[kingkatsuki]

— distance

Based on this post sent to me by @toutoshodoroki. You know I can’t resist Bakugou in a long distance relationship.💕

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: fluff, long distance relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

Bakugou[7.34PM] — One New Message

Your face practically glowed as you reached across the desk for your phone, snatching it greedily as you held it to your face to unlock.

It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to be awake at this time, as you tried to do the math in your head to work out what time it was for him. His work often called for unsocial hours, but just knowing that you could now steal a few precious moments before he had to start work was enough for you. Today had been hell, as well as much of your week— so this was already the highlight of your day.

The distance was hard, but finding the time for each other seemed to be even harder.

There were no words attached to the message, only a photograph that you were quick to click. The picture was of departure boards which seemed as though he was inside a train station, no— an airport.

You[7.37PM]: Going somewhere?

Bakugou[7.38PM]: First flight out. Checking in now.

You knew Bakugou’s job was demanding, and it often meant he disappeared for long periods at a time. It was something you fought about a lot at the beginning of your relationship. You remembered the moment you’d called him a catfish, and you’d blocked him on all platforms— until you received a tweet from the Official Dynamight agency account which solidified the fact that you were in fact talking to the number two Pro.

It was something you were beginning to come to terms with, eagerly awaiting his return and appreciating the missions where he was allowed to contact you. A welcome change to have him closer to your timezone so you could fall asleep on the phone together or feel like you were actually with each other. Waiting at home for your boyfriend to finish work and take you out.

It was selfish really, that it wasn’t the fact that it could be dangerous or he could get hurt that upset you. Of course, you worried about him, really you did. But what you hated more than anything about when he travelled for missions was that it meant that it became harder to talk to him.

You[7.39PM]: How long this time?

Bakugou[7.45PM]: I’m thinking two weeks.

Your stomach lurched at the thought that you might not be able to talk to him much for the next two weeks, grimacing over the fact that your week had most certainly gotten worse.

Curling up into a ball on your couch as you continued to text him back, trying to get as much of his attention as possible before he stepped onto the flight.

You[7.46PM]: Where to this time?

Bakugou[8.05PM]: Sorry, princess. Had to get through security.

Bakugou[8.05PM]: Grabbing a quick coffee. It’s too damn early for this shit.

He’d ignored your question about where he was heading, which made you think it was going to be one of the more serious missions. The ones where he couldn’t disclose his location, and that he had to surrender his cell phone at the airport before he stepped onto the flight. Wondering if you’d have enough time to call him before he left, a quick FaceTime today would be better than nothing.

The call connected as Bakugou came into view. Holding the phone in its usual position by his waist as it gave you a view of his handsome jaw, a large coffee in his other hand and a hold-all slung over his shoulder as he made his way through the quiet airport.

“Hey, beautiful.” He grinned as he pulled the phone closer to his face to get a better look at you, “Look so pretty today.”

“No I don’t,” You whined. He was the one that looked pretty, even after what you supposed was minimal sleep.

“You callin’ me a liar now, huh?” He laughed, moving the phone as he dumped his bag from his shoulder. The change in angle gave you a view of the grey sweats and trainers he was wearing.

“I would never,” You laughed, already feeling all your stress from the day begin to leave your body.

“Good, you better not.” He chuckled.

“But you never told me you were going away, you know.” You mumbled, disappointed you had to find out this way.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” His chin disappeared inside the neck of his hoodie as he stared down at his phone with crimson eyes, “I only booked the ticket last night.”

“Oh,” The trip had been that late notice, “So where are you going?”

Bakugou pressed the screen as he turned the direction of the camera, pinching with his fingers as he zoomed in on the departure screen at his gate. The movement blurry, but you could make out the name of the destination.

Your city.

“Wait, what?” You held your breath, your heart was doing somersaults as you waited for his confirmation.

“Yeah,” He grinned, turning the camera back to face him, “Heard there’s a pretty girl that lives in this city. So I’m gonna go and find out for myself.”

“You’re lying.”

“There you go again callin’ me a liar, sweetheart,” Bakugou scrunched his nose, “You really trying to make me cry in front of all these people?”

“What the fuck,” You couldn’t believe it, after all this time he was finally coming to see you.

Tears began to cling to your lashes, pooling in your waterline as they threatened to spill over.

“You were saying last night that no one ever shows up or makes the effort for you when it counts, that no one takes the time, remember?” Bakugou continued.

You nodded on the other side of the phone, your throat tight from the tears that were now streaming down the apples of your cheeks.

“So I’m doin’ it, I’m making the effort.” He shrugged, his eyes softening, “Don’t cry, princess. You know I fuckin’ hate when you cry.”

“I’m sorry,” You sniffed, barely managing to get it out between sobs, “Are you really coming for two weeks?”

“Yeah I am, baby,” Bakugou smiled, “If you’ll put up with me for that long.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever be able to get time off work.” You’d both tried to meet up in the past, but your schedules could never quite make it work.

“Yeah, but I think it’s about time I stop talking about how much I care, and show you instead.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff

[comatosebunny09]

kindle [ pt. 2 ] | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, pining, terms of endearment (doll, sweetheart)

part 2 to this. hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading! ❤️

It’s a date. Or at least, you assume it is. 

Given the way Leon had sauntered up to your desk, all smirking and sheepish, it was only fair to surmise he had asked you out on one. 

Took him long enough.

He came to you through the dull murmur of the office. When the sun crept towards the horizon, bathing your cubicle in an ethereal orange. You were elbow deep in SIR reports, gnawing on the cap of your pen. Irritation rested between your brows. If you glared any harder, the information sprawled before you would surely combust.

Paperwork was the bane of your existence. Dodging chainsaws, claws, and teeth seemed more appealing. You’d gladly take the cool steel of a beretta biting into your palm over that of a ballpoint. 

Thick, work-worn fingers splayed on your desk, drawing your attention northward. You couldn’t help the slight quirk of your lips. Couldn’t parry that pleasant, fluttery feeling in your gut at the sight of him—your partner, that is. 

Leon’s hair was ruffled with errant strands sticking this way and that. Irises glimmered like sea glass, dancing over your features with boyish fascination. His smile was dimpled, and crow’s feet hung to the corners of his eyes. Dark stubble dappled his chin. His tie was loosened around his neck, while his dress shirt lay slightly untucked and wrinkled. It seemed the day had been as kind to him as it was to you.   

You found yourself resting your cheek in your palm as warmth flooded your innards. Fell under his spell, submerged beneath its shadowy depths, unable to resurface. Not that you wanted to. He held your heart in a vice. You cautioned a “Sup?” wincing at how your voice crackled. How you sounded prepubescent, and you cleared your throat to ward off your nerves.

Leon’s replying chuckle was like velveteen. You felt it in your stomach. Felt it play up your spine like a xylophone. You always found his voice endearing, the low gravel of it sticky and dulcet to your ears. 

As if magnetically drawn to them, you watched his lips, soft and rose-petal red, form around words. Your own tingled as you recalled kissing that very mouth a few nights ago. Committed their texture to memory, quelling the urge to touch your lips. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed and the tendons in his neck flexed. You instinctively swallowed, readjusting yourself in your chair.

“Not much,” Leon said, shifting his weight onto one foot. Still propped up on your desk in an easy slouch, swaddling you in the aroma of gun oil and teakwood. Of course, his sleeves were cuffed, baring his sinewy forearms. How badly you wanted to touch them. Drag your fingertips down the forked veins beneath, conjuring the prettiest sounds from his throat. “Just checkin’ on my favorite partner.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m your only partner, dickhead.”

“I dunno,” he taunted, standing tall with folded arms. From this angle, it was easy to make out the power of his body. His clothes did little to disguise it. Your throat grew dry, and your voice caught in the bowels of your chest. “Marie over in HR is gunnin’ for your spot.” 

It always surprised you how quickly you could move. How swiftly you could retrieve your stapler and chuck it at him. Leon snorted as he ducked, the damned thing striking a far-off window. He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a youthful crinkle to his eye. 

“Relax, doll. I’m just messin’.” 

You countered with a hmph, clearly over his shit.  

Leon replaced his palms on your desk once the dust settled. Broke the heavy silence by asking, “How’s the admin stuff comin’?” Feigning interest in the documents littering your cubicle, he retrieved a packet, skimming through it with disinterest. Like he wasn’t using you to procrastinate, a pile of pristine, white paper leering at you through his office window. 

With a weighted sigh, you answered, “It’s coming.” A quiet snicker garnered another eye-roll. “Oh, grow the hell up, Kennedy.” 

“Never. You like me like this.”

You cut your eyes at him mid-scribble. Sat your pen down with a definitive clack. These childish games you played made you feel giddy. Like two grade-schoolers in the sandbox, clearly taken by each other. Alright. You’d bite. 

“Says who?” 

It was as if you initiated a challenge. As if you’d stuck out your tongue and said make me. Leon took the bait, inching towards you, huffing out a chuckle. He crept over your desk with the finesse of a jaguar quietly stalking through the bush. Poured himself into your personal bubble, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves, staining your neck, a shiver sifting through your bones. His breath was hot against the shell of your ear. Dizzying as he deliberately exhaled against your skin.

His timbre was dark with mischief as he finally crooned, “Says that dumb little look on your face, sweetheart.”

You’d never punched him harder. 

Leon drew back, gulping down air between a peal of laughter. It became customary for him to torment you like that. To play on the attraction swimming between you, dismantling your resolve and leaking through the fissures of your heart. When the moment became too serious, he often sprinkled in a quip or two to keep you at arm’s length. It was frustrating. How he could act so cool despite the noticeable change in your relationship. 

“What do you even want, Kennedy? I’ve got shit to do,” you sighed, exasperation wading in your tone. Your forehead collided against the cherrywood with a soft thunk. A migraine bloomed on the horizon. Leon’s teasing only served to exacerbate it.

His tone was muffled. Hesitant, rivaled by the idle chatter of your coworkers. “Well, if you must know, I … wanted to see if you had dinner plans?” 

Magma filled your belly. Your eyes shot to him, a sheet of paper comically glued to your forehead. You were acutely aware of yourself, sitting up straighter, smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire, fretting over your hair. “Dinner? Uh, m-me? N-no. Well—”

“Cool. Now you do have plans. Seven sound good?” 

Your expression was awestruck. Well, now, this was certainly a new development. You blinked away your confusion, nodding dumbly. Caught a glimpse of a smirk canting Leon’s lips before he stepped out. Before he tapped your desk with finality, maneuvering out of your office space. 

“Wait! Wait, is … is this a date?” you called to his retreating back.

“Take it however you want,” Leon supplied, a hand raised in farewell. 

You sank into your chair once he disappeared within the maze of cubicle walls. Left at the mercy of your thundering heart and flaring nerves. The goofiest of grins lay claim to your countenance. You felt reinvigorated, taking up your pen. Scrawled away like an enamored fool, scanning through the catalog of your mind for what you would wear.             

<< part 1

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #re4 leon x reader #resident evil 4 x reader #re4 x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #tw: language #cw: reader insert #kindle series

[barnesafterglow]

uncontrollable

summary: the rising tension with bucky comes to a head

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: literally all smut no plot (minors dni) [oral (f receiving), unprotected sex]

a/n: um hey

main masterlist | @theafterglowlibrary

Grunts filled the air, even through the music of your headphones, and you turned the volume up louder. Two minutes left in your plank, then you would reward yourself with a peek. Your arms shook as the time counted down, and you finally collapsed on your stomach, panting at the exertion.

Forcing yourself up on your knees, you granted yourself the pleasure of looking towards the other side of the gym. At the only other person there.

The sight you were greeted with was glorious: your neighbor, Bucky, working out, sweat staining his grey t-shirt and the rippling muscles of his back. He must have sensed your stare, because his eyes met yours in the floor to ceiling mirror, a small smirk playing on his lips. You quickly averted your eyes, picking yourself up and making your way to the small counter on the other side of the room.

You made a point to turn your back towards him, grabbing a water from the mini fridge and indulging in the cool feel of it sliding down your throat.

The two of you had been playing at this game for weeks now. Your schedules seemed to line up to where you were the only people in the apartment’s private gym at the late hour; you circled each other, sweaty and ridiculous, and the tension had been slowly mounting.

You were dragged from your thoughts as a pair of hands gripped your waist, and instinctively you brought your elbow back into Bucky’s abdomen.

Ripping your headphones from your ears, you spun around to see him half bent over, laughing between wheezes.

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hissed. “Don’t just sneak up on me like that.”

“If you didn’t have your music turned up so damn loud, you would have heard me calling your name. And walking over here. And then snapping my fingers to try to get your attention.” He finally stood upright, still rubbing his stomach from your hit. “This was just a last resort.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the counter.

“Well? Did you need something?”

“I was just going to tell you that your planks looked good today. Who knew it was such an offense to compliment a lady.”

“I pay an exorbitant amount of money here to not get solicited at the gym, Barnes.”

He threw his head back laughing, and your eyes followed the line of sweat that trailed down his throat. You snapped back to reality when he held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

It was then you realized how close he was, practically enough to have you pressed against the counter, and your breath hitched.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The faux concern in his voice had your gut turning. “You seem a little flushed.”

“I just finished a workout, asshole,” you retorted, even though you both knew the heat rising to your cheeks was from anything but that.

His arms came around to cage you against the counter, his nose skimming your temple as he whispered, “When are we finally going to stop dancing around this?”

“Right now,” you whispered back before crashing your mouth to his.

He responded immediately, hands gripping your waist and setting you on the counter, and your legs automatically wrapped around him. You could already feel the hardness there as he pushed against you. Your hands gripped his hair, angling his head so he pressed kisses to your neck, moving down your chest to where your sports bra stopped him in his tracks. He pulled away long enough to discard the material before his mouth was back on you, mouthing at the swell of your breasts then taking a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck, Bucky. Just like that.” He hummed his agreement and the sensation shot through you, making your legs tighten around him. He moved to your other nipple, hands busy as they tugged on the waistband of your leggings, but you stopped him, pushing his head back. The confusion and longing on his face might have been cute if you weren’t so desperate to strip him down. You pushed up his shirt until he got the hint, dropping it to the floor, and holy fuck.

Abs upon abs upon abs. You didn’t think you had ever seen anybody so ripped before, and your hands automatically went to touch him, to get his pants off and get another peek, but he stopped you, tsking at your desperation.

“Let me have my fun first, sweetheart.”

With that, he dropped to his knees, finally reaching his goal of getting your pants off, and groaned when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear. Not wasting a second, he spread your legs, propping one up on the counter so you were bared to him, and placed teasing kisses along each thigh, alternating until he was so close to your core you could feel the puffs of breath coming from him.

You had a smartass retort on the tip of your tongue when he finally gave you what you wanted, latching his mouth on your clit and sucking until you threw your head back. You bit your lip to keep your moans contained, panting through your nose, as he continued his assault on your core. Each stroke of his tongue was a symphony of sensation and you knew you wouldn’t last long if he kept it up. That didn’t seem to matter to Bucky, though, because as he slipped two fingers into you, stars exploded behind your eyes and your entire body clenched, hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

He let you ride out your orgasm in his tongue and fingers, and didn’t pull away until you finally stopped twitching. Coming back to your senses, you hauled him up to your mouth again, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips.

Without any resistance from him, you pushed his sweatpants and underwear down to his knees, pulling him close enough that his length brushed against your still sensitive core. You moaned into each other’s mouths as he thrust his hips, his cock brushing against your clit with every movement, until he finally slid into you.

This time, there was no stopping the noises that came from you. As he slid home, he brushed that sweet spot that had you rolling your eyes back, and each thrust hit it again and again until you were clenching around him.

You were determined to hold out, but your orgasm overtook you once his hand reached between your bodies to rub your clit, and he prolonged it by continuing his assault on your bud, until he finally spilled into you.

The two of you stayed like that, bodies connected, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, until he finally pulled away, reaching for a towel that lay on the counter and crouched down to clean you up.

“Such a gentleman,” you quipped, though your voice was still shaking. “All this and you couldn’t even take me to dinner first.”

“Does take-out on your couch not count as dinner?” he responded, and you both laughed. “Seriously, though, let me take you out.”

The air turned serious as you both pulled your clothes on, not looking at each other. Finally, once you felt less bare, your eyes met his.

“You mean this wasn’t just a release of tension?” This time you kept your voice steady. “You really want to take me on a date?”

“Hell yes,” he responded, before pulling you in for another kiss.

#tiff writes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #uncontrollable

[tojigasm]

No cause I NEED more of this jake “I’m too old for ya kid” I NeEd it to breathe pretty please on my knees begging crying throwing up—

You're so tight around him. So soft and moldable in his hands. It sends heat to his cock, the thick of it pulsing against your gummy walls. Swears to you you're the best pussy he's ever had.

He tells you, when he's got your soft legs thrown over his shoulders and he's filled you to the brim, tells you how his younger self back on earth would've gone crazy over you.

His balls press against your sopping folds, and he grunts, chuckling a bit when he angles himself in such a way that he can feel you tighten around him. Looking up to catch your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

"That good, huh?"

You can hardly form a response, settling to nod shakily and moaning through shivers that run up your spine.

"Yeah, I – Christ – yeah, daddy knows a thing or two, huh, kid?" Jake brings a hand up to run along your bottom lip, "not gonna try that shit again, huh?"

Embarssment floods you in the moment, bringing you back to earlier that day when you'd claimed he was too old to last more than a round, too old to keep it up, and definitely too old to please you.

You whimper, reaching up to drag him down to you. Jake doesn't surrender as easily as you'd hoped, keeping himself upright to fill you up once more.

He doesn't last long, though. Pulled in by your round eyes pleading to have him settle against your soft skin.

"You're lucky you're cute." Jake teases, kissing you as he lowers himself down to rest flush to your chest. You giggle into the kiss, wrapping your soft legs around his waist with a moan.

You've always liked that about him. The way he's so much older than you. So much more mature and expereinced. He's been worn down over the years, toned stomach now much more softer and thighs far more bulkier. The weight of him makes you drool.

Jake plants himself on his forearms, groaning as he pulls out to sink back into you. You're so soft under him, letting him move you the way he needs to, the way he wants - needs - to.

"Tryna kill me, kid?" Jake laughs as he sinks into to the hilt again, girth of him stretching you open, "never been in a pussy this tight my whole life."

"Daddy," you can hardly speak, let alone think when he's got his cock bruising your tiny cunt.

"Daddy's gotcha," he lets himself rest against you, soft of his chest pressing into your breasts. With a groan, Jake pulls your bottom lip down, leaning over you before spitting into your open mouth. The obscenity of it makes you whimper, walls tightening around Jake's girth.

He pulls back to grab your jaw, holding you steady, "Daddy too old to fuck you still?"

#jake sully #dilf jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar #jake sully smut #avatar smut #jake sully x reader smut

[andypantsx3]

INCENDIARY | 7 | BAKUGOU KATSUKI x READER

SUMMARY: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it. TAGS/WARNINGS: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, light hurt/comfort, themes of discrimination, canon typical violence, smut, aged up characters, fem pronouns + afab reader, 18+ mdni LENGTH: 3.3k, FIC MASTERLIST

Bakugou kissed like he fought—focused, determined, and absolutely lethally.

You surrendered to him easily, letting him take the lead, feeling his tongue tease your mouth open, his nose brush over yours as he angled his head. You caught a fistful of his shirt to pull him closer, every nerve ending in your body tingling, and he braced himself over you, grabbing a fistful of your hair to lock you to him.

He tasted like sweat and something sweet, and felt like an epiphany. The entire time, the tension you had been feeling with him—it had been this. This burning desire to be under him, over him, all but bodily fused to him. The desire to bite him had been the desire to consume him, to draw him inside of you.

Bakugou did several extremely clever somethings with his tongue, licking into your mouth hot and filthily, and you felt your desire pool low in your stomach, trickling between your thighs.

You pressed up into him, straining to be closer. He answered by shifting into the cradle of your hips, pressing something full and hard into the juncture of your thighs. You shivered, every inch of your body all but purring like a pleased kitten.

“Drive me fucking insane, princess,” Bakugou said against your mouth as he ground down into you, the hand in your hair clenching tighter. “Wanted you from the second you opened your mouth.”

“Me drive you insane—?” you managed, before shutting him up with another kiss.

You had never felt this way about another person before—wanting to both fuck and fight him, wanting to both kiss and bite him. You nipped his mouth, letting your teeth scrape over his lip a little on purpose, and he growled into the kiss. The foam of the yoga mat crinkled next to your ear as his grip tightened on it.

“You’re unbelievable,” he grunted when you finally separated again, though he didn’t stop grinding down into you with tiny insistent circles of his hips. You could feel him getting harder in his gym shorts, and you ached with the desire to rip them right off of him.

His fingers pressed to the corners of your mouth, calloused and direct. “This fucking mouth of yours, princess. It’s gonna get you into trouble,” he said, his tone nasty and all the hotter for it. “Been dying to put it to better use.”

A wicked grin split the sides of his mouth as he spoke, and it was all you could do not to lean in and bite him again.

“Then do it,” you said, feeling unbelievably bold, the desire to challenge him every step of the way still burning in your veins. “Show me if you think you can.”

Something flashed in Bakugou’s scarlet eyes. No sooner were the words out of your mouth than Bakugou was kneeling over you, and easing down his shorts, just like you’d known he would.

His cock was infuriatingly pretty, just like the rest of him, thick and full and velvet smooth as you took it into your hand. He was neatly trimmed, perfectly proportioned, and you wanted to give a little scream of frustration for how unfair it was that some people got to be beautiful all over.

You opened your mouth, and he positioned himself over you, holding himself up on the strength of his arms alone as he eased into you with a flex of his hips.

He was thick in your mouth, and you took him in the best you could, feeling one of his hands slide beneath your head to press you to him. You breathed through your nose, a little bit unpractised after the past few months, giving a few shallow bobs of your head.

Bakugou hissed, sharp and harsh in the sudden quiet of the apartment, his breath growing ragged.

“Fuck, that’s it, princess,” he said, his tone an appreciative growl. “Like that—fuck—”

You grew a little bolder, easing down a little farther, feeling his fingers tighten in your hair. You realized he was holding himself over you on just one arm, then, and the thought went through you like a bolt, making you clench your thighs together.

You could see the flat planes of Bakugou’s toned stomach in front of you, every single abdominal picked out in sharp relief, strong and hard and utterly, infuriatingly perfect. You watched the shift of those muscles as he flexed his hips the tiniest bit, sliding deeper in your throat, watched a harsh breath rise and fall in his chest.

“Fuck, your mouth, princess,” he said, his voice even rougher. Desire pooled more heavily between your thighs at the sound, and you gripped onto his shirt with your free hand, clutching at him. “Love this fucking mouth of yours, brat. You’re always running it, never know when to shut the hell up.”

You pinched him through his shirt for his cheek, and his fingers clenched harder in your hair in warning. Taking another breath through your nose, you took him in the last inch, until your face was pressed right against that hard stomach, and Bakugou let out a litany of swears, his words cutting off into a groan.

You worked him slowly, carefully, his hand a guide at the back of your head. He held himself so still over you, still balanced on just one arm. You could feel yourself squirming a little against the yoga mat, the thought of all that hard muscle, all that insane strength, barely restrained over you. You realized you loved it, the thought of him—all his strength, all that fury—directed towards you. Towards protecting you, these past weeks, towards fucking you—all of it, his everything, focused on you.

Eventually Bakugou yanked you off of him by his grip on your hair, swearing. “Not gonna last longer if you keep that up, princess,” he said, a sharp grin carving his mouth. “And I’m not done showing you what’s good for you.”

You couldn’t suppress the shiver that overtook you as he lowered himself back over you, shifting back in between your thighs.

“I wanna fuck you, princess,” he said. “Can I?”

You nodded, reveling in the feel of him between your legs, in the way his weight anchored you firmly to the yoga mat. His grin widened, those blood-red eyes darkening as they roved over your face. His fingers caught your chin, thumb brushing over your mouth.

“Been imagining this ever since I saw that little pink bra of yours, princess,” he said, leaning down to bite softly under your jaw. “Thought you could hide it from me, but I saw it. Imagined you reaming those fucking QRA assholes a new one, all dressed up in your little pink lingerie.”

You laughed, which quickly morphed into a sharp intake of breath as his hand trailed down the length of your body, sliding into your shorts. His fingers were long and strong and unbearably good when he pressed two of them gently and firmly over your clit, drawing small, tight little circles around it. Then they slid lower, dipping between your folds, finding you already incriminatingly wet.

“Wet already for me, princess?” Bakugou’s grin somehow went even sharper, blade-deadly on his mouth, and you pinched him again, even as you shuddered with the feeling of his fingers pressing up into you. “Good girl.”

Your fingers twitched with a violent urge to either shove him away or pull him closer—you couldn’t decide. He was so infuriatingly smug, but so inconceivably hot. You settled for quieting him with a kiss, adding a scrape of teeth in warning. But Bakugou just seemed to like it, groaning into your mouth, licking into you, his thumb finding your clit and pressing down.

“Gonna fuck you so good you won’t even have the words to mouth off to me,” he promised, curling his fingers just right, finding that spot inside you that seemed to double the pressure of his thumb on your clit, making you squirm underneath him. “There you are, princess.”

You gripped the material of his shirt tight as he worked you, every single twist and curl of his fingers seeming calculated to drive you insane. He mouthed at your shoulder, biting his way up your neck, whispering promises of all the things he’d been dreaming of doing to you, every time you mouthed off to him, every time he realized you were sleeping only meters away from him, every time he’d found your delicates left behind in the bathroom—just like the ones he’d seen in your dorm room.

In barely any time at all, you were writhing and bucking against his hand, clutching his wrist with both of your own, shamelessly moaning out your own praise—how good he felt, how much you wanted him. Bakugou seemed to decide you were ready, peeling down your shorts and then his own, guiding himself between your thighs.

“You good, brat?” he asked, pinching your cheek when all you could give him was what you imagined to be a glassy-eyed stare, willing him to be inside you already.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, yes—please just shut up and fuck me, Bakugou. Please.”

He seemed to like the sound of please in your mouth, smirking again. But he leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your mouth before commanding, “It’s Katsuki, princess. Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you echoed obediently, and he seemed to like that even more, a genuine smile overtaking his mouth. It looked so handsome on him, boyish and charming, and you could feel your face getting inexplicably hotter, even though you’d already had his fingers and his dick inside you.

Then he was easing himself into you, the stretch and slide of him utterly delicious.

“Goddamn, princess,” he uttered, his voice rough. A crease came between his brows, like he was focusing intently as he slid all the way in, until his hip met the skin of your thigh. His fingers dug into your left thigh, gripping the flesh, flexing as his eyelashes fluttered. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

Heat flashed through you, and embarrassingly, you could feel yourself clench around him with the praise. Your fingers clenched around his bicep as you frantically tried to stop yourself from coming right then and there.

His scarlet eyes flashed open, narrowing in on you with all the deadly accuracy of a homing missile, and a smirk bit across his mouth. “Like that, huh, brat?” he said, slowly drawing himself back out and into you again. “You’re already ready to come for me just from that?”

You pinched him, even as you shivered through his first few thrusts. “Just—be quiet. Get uglier if you want me to last.”

Bakugou’s smile was a wicked thing, but he mercifully complied. His pace picked up into something sharp, quick, and controlled. You clung onto him for dear life, your head swimming again with the thought of all that fire and all that strength, on you, over you, buried deep inside of you. You couldn’t believe you’d misunderstood him, misunderstood this thing between you two for months, and you wanted to spend hours and days and weeks just making up for it.

Bakugou fucked you like he wanted the same—he’d wanted you, from the very first minute you’d spoken. He hadn’t wanted you to shut up and be quiet and take things lying down—when you got past all the complexities of his past, he’d liked that you were so mouthy. He planned to protect you, to let you mouth off even more—

“That’s right, princess,” he was growling, red eyes fixed on your face, that sharp smirk riding his pretty mouth. “Just like that—good girl, so fucking good—”

You knew he knew what he was doing, but you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to. Your fingernails left crescents in the skin of his back as you clenched up around him again, another smug-sounding “good girl” from him throwing you right over the edge.

Heat flashed through you like a white-hot firework, pleasure streaking up your veins, melting right through them. You muffled a cry in Bakugou’s shoulder, drowned out in part by his own swearing as you clenched up and then came loose, writhing out your pleasure underneath him.

Bakugou didn’t last any longer—his hips snapped forward frantically, faster and faster, like the sight of you undone underneath him had shattered any measure of control he had. The foam of the yoga mat squealed as his grip tightened mercilessly, and then he too was coming, pressing you down into the mat with a terrible strength.

You reveled in the heavy weight of him over you, panting into his shoulder as you both caught your breath. Your blood felt soupy in your veins, your limbs weighed a thousand pounds, and something heavy and deeply satisfied had settled in your chest—like you’d finally, finally understood Bakugou.

Bakugou looked like he might feel the same way, when he pulled back to look you over. There was something smug and pleased about the set of his mouth as he leaned in to take your lips again, his eyes half-lidded and his hair a mess.

“Don’t think this is gonna get you out of self-defense, brat,” he told you when he finally let your mouth free, several minutes later, but there was a texture in his voice you’d never heard before—something almost teasing and fond. You pinched him again, clenching up when he shifted inside you and sparked every single one of the nerves in your lower body again.

You couldn’t help but rise to his challenge.

“Do your worst,” you told him, the command a thrill up your own spine.

Bakugou’s gaze darkened, and he seized your mouth again. And then he did do his worst, but self-defense had very little to do with it. Not that you were complaining.

Of course you did get roped into self-defense for real, the very next day. Bakugou Katsuki was not one to cut corners or let things go, even for his “brat of a fucking new girlfriend.”

He also did seem to enjoy pinning you to the mat far too much, and he seemed to enjoy when you managed to get back at him even more—any bite or pinch or unexpected kick of yours always seemed to end up with you flat on your back or thrown over the couch, muffling your screams into the meat of your arm.

Despite this, you did manage to learn a few throws and how to wiggle out of a couple different holds, and the rewards from Bakugou kept you incredibly motivated.

Between self-defense, your reward sessions, and cramming for finals, you barely managed to scrounge up any nerves about your impending trip to New Day Japan’s studio and the danger that might await you there.

It was only when you had managed your last final and been rewarded with both an excellent dinner and something Bakugou had the audacity to term dessert while he was between your thighs that you finally had enough mental capacity to return to the thought of Matsui, and what you intended to say if you did live long enough to make it into the studio.

You wanted to convey that even though you were an unlikely spokesperson for the issue of quirkless rights, that was exactly what the very thing that made it so important that you did say your piece. Many late nights combing through Twitter for important points revealed to you that there were so many more educated, qualified, and active people to speak to these issues, but they affected every quirkless person—not just active community members, not just well-spoken people. Like those QRAs on campus, quirkism was something that stalked into your life unannounced and tried to make itself at home.

But even some drunk rando could put quirkism in its place if they so desired.

That’s what you really wanted to convey. That even an average person could defeat these ideas. That an average person could and would do everything in their power to defeat the pockets of quirk supremacy they encountered.

You wanted to send a message to quirkless people like yourself, and the quirk supremacists that thought an average person could be cowed into silence. You were more than just a meme, a viral video. You were a person with things to say.

You spent the next twenty-four hours agonizing over your messaging, trying to make sure you had all your thoughts and feelings on the issue marshaled into order. You chattered to Bakugou over your last dinner you made together, getting kissed breathless onto the counter when your passion managed to work him up enough. You spoke aloud in the shower, phrasing and rephrasing, and tested your expressions as you dried off in front of the mirror, trying to convey everything appropriately.

Bakugou seemed to be especially geared up too, his workouts getting noticeably more intense, lasting an impossible number of hours. He was perpetually glowing with sweat, his gaze sharper and hotter than ever. You warmed at the thought that all this focus, all this determination was in your name—in the name of protecting you and making sure you got to safely speak your piece.

And then Thursday finally arrived. You had barely managed to sleep, sick with the nerves that had finally roused themselves from their finals-induced trance. Though you had no appetite, Bakugou managed to force an entire traditional breakfast down your throat, and you finally returned to your room for the first time all week to scrounge up an appropriate outfit.

When you returned to the living room, Bakugou was already there, having dressed in his hero uniform for the first time in months, now that you were about to emerge from hiding.

Its paramilitary design made him look all the more intimidating—the black was stark against his skin, the orange X like a bloody slash across his chest, like the bright warning of a poisonous animal, that he was not to be fucked with. The fabric of his shirt clung tightly to his powerful chest and arms, and the metal of his bracers and knee guards glinted sharply in the apartment lighting.

You tried not to find it too hot.

Bakugou walked you briefly through all of the moves he’d taught you over the last week, nodding, satisfied, when you’d completed everything.

“You ready, brat?” he asked, leaning down so that the tail end of his question ended in your mouth.

You kissed him back, your churning stomach settling somewhat. You meant what you had said last week. You trusted him to protect you—trusted him with your life. If Matsui was finally brave enough to show his face, Bakugou would smash it in.

“I’m ready,” you nodded, accepting his hand when he offered it.

You let him corral you downstairs and into the waiting agency car, settling in as he stalked in after you. You buckled your seatbelt and took in a calming breath, trying to slow your heart rate as the driver gunned the engine. It was fine. You had Bakugou, you had Genius Office, and you had your own conviction. You were going to be fine.

You watched as the officer pulled the car out of park, guiding the wheel to turn back out onto the street. You heard loose gravel crunch under the wheel, the shift of Bakugou’s uniform next to you. And then—

“Down!” Bakugou’s voice hit you at the same time his body did, throwing himself over you—just as a towering wall of flame engulfed the car.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader

[yesihaveaobsession]

Heeled Grace

Alastor x female reader

Summary: After being Alastor's plus one to an overlord party, your feet start to hurt due to your footwear, you flee the party, and Alastor helps you take your heels off ;)

You couldn't resist the opportunity when Alastor asked you to be his plus one to an overlord party. A party with a man who's just as much of a gentleman to everyone else in hell? Oh, absolutely. You were a little nervous though, being in a room filled with some of the most powerful beings in all of hell. You didn't have to worry; Alastor was there to make sure you were comfortable.

AT THE PARTY

You were currently linked arms with the Radio Demon as he stood proud with his wide smile, talking to a fellow overlord about something you didn't quite understand. You had been standing on your feet for way too long; your feet were killing you. You shifted on your feet, and Alastor, the observant one, noticed. He bent down slightly and whispered in your ear, "Are you alright?"

You mustered up your best fake smile and replied, "These heels are killing my feet." Your fake smile turned to a look of discomfort; his red eyes looked over your face for a second and he asked, "Should we head back?"

"If you want; this is your thing," you said as you looked around, and he did the same.

"I’d rather not be here if you are uncomfortable," he said with a sweet tone.

"What time does it end?" you asked, still uncomfortable. Despite his smile, he felt bad to see his pretty little plus one in pain.

"Three more hours," the demon replied. His eyes looked down at your heeled feet, then back at your face; you were most definitely in pain. He had brought you to the function; he didn't want to put you out more.

"I can try and wait; I don't want to ruin your night."

"You won’t ruin my night. If you are uncomfortable, then we can go now."

BACK AT THE HOTEL

You were now at the hotel; Alastor had brought you back to the hotel and to his room. With a flick of the wrist, Alastor's fireplace was lit, and he helped you sit down in a chair in front of the fireplace. Then he grabbed a chair from his table, set on the wooded, swamp side of his room. Alastor tapped his lap, signaling you to place your foot on his leg, and you did.

"Allow me," he murmured, his gloved fingers deftly working to unfasten the clasps of your heels. With a soft click, they fell away, revealing the delicate arch of your foot. You had only watched him; from the angle the two of you were sitting, the flames of the fire illuminated his face, bringing out some of his features.

Alastor extended his leg, offering it as a makeshift perch for your tired foot. Without hesitation, you accepted, placing your other heel-clad foot onto his thigh with a sigh of relief. His claws brushed against your skin slightly as he worked on the clasp of your heel, which was much smaller compared to his bigger claws.

As Alastor's gaze lingered on you, his eyes hooded, his movements deliberate, each touch sending a shiver down your spine as you surrendered to his tender ministrations. A close-lipped smile played upon Alastor's lips as he met your gaze. In that fleeting moment, as he held your foot in his hand.

And as the last clasp fell away, Alastor released a soft chuckle, and you giggled. The flames still illuminated your faces, and you weren't sure if it was the fire or Alastor, but you felt warm. Alastor then placed your delicate foot back down and straightened out his pants, his close-lipped smile returning to his usual sharp-toothed smile as he looked at you.

You two shared a moment; you didn't know how to put it, but it truly was perfect. He then held out a hand, and you took it. He helped you up and twirled you by the fireplace; the skirt of your dress spun with you, and you smiled. "Thanks for tonight, Alastor."

"Anytime, my dear."

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #i have an obsession

[newluvrs]

2:30 a.m. Soobin ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎ mdni!! currently listening to: ILY2M - ALEX SLOANE

Everything is so desperate as you pathetically push your hips into Soobin’s.  Both of your clothes are still on, but the friction of his clothed cock against your pussy is enough to make your head spin.  The way you grind onto him, it’s like you’re possessed by the sole thought of getting off.  Soobin’s always liked how selfish you get when it comes to your pleasure.  It turns him on to know that he has the power to reduce you to something so feral, it gives him a power trip.  Sometimes he thinks about pushing you off, just to see what you’d do.  

For now his mouth is on yours, with his hands up your baggy shirt playing with your tits.  He alternates between pushing them together and rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, lightly tugging on them here and there just to hear the whimpers you make against his mouth.  Something about doing something so filthy with clothes on makes you feel even dirtier. 

Abruptly, he breaks the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, without the additional fabric he can see the way your body contorts with every roll of your hips.  He sees how your boxer briefs are soaked from your wetness, so much so that its now starting to soak into his.  Fueled by the sight he leans forward to drip spit onto your chest, smearing it with his hands back over your nipples.  

With the new sensation you gasp, desperation over taking you as you lean back on your hands, pushing your chest closer to his hands while simultaneously finding a deeper angle to hump onto him.  He can tell you found just the right amount of friction with the way you cry out and start moving at a faster pace than before. 

“Want me to help you baby?”

At the sound of his voice you open your eyes that you had previously closed in concentration.  His hair is messy over his eyes, a cocky and amused smirk resting on his lips.  Had you been in a different mood you would make him cry, but that’s for another time.  Right now all you can do is nod your head, whining out into the air.  

He laughs at this but doesn’t torment you for too long.  Rather he plants his feet against the mattress, his hands taking a firm grip over your hips before he starts to pull your body against his at the same time he grinds up.  And the angle is so fucking delicious, you can practically feel the outline of his cock against your cunt.  

“you look so cute like this sweetheart, just so desperate to cum.”  

He tries to sound dominant with his words, but you can hear how each sentence ends in a whine.  Your cheeks still heat up at his comment, your heart swelling at the compliment. 

“Just surrender to the feeling.  Use me to cum baby, you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

It’s just like him to be so affectionate and endearing even in a moment like this.  You listen to him, closing your eyes and rolling your hips into his as he grinds up.  You let yourself be taken over by your want, leaning further back on your hands to find the deepest angle.  Once you find it your hips don’t let up, whining with your head tossed back, letting out gentle cries of his name.  You pull one of his hands off your waist to spit into his palm before bringing it to your chest and pushing it onto your tits.  Soobin thinks you’re the hottest like this when you take exactly what it is that you want.  When you use him like his sole purpose is to get you off.  And who can resist a pretty girl panting on their lap, looking the epitome of fucked out and needy.  When your hips start to stutter Soobin forces himself to keep his eyes on you.  The curve of your body, the way you throw your head back, the way you always try and curl in on yourself when you cum with the pleasure being too much.  When your pace comes to a halt you collapse against his chest, your underwear all sticky and stuck to your sensitive cunt.  He flips the both of you over so hes on top, littering kisses on your face as his hips start to move.  

“So cute baby, so cute when you cum. My good girl.” 

As he buries his face in your neck you run your hands through his hair, pulling on it every now and then to hear his whines.  As his movements get sloppier you can tell he’s getting drunk from the pleasure, slurring out your name as he paws at your breasts.  

“So good for me Bin, letting me use you, making me feel so good.”  

He shivers at the praise, starting to feel overwhelmed by everything taking over his senses.  

“Why don’t you cum for me?  Want it so bad, just want you to feel good.  Make a mess of me.”  

He chokes at your last sentence, sinking his teeth into your neck as he rolls his hips into yours as deep as he can as he releases, like he’s trying to fuck you through the layer of clothing.  When he stills he collapses on top of you, panting as he comes down.  

“”m all sticky.”  He huffs out as your stroke his hair away from his face so you can see his flushed cheeks.

“My poor baby.”  

He rolls his eyes at this, but deep down you know he secretly likes being babied in this way.  It’s evident in the way you’re the one still holding him as you play with his hair.  

“Your ‘poor baby’ just made you cum in your shorts as you drooled on yourself.”

“Fuck you.” 

#soobin #txt smut #soobin smut #txt x reader #soobin x reader #txt #csb