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writeyouin · 7 months

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Greetings! I would like to request something from wonderful you! How about a scenario with the Jettwins (you can choose if poly or not) were they have a bot-reader thats carrying their sparkling? Like from when they find out and when the Sparkling is 'born'. It would be hilarious if the Sparkling ended up being not one but two, twin sparklings and they're the most mischief little things in the world. Sentinel fears them. They know that. They use it as their advantage. Thank you for your time! :D

Poly-Jetfire & Jetstorm X Bot-Reader – Sparklings

A/N – For those of you who don’t know, a solar-cycle is 1 day, and a Deca-cycle is 10 days.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Not too fast.”

“Be going easy now.”

“Don’t try transforming.”

“Let me carry that.”

You sighed, giving up on the box that you were supposed to take to Sentinel’s office aboard the ship he now commanded in Magnus’ temporary absence. Jetstorm rushed in to grab it, grinning proudly and opening his mouth to add another comment about what you should or shouldn’t do now that you were carrying sparklings.

Jetfire, who had been just as bad, nodded sagely as you tuned them out, closing your optics for a moment while you vented out some air, trying to keep your composure.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do as Jetstorm threw the box down and both twins rushed to your side, holding on to you as if you keep you from falling.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you feeling the sick?”

“Are you needing a stasis nap?”

“Should we be calling the doctor-bot?”

“Careful brother, they might be missing the Earth climate.”

“Yes, that must be it!”

You held up your servos, “Alright, that’s enough.”

“Yes, enough for the solar-cycle,” Jetfire agreed.

Jetstorm nodded vigorously, “Yes, you will be needing a rest now.”

“Boys please,” You groaned, then when forced to look upon their concerned expressions, your face melted into a gentle smile as you held out a servo for each of them to hold, bringing the three of you into a small circle.

“Jetfire, Jetstorm, you know you are everything to me. You are the spark that powers me, the circuitry inside, the wind beneath my wings,” You concluded, borrowing an idiom from Earth.

“But you don’t have wings,” They said in unison, sharing a perplexed look.

You ignored their confusion, soldiering on. “I love you both very much, and I’m just as excited to be carrying your sparklings, but I need to be able to continue living my life, just like before.”

“But the Decepticons!” The twins cried out earnestly.

“Alright, almost like before. Look, if I promise I won’t fight any more Decepticons until after the Sparklings are born, but in return, you two have to let me do my other jobs, okay? If it all gets too much, I promise that I’ll ask you for help.”

Jetfire and Jetstorm took a minute to contemplate your request, then they nodded in unison.

“Okay,” Jetstorm kissed your cheek-plate, “We promise.”

“Ja,” Jetfire pressed a servo against your carrying chamber, aiming his promise at the two lifeforms inside. “Promise.”

You vented out some air in relief, “Thank you.”

Throughout the remainder of your carrying term, Jetfire and Jetstorm kept their word, no longer treating you as if you were made from glass. They were still very attentive to your needs, bringing you extra energon rations, and ensuring that Sentinel was extra nice to you (primarily by playing Gorrila-warfare against him, Jetfire pranking him while Jetstorm rested, and vice versa if Sentinel ever acted less than nicely to you), but they also gave you space when you asked for it, and let you set the bar for what you could and couldn’t do.

Then, when it came time to birth the sparklings, the twins were glad to be part of a duo. How anyone could help their partner through birth alone was impossible for them to understand. While Jetstorm stayed with you in the Medical Bay, Jetfire transformed, flying stupidly fast to get the ship’s medical bot.

There was no argument as to who would get to stay, and who would go; they seemed to have worked that out among themselves beforehand. Then, when Jetfire returned with a shell-shocked doc-bot clinging onto the outside of his cockpit, the pair combined into Safeguard to hold your servo.

The birth was relatively standard as far as Cybertronian births went. There was little pain, and the doc-bot ensured that you were as comfortable as could be and that the sparklings were healthy. The one thing that nobody expected was that you weren’t carrying two sparklings like the preliminary scans had shown, but four; the other two hiding behind their siblings. They were considerably smaller, mini-bots by right.

For that alone, Safeguard disbanded, becoming Jetfire and Jetstorm so they could each hold one sparkling while you laid on the berth, holding the remaining two, one in each arm.

“This is incredible, brother,” Jetfire grinned ecstatically.

“That is being the understatement,” Jetstorm laughed.

“I cannot wait to be telling everybody, right (Y/N)!”

You didn’t reply, staying quiet as you looked from one sparkling to the other, your gaze darting around the room.

“(Y/N)?” The twins tried.

“What if…” You mused. “What if we didn’t tell people?”

“You do not want the people to know about our sparklings?” Jetfire said, his brow-plate furrowing in confusion.

“Just give it a few solar-cycles.”

Jetstorm looked down at the bronze sparkling in his arms, a perfect combination of his and Jetfire’s colours. “Why?”

“Think of it,” You said, your eyes aglow with mischief. “Tomorrow, Sentinel’s gonna come in, expecting two new sparklings on his ship, which he, as the Commanding Officer, has to oversee during the naming ceremony.”

The twins looked at each other, suddenly sharing your wicked grin. Yes, Sentinel would certainly be surprised.

As it was, with Sentinel’s work as head of the ship, he was a great deal busier than expected, especially with new reports from Cybertron arriving, informing him of surges in Decepticon activity. Although he was supposed to come in the next solar-cycle, it was actually a Deca-cycle till he could make it to the naming ceremony.

In that time, the sparklings had grown very slightly, and though they couldn’t walk yet, they were proficient in crawling, and they had nice strong grips, allowing them to hold onto their creator of choice.

And so the day came, with you and the twins standing proudly at the ship’s helm, Jetfire and Jetstorm each holding a sparkling, with Jazz hidden behind a control panel, struggling to hold onto the other two sparklings as they tried to escape his grip and make their way over to you.

“Easy now nuts and bolts,” He said cheerfully, using the nicknames he’d provided them, upon having been let into the prank. “You’ll go to your creator’s soon, but just hold on for a few klicks. You may be nuts and bolts, but Sentinel’s nuts and dolts, and he’s gonna get the fright of his life.”

Jazz played a low lullaby from his speakers, soothing the tiny Cybertronians, who looked so much like you. He had hold of one mini-bot and one regular bot.

Finally, Sentinel graced you with his presence and he hurriedly began his speech, taking little notice of the sparklings. All he wanted was to be as far from the new twins as possible; if they were anything like their parental twins, or you, he wanted nothing to do with them.

“And so we mark their creation, yada, yada, yada,” Sentinel huffed half-heartedly, “In the name of Primus, and so on… Skipping past the long rites, I as Captain of this ship welcome the new Cybertronians to the universe. ”

He held out his hands for the first sparkling which Jetfire brought forward.

“We named him Crosswind.”

“Right, right, Crosswind, welcome to existence,” Sentinel said, rolling his optics.

As was custom, he had to keep hold of Crosswind while he was handed the other sparkling.

“And this is his sister, Delta.”

“Right, right, Delta’s alive too,” Sentinel gabbled in a downplayed greeting, hardly fulfilling his duty as Captain. “And now, you can take your glitches back.”

He held them out to you, but you frowned, “Hang on, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No, I am not,” Sentinel seethed, “Now, take them back!”

“Oh you’re right,” You slapped your helm comically, “You’re not forgetting something, I am.”

At this point, Jazz snuck up behind Sentinel and placed the other two sparklings on his shoulders. They gripped on and the one on Sentinel’s left pawed at his face with a chubby servo, pulling at his mouth.

“WA IN UNCONS NAME S IS!” Sentinel garbled.

You supposed it was meant to be something along the lines of ‘What in Unicron’s name is this?!’ However, with your sparkling now trying to grab his glossa, it was much more difficult for him to say.

“These,” You answered triumphantly, holding back laughter while Jetfire and Jetstorm lost it behind you, their laughter crackling with static as they doubled over, holding onto one another for support, “are our other two boys. Throttle & Wing Walker.”

Sentinel, after regaining his composure hurried out a quick welcome and then practically hurled the sparklings at the three of you.

“Double the ship’s speed,” He ordered Jazz on the way out of the room. “I want them all on Cybertron and far, far away from me.”

And so it was that you held your sparklings and the twins having been brought into a group hug by them, as the seven of you made your way back home, ready to start your life as a new family.

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pariahsparadise · 1 year

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riff lorton x shy!reader hc's

nav. | m.list

requested by @luckyrabbits - hi! if requests are open, can i request something (fic or hcs are alright!) w riff lorton and a fem / gn reader who’s very shy? ty and have a great day!

word count: 500

a/n: sorry this took so long to make! and as a shy person myself, i totally loved this prompt lol. hope you like this 💗

pairing(s): riff lorton x fem!reader

riff first sees you when he stops by at doc’s. you’re working alongside tony and laughing at something he’s saying to you, one hand coming up a little self-consciously to cover your smile

riff melts on the spot

he bothers tony for next few days, trying to convince him to introduce the two of you

tony first says no, he knows you aren’t too comfortable around strangers

but riff manages to wear him down eventually

you’re a little scared when you first talk to him, and you’re really thankful that tony and riff manage to carry the conversation on their own with little input from you

but over time, talking to riff gets a little easier

until the mf starts flirting with you

my god, you get so flustered

riff’s a pretty smooth guy, with lots of confidence, he knows what he’s doing

you’re the exact opposite

the first time riff calls you “girly girl”, you get so flustered, you have to walk away to the staff room

he always keeps himself in check though

yes, he loves making you blush, but he never wants to actually make you uncomfortable, so he stays within his limits

he takes you out on multiple dates, usually in secluded places

originally, he did this so you’d feel better, but he ends up liking it more himself, it’s quality time with you AND he’s the sole receiver of all your attention

this isn’t always the case though

sometimes you insist on going dancing because you know all the jets are

and riff loves it too, but he won’t go without you

so you try and bear with it as much as you can

you’re too shy to dance in the hall with all the people milling about you though, so you encourage riff to dance with grazie and the other girls

and even if he does, he always manages to find his way back to you

will probably drag you out of the hall to dance in the parking lot

the music is muted, he sings along to it as he sways you around before pulling you into a kiss

you melt against him, knees unsteady, thankful for the arm he secures around your waist to keep you standing

riff’s also great at extracting you from social situations you don’t want to be in

all you have to do is tug on his sleeve once, and he’ll offer the people around you a pleasant smile and believable excuse before whisking you away

he’s usually the one to initiate physical touch, but on the rare occasions that you do?? fucking dead

just imagine, dragging him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss you?? out of absolutely nowhere?

he always makes the most surprised gasp, too

it fuels your ego, gives you the very necessary confidence boost that you need

riff kind of tends to keep the jets away from you, they’re a really loud and often rude gang

he knows you don’t need to be a part of a crowd like that, so the only jets you properly know are riff and tony

all in all, he’s a great boyfriend, and he finds your shyness endearing instead of annoying

it’s just one of the many things he’s loves about you :)

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witchofthesouls · 16 days

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The kids of Megatron, Soundwave, and their Witch! S/O asks the question about ‘how you met mom?’

Megatron and Soundwave: “Firstly, we didn’t ‘bag’ slag. Your carrier picked both of us up by our necks, slung us over her shoulders, and we have been on them ever since and don’t plan on getting off any time soon. That pretty much sums it up.”

The kids look over to their mom - usually who people who don’t know her that well to be dark and mysterious and terrifying (which she is, but behind closed doors she’s a crazy weird dorky nerd) - with a big proud grin on her face.

The kids would have to look at their dads and back to their mom and think about all the animal spouse stories, but it's mom that fetched two otherworldly husbands.

Now, the kids are questioning how she keeps them because Megatron and Soundwave are the animal (or weapon) grooms in this case. Each scenario gets more ridiculously far-fetched but weirdly plausible with Cybertronian biology and shenanigans.

#ask #transformers #megatron #soundwave #reader insert #magic #bitlets #sparklings #maccadam #my thoughts #this can be any continuity because i like the kids pointing to various military devices and equipment and go “mom's ride” or “mom's fav”#there would be a running joke of putting a ring on a boombox or a jet

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jasontoddssuper · 7 months

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Y'all niggas gotta be kidding me with your posts about how Hazel and Katara and Duke are the 'token goody two shoes' of their groups.Like,are we talking about the same girl who swore at nuns at her school and talks shit to people way older than her on regular basis and the girl who's half of her character motivation is rebellion against corruption and taking direct action to help minorities-read:she's punk-and the guy who got kicked out of multiple schools and lead a whole ass gang when he was like 15?????

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rqgnarok · 1 year

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more than just a short time — jamie whelan

fandom: law & order organized crime

wc: 2,579

warnings: SPOILERS for the season finale of law & order organized crime, canonical character death, canon mention of hospitals and violence. very self deprecating talk from a disabled character. ANGST. ANGST, ANGST, ANGST. female!reader

summary: Can someone be a widow if their partner only ever planned to propose?

author’s note at the end.

Jamie doesn’t wanna see her.

She’s on her way up, Bobby tells him gently. Jamie wishes the surge of relief that courses through him wasn’t mixed up with the abhorrent need to send her away, be as rude as possible to have her leave the room before she comes to terms with what he’s become.

He doesn’t. Jamie nods at Reyes and licks his lips. He feels his eyes burn when the door opens to (Y/N) walking in, clutching the strap of her purse like it’s a lifeline, eyes wide and terrified and determined all at once. Bobby cups her elbow in silent support as he leaves the room, and Jamie swallows the mean words that try to climb up his throat at the sight of someone else doing what he can’t; comfort her, touch her, be the steadiness she needs in a moment of chaos.

Neither of them speaks as they’re left alone, a bubble of something-not-quite-peace enveloping them and making the outside world a mere blur at the other side of the doors. It’s only them and the ticking clock, the smell of alcohol and disinfectant, and the lack of color and life one expects from this specific wing at Bellevue.

They’d met in a bar around four years ago. Jamie had just made detective and some of his buddies at the four-nine were adamant about at least buying him some drinks in celebration. Just after finishing his first beer, another one had been delivered to the table, the waiter pointing to where (Y/N) was sitting at the bar, smile sheepish and face flushed at being caught.

She’d heard them celebrating and figured there was no harm in inviting the next round. Jamie leaned into her space with a charming grin and said something stupid about being harmed by meeting someone so beautiful and not asking for their name. To this day (Y/N) calls it the worst pickup line she’s ever heard, but it got him a laugh and a date that very same weekend.

It’s been good. It’s been great – the last time Jamie was so infatuated by someone he’d been thirteen and crushing after the next-door neighbor. He fell so hard for (Y/N) and simply kept falling as they moved in together before their second anniversary and started looking for rings a couple of months before he transferred to Organized Crime.

The development of their relationship has been both a whirlwind and the most obvious thing Jamie’s ever lived through. Of course he was supposed to meet her. Of course he fell in love with her from the very first night. He hasn’t been able to imagine his life without her since their first date.

Jamie doesn’t want her here. Jamie needs her by his side. These are two things that have to coexist now, his new reality far from the idea he had for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t tell her to go.

“Hi, sweetheart,” (Y/N) talks first, breaking the silence and the distance between them all at once as if snapping out of a spell. She drops her things in the chair left behind by Bobby and is by his bed in an instant, hands hovering all over him like she’s unsure of what parts of him she can touch without hurting him.

Jamie wills for his fingers to twitch, for his hand to wake the fuck up and reach for her, help her cross those last few inches she isn’t daring to do on her own.

He remains limp against the bed. (Y/N) finally touches him, her fingers against his cheek. It’s enough for Jamie to shudder with a cry, turning his head so he can soak in the touch. She’s warm and steady against his skin and Jamie mourns his situation for the hundredth time in the last hour.

“Jamie,” she says, murmured and weepy. Jamie’s eyes close in agony but it feels too much like being dead already, so he opens them again. The sight that greets him is devastating: his almost-fiánce-never-to-be-wife, asking him for something he can’t give her. The lifetime together he’s been waiting to promise in his proposal has gone up in smoke in the blink of an eye.

It was the right thing to do. Jamie knew– not even the blinding pain that shocked through his nerves had been enough of a distraction to the urgency in Stabler’s voice– that the second Kyle died, the chance to put down Shadowerk would go with him.

There really was nothing he could’ve done. The bullet had reached his spine the moment it entered his body. He was dead the second he walked into that godforsaken camp.

But (Y/N) hadn’t known that when she kissed him goodbye that morning. She’d stood on her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around his neck and joined their mouths together, tasting of toothpaste and languidly using her tongue to make him late for work.

“Hi,” he says, voice dry, trying not to sound as miserable as he is and failing.

He’d already canceled a vacation on her earlier that week. A pre-honeymoon, he’d started calling it in his mind, maybe finally the right time to propose. He worries for a ridiculous moment if (Y/N)’s gonna be able to get a refund out of that, fretting terribly for what’ll happen to her after he’s gone.

He knows she can take care of herself but she’s not supposed to have to. Not while he’s alive and breathing.

Jamie’s overcome with how badly he wishes he’d called in sick. That he let (Y/N) drag him back to bed like she almost did and throw caution to the wind, burrow himself in her arms and her laugh, and leave the curtains drawn shut, embracing the safety of the darkness. He was so afraid of letting Bell and Stabler down, of having Reyes go out there without someone that cared for him watching his back, and where did that get him?

Without his body. Without a future with the love of his life.

The love of his life who can never find out what he asked of Bobby. Even if she loves him enough to do it for him– Jamie loves her too much to even ask. He won’t do that. He’s already planning on making her a widow, having her do it is just cruel. He made a promise a long time ago that he wouldn’t let the job make him someone he didn’t recognize and he’s not about to start bailing on it now.

Can someone be a widow if their partner only ever planned to propose? Jamie almost suggests they get a priest in here and use Bobby as a witness, but (Y/N) deserves better than that. And she’ll find it someday, Jamie’s sure of it, with an accountant or a banker or someone with a boring job who doesn’t leave the house to get shot at and get paid too little for it.

“My day sucked,” he jokes weakly despite the inner monologue that’s rushing through his brain, trying to get her to smile and his voice cracking with emotion in the process. (Y/N) struggles with it but she manages an upward tilt of the lips, eyes wet.

His pretty girl, so fucking resilient.

“I bet,” she tells him. She doesn’t stop touching him, which Jamie appreciates as much as he does the effort at light conversation. “Office coffee was that bad, huh.”

Jamie’s laugh turns into a sob so quickly that he reasons it wasn’t really ever a laugh. His fragile good humor is gone in an instant, lip wobbling and features scrunching in agonized despair.

“I’m sorry,” he cries earnestly and without restraint for the first time since his mom died, probably. He shuts his eyes but it does nothing to stop the flow once it's started and (Y/N) can’t wipe all his tears fast enough. “We should’ve gone on vacation, I shouldn’t have gone to work at all, I’m so sorry–”

“Hey,” she cuts him off, equally as devastated. “Honey, it’s alright, it’s okay. You were doing the right thing, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

He keeps apologizing anyway, fervently. Jamie isn’t strong enough to stop when (Y/N) starts to cry, too. She just holds him as best she can while they cry together. “You don’t deserve this, you don’t need less than half a–”

“You’re alive,” (Y/N) insists fiercely through tears. Jamie doesn’t tell her how this can’t be much of a life. “You came home to me, baby. That’s all that matters to me, you understand?”

Jamie hums an affirmative and keeps crying, and (Y/N) keeps soothing her fingers over his cheeks, his mouth, his temple, his hair. Jamie’s tremendously grateful for her, even if the need to make himself small and let (Y/N) hold him will never be satisfied again.

“You’re not half of anything,” she continues to reassure him without room for discussion. “You’re my everything. My whole entire life, Jamie–”

“I kept thinking of you,” he weeps, his breaths coming fast and hurried without the usual feeling of his abdomen pulling with the force of his grief. “All the time I’m out there, all I do is think of you, and I thought this time, I– I– I–”

She says his name helplessly, pressing a fervent kiss to his temple while some of her tears fall into Jamie’s hair, her breath stuttering. (Y/N) wraps herself around him as best she can without disturbing his injuries and the machines that are keeping him alive, leaving her in a most awkward position she doesn’t complain about once. Jamie’s love for her is too strong to be contained inside his body.

“I love you,” he tells her after enough time has passed that Jamie’s almost certain he won’t break into another sob. His voice quivers but that’s about it, and he thinks he’s allowed. (Y/N)’s fingers tremble against his temple. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she answers without hesitation, her voice a little shaky, too. She scratches at his hair and Jamie’s shiver is cut down to his neck. “I love you, baby, and we’re gonna be alright. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I don’t think we’ll make it to Alaska,” he tries not to scoff in disappointment because he knows (Y/N) won’t like it, and she proves him right when she purses her lips like she does when trying to convince herself not to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t be stupid,” she says, but it’s so, so soft it sounds like a term of endearment. Idiot, like honey, sweetheart, baby . “I don’t care about that. We can get shitfaced and take pictures with your thumb on the lens at home, you know.”

“Hey,” he says, trying and failing not to think about wedding rings at the bottom of champagne glasses or hidden in chocolate mousse cakes. He’s always made fun of people who think proposing with a choking hazard is a good idea but Jamie now aches for that stupidity, that normalcy that won’t ever be for him. He refuses to propose in a hospital room when he can’t even put a ring on her hand himself. “We probably won’t get a refund out of that.”

“That’s okay,” (Y/N) soothes. Nothing is, but Jamie lets her try. Maybe she’ll have better luck at pretending than he did. “I don’t mind.”

They fall into silence and he almost goes to sleep under her hands, pacified to unconsciousness half due to exhaustion and half due to her presence: the calm in the middle of the storm. Jamie isn’t mad anymore, can’t be when she’s got him wrapped around her finger.

“I love you,” he can’t tell her enough, sleepy and quiet. The rush of air she lets out is the only indication that (Y/N) heard him.

Breathing’s getting harder, already a chore, and now the thought of the device running out of batteries or accidentally disconnecting from where it's keeping him alive makes him anxious. (Y/N)’s worried, he can tell even if she almost never voices it because she refuses to make him feel guilty about doing the job he loves. Jamie wishes she’d tell him off, scream and cry at him and not bottle it all up. It’ll only be worse when he–

He says, "Want every day with you," with sharp breaths between each word because he's too exhausted to say I want to spend the rest of my life with you. There's a ring in my locker at the station that I've been waiting for the right moment to give to you. He doesn't say, every moment is right when we're together and I'm sorry I'm only realizing that when I’m unable to breathe on my own.

(Y/N) smiles, shaky and watery, and the most gorgeous sight Jamie’s seen in his life. She knows, and Jamie knows she does. The knot that had built up the whole time he'd struggled to stay awake, waiting for her in this hospital bed, loosens.

It’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be alright, even if she’ll miss him. She’ll grieve and move on knowing, without a doubt, that Jamie loved her like he’s never loved anyone before. It’s enough for him. He can only hope it’s enough for her, too.

“Honey,” she rouses him gently from an accidental slumber hours later, the sun that gave little light to the room now gone behind the horizon, (Y/N)’s fingers still caressing his face. She looks exhausted and worried and the most beautiful Jamie’s ever seen her. Her smile is brittle and shaky. “Your dad’s here. I didn’t want to wake you up, but–”

“‘s okay,” he tells her. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

“Sure,” she says softly, hesitation clouding her features only for a second before she’s leaning in for a kiss, firm and lingering. Jamie exhales into it, something in his chest unfurling at the touch. He hadn’t realized they hadn’t kissed yet. “I’ll bring him in.”

“Wait,” he says, managing a boyish grin with lidded eyes. “Do that again.”

(Y/N)’s smile is bright, and Jamie’s glad to taste it when she goes in for another kiss on his mouth and then moves on to his cheek, his nose, his chin, his forehead. “Insatiable.”

“You love it.”

“God help me, I do,” she pats his chest carefully. “Let me go get your dad before he wonders what we’re doing in here.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, and once last time because he can’t help himself. “I love you.”

(Y/N) turns from where she already had one foot out the door, expression tender. “I love you back. See you in a minute.”

Later, after crying in the safety of his dad’s presence like a little boy and saying his goodbyes, Jamie closes his eyes as his breaths begin to recede. The shrill sound of his heart monitor, the panic that takes over the room when he stops breathing, he’s aware of none of it.

Behind his lids isn’t death, but the Northern Lights and (Y/N) underneath them, showered in colors and smiling at him like she did that first night in a bar, young and unknowing. She offers him her hand and Jamie takes it. Nothing hurts.

________

this fic snuck up on me ngl but the season finale fucking wrecked me. i’m still thinking about writing a fix it.

short (considering my standards lol) and somewhat sweet? hope you enjoyed and if u want tell me what u think!

masterlist / ao3 / buy me a coffee

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inkpot909 · 1 year

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Can I get a Spike x raeder

The reader was kind with Spike and all but he didn't need a kid adult like in his team so he was always treating them like..idk "whatever" "ok." "Just leave me alone" and so on

But one day the reader gets in the way of a criminal taking the bullet for Spike and they say "thanks goodness you're ok" while bleeding out and Spike regrets it,he doesn't want them to go away,so he apologizes,saying that he needed them taht he would stop teasing them or treating them bad

They get together in the end :)

U can add as much angst as u want

A/n: Thank you thank you so much for the fun request! I feel awful for not being able to finish it for a while; getting caught up in personal matters. I appreciate the support and truly hope it was worth the wait. Have a lovely day; as well as all others reading. <3

Warning(s): Swearing; brief mentions of blood/canon-typical violence; light angst.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

It’s a dreadful thought lingering in the back of Spike Spiegel’s mind. Instead of pulling him away from them, fully in the present where he should be, a ricocheting gunshot nearly grazing across his shoulder only hammers the point home.

It seems that’s the route most bounties have gone down as of late. Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t even pretend to be surprised anymore. And usually, high-stakes entice him. But tonight was supposed to- no, it had to be different for safety’s sake. That much so was made very apparent.

What was originally meant to be a sneaky, difficult yet rewarding job, has mutated into a public gunfight taking place within a famously high-class bar. Having tracked the bounty to this location, things quickly went array upon the realization that most of the security in the building is in the palm of their hand. The bounty himself has presumably slipped away in the commotion, letting others take care of the dirty work for him.

The messiness of the situation has forced Spike and you both into a corner, desperately having to duck for cover. If it weren’t so tense- bullets flying in the air seemingly at every turn -Spike would almost laugh. It’s delightful (if not, a tad bit macabre) to see the place be wrecked to hell in a contextless vaccum. A handful of bodies are scattered across marble flooring along with broken tables and seats. By now, most innocent bystanders are either in hiding or found a way to flee the scene. Blood pouring onto the floor from bodies or light droplets from those still standing contrast heavily with a monochrome color scheme. It’s the kind of joint Spiegel usually wouldn’t ever think to step foot in; mingling with rich types isn’t exactly his cup of tea. On the flip side, maybe the owner at least has hope of being able to repair the mess themselves (a vain hope; as both him and you will most likely have to pay for property damage regardless of the owners funds).

Finding an opening to do so, Spike whirls his body around while swiftly reloading his revolver. Sticking his head up from behind the bar, he barely has enough time to understand the positions of those firing.

Just a few yards away from him on his left, you keep yourself hidden behind a table turned onto its side. Spike ducks below the bar once more, cursing underneath his breath. Blood is trickling down your right leg, clear signs of an injury. From what, exactly, eludes him for the time being.

The dark look on your face is unwavering, however. In fact, you’ve maintained a serious exterior for almost the entire night. It’s enough to put a hindrance on Spike’s breathing, albeit briefly. Such an intense presence doesn’t suit you at all.

You momentarily pull your attention from the action across the room, sensing someone’s eyes on you. Sure enough, you meet Spike’s gaze immediately. Nodding to one another, a beat comes and goes before the two of you move in tandem. Raising your guns, you both rise up quick enough to fire a shot or two.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

Crouching down, Spike stares at his feet. Despite holding his head low, his eyes give the impression that he’s looking at something far away. His lips press together in a thin line, letting out a long sigh. Jet’s going to have our heads for this, he expects.

Despite your cool front, you’d been as reckless and clumsy as ever (Spike’s words not yours). He had half a mind to blame you for the shootout, but even he has to admit he knows better than that. Although you fired the first shot, he might as well have done so himself via his own thick headedness. Just as Spike predicted would happen earlier the same day, you ended up hurt. However, he’d done just about everything his older companion told him not to, and here you are suffering the consequences along with him.

...

“Isn’t the whole point of this bounty to be discreet?” Spike muses, arms crossed. His expression is soured, and shoulders stiffened in defense. Sprawled out against the Bebop’s couch, he’s sat himself opposite of Jet. Well aware of how uncomfortably upright the yellow furniture is, his vegged out form is working to drive home a point more than anything else.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jet replies, voice gruff and short.

The younger man scoffs, raising his arms and gesturing to his right wildly. “Then why the hell-...” Spike pauses, rubbing his temple, “Then why… do you think I need to bring along Y/n? Surely it’d be better if I-”

“Because they work swiftly and are the most likely to keep you from inflicting your usual brand of collateral damage. I’d say they’ll do well to keep you from messing this up well enough.” Jet cuts him off casually.

“What? So they’re my babysitter? You know how they are- they’ll just get in the way.”

Jet bites back, “Spike, I swear this’ll go smoothly if you just accept their help. Don’t you dare think of going off on your own. The bounty’s got connections and has reportedly been on high alert since the price on his head increased. We don’t have all the details, but there’s enough to know it could get ugly. You’ll be kicking the bucket if you don’t get your head screwed on straight.”

“We both know the chance of that happening,” Spike huffs.

“Yeah, right… less likely than you admitting to yourself the real reason you get so high-strung about Y/n.”

The fluffy-haired man raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because you like them, but saying so must not be in vogue nowadays, so you tell yourself it’s just because they’re childish- or whatever made up reason it is this week.”

“They are childish.”

“And you aren’t?” Jet questions, “I’d think refusing to follow a well-informed decision just to avoid who you’re going to be working with is pretty immature.”

Silence follows, the moment thick with thought.

Making a face, Spike abruptly kicks his leg forward and smacks his foot against the side of Jet’s cute coffee table. He doesn’t even open his eyes at the booming, metallic sound. “As if a bright green racer with a goddamn flower plastered on the side of it won’t make us stick out everywhere we go!” Spike exclaims, clearly still hung up on Jet’s previous statement or sending him an implicit warning to shut his mouth.

“I’m sorry, but how many repairs have you needed on that obnoxiously red racer of yours in the past month!?” Jet snapped, finally looking his crewmate in the eye. “Y/n and you are the best choice for this sort of job. You’re going with them; end of story. The sooner you get the bounty the sooner you can come home sulking about it.”

Not twenty minutes later, Spike found himself begrudgingly walking next to you heading towards the Bebop’s garage. You maintain a youthful spring to your step, while he practically drags his feet on the floor following you.

“Hurry up, slow poke!” you jest, stopping in front of the garage door. Turning towards him, you tap your foot repeatedly as if you’re being forced to wait for him.

“Maybe you should start practicing blending into the shadows for when we land,” he suggests, moving past you, “You know… being unnoticeable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you giggle, “You’d miss out on what you like the most about me!”

Sneering, he responds non-committedly, “Yeah… sure.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Spiegel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You huff, a playful edge to your tone, “C’mon… at least admit I’m more fun than Faye; that can’t possibly be difficult to voice out loud.”

“I’m not admitting shit,” he suddenly snaps, “I just want to get this done; I could really use that reward- so let’s go.”

Frowning, your gaze hesitates on his person as he turns on his heel and shuffles away. He moves with hasty steps towards his precious racer for extra measure.

Your shoulders fall, but his back is turned to you. And even if it wasn't, you are certain by now that it wouldn’t make a difference. The wall he’s built between the two of you is sturdy and unmoving, but hell if you haven’t tried your hand time and time again at tearing it down.

But unknown to you, his thoughts haven’t moved his attention away.

Select bounty missions notwithstanding, nothing ever seemed to truly wipe the smile from your face. Even then, most times you can keep a playful edge to your actions and attitude. Spike Spiegel hates that. It’s hypocritical, considering his own behavior at times, but logic is (apparently) irrelevant. Nothing ever seems to get to you either, and that’s the most frustrating. Nothing he ever says or does gets to you. From the tiniest comment to the very reasons behind Jet's latest stream of lectures- he hardly has witnessed you bat an eyelid at it all.

It’s not that he necessarily dislikes you as a whole, but something angry inside him bubbles over around you. Still fresh in the bounty hunter world, your attitude just appears… too naïve. The feeling you fill him with is foreign, and why someone ‘so simple’ can get his mind racing is beyond him. Within the dim lighting the Bebop offers, barely reaching the inside of his racer, Spike has long been so sure you’d never find common footing he doesn’t even consider it an assumption anymore.

...

Amidst his thoughts, the two of you manage to shave the number of shooters down by a considerable amount.

Still eager to be done with the case (even if it means coming back empty handed at this rate), Spike takes the opportunity to fully rush away from behind the bar completely. Taking a dive, he shoots another individual just before tumbling to the floor. As he rolls himself over to find complete cover once more, he loudly lets out a curse after a loud gunshot fires in the air.

“Spike!?” you squeak, whipping around to see the man on the floor cradling his foot. Both his hands are clasped around his shoe, knuckles turning ghost white from applied pressure. Your eyes widen, dropping your adopted expression. “Are you alright!?” you shout.

“Less worry; more shooting!” he barks, wincing at a shot of pain trailing violently up his leg.

Not needing to be told twice, you focus your efforts back on the task at hand. He hears three distinct gunshots from your side of the room. Two thuds come from the far end his back is facing, a sound he recognizes as clothed bodies hitting the floor. To Spike’s relief, deafening sounds of guns firing comes to a complete halt.

You drop to the floor as well, buttocks making harsh contact with marble. Turning just your head this time, you meet Spike’s gaze once more. Not a second passes before the two of you share an exhausted laugh. Your tone is light and thankful, his is booming and pushing through fierceness beginning to fade.

“As best as we can… we’re keeping this from getting back to Jet or Faye,” Spike mumbles, leaning his head back after calming himself down.

Smiling warmly, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and move your attention. Your eyes scan the back of the bar, squinting slightly. The walls are littered with bullet holes, and you’ve no doubt the amount of which are near impossible for one person to count alone. A shady figure lingers in a bathrooms door frame, and at least two tables in the back are snapped in half-

Wait…

Realistically, the figure in the distance moves fast. To you, the gut reaction is so quick hindsight allows you to fool yourself into believing you had even a moment to think about your actions. To understand what exactly it was you’re doing. To process all that transpires within the next couple of seconds.

But that isn’t really the case. You merely registered the shadowed individual’s frame, and the reflective light bouncing off the pistol in their hand. It was all you needed to act, diving to the side so quickly that ‘desperate’ wouldn’t be enough to describe the action.

A shout erupts from behind you, frantic and unfathomably angry. More sounds of gunshots fill the air; curse words and other profanities fill any available space. You can distinctly make out Spike’s voice, and one more that’s unknown to you. It’s very deep and masculine, though, from what you can understand.

You attempt to roll your body over, but a sharp pain just below your collarbone and near your shoulder keeps you from doing so. Vision blurs at random, and you can scarcely make out your companion (roommate?) standing in front of you. When exactly did he get there?

Your eyes flutter open and shut.

You feel someone kneeing you in the side, and your eyes snap open to observe Spike bending down beside you. Slowly but surely, your vision stabilizes. When did he…? Is the mysterious shooter still around? You attempt to move again, but this time the pain you feel is so prominent you cry out and screw your eyelids shut.

“Oi oi oi…” you hear Spike’s voice call. “Don’t strain yourself, dummy,” he tells you, having absolutely no bite behind his words. At least, none you could make out. Still, you're inclined to wonder if it’s still just your own shock over getting shot making you misunderstand.

“Bounty got away…” he huffed, gently sitting you up against a fallen table. Giving you an apologetic look, he rips the side of your top open. You put up no fight, watching him wrap your bullet wound with whatever makeshift materials he’s found lying around.

“Was that who was standing in the back?” you ask, voice kept low.

“Yeah,” he replies, “ I thought the coward hightailed it and ran… but I guess he wanted the last laugh. Erm- tried to at least. He ended up running anyway.”

“Him and this ‘team’ if his will probably persue us, then,” you sigh, “Now we have to hunt him down before he gets us…” Pausing, you take a minute to mull over your words. “I’m really sorry. This is all my-“

“Don’t,” he cuts you off calmly, gesturing to your injuries. “Not when you’re like this.”

Smiling despite yourself, he stops his movements at the display. Ignoring the shock on his face, you ask, “What? You worried about me?”

Spike hesitates, physically moving his chest away from you. “Don’t be absurd,” he scoffs, speaking unconvincingly. He continues, wrapping around the wound once more before stopping himself yet again. His frown deepens, adding, “And stop smiling like that.”

“Why?”

“Because you were just shot!” he snaps, “And nearly slipped out of consciousness!”

“Ah…” heat rushes to your face, “So you were worried…”

“I-… yes, fine, okay?” his head falls, giving in.

You snort, “That sounded painful.”

“Tonight’s been stressful; you haven't been acting like yourself all night. Even on a job… it’s not like you to get so serious. What was with you?”

You shrug sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “Thought you’d like it better that way.”

“It freaked me out, why would-“

Spike halted his words. He knew exactly why, but the night has been a long string of his own mistakes so it’s been tough keeping up. And here’s the biggest one yet, coming straight towards him holding a steel chair: How he treats you. More specifically, how he spoke to you earlier. How indifferent, borderline annoyed, he always acts. It’s true, he’s long been trying to figure out how to press your buttons. But all at once it’s clear that it does get to you. Now that it’s showing, even just a small bit, his wall between you two starts to crumble.

“Couldn’t let anything happen to you either…” you mumble when he doesn’t continue, “Jet was telling me how easily the job could be slipped up. I was a bit intimidated… and when you spoke to me earlier I guess I just accepted that it would be a little out of my league. This was my first real ‘big gig’ after all… and I couldn’t accept the idea of disappointing you.”

Nodding, he finished up the last of tending to the wound for the time being. Regardless, his hand lingers on your shoulder supportively. “I’m… sorry I’ve been hard on you. This lifestyle’s really roughened me out; guess I should be glad it hasn’t gotten to you yet,” he mutters, adding a quick, “You did good.”

The moment it slips from his mouth, he is taken aback. He means that too, but that’s the part that surprises him. Then again, you’d surprised him yourself.

A grin flashes across your face. Sweet and genuine, without a sting of pain. Spike’s heart feels heavy with just a simple glance. It’s like the first time he ever saw you, back when he was keen to notice a glowing aura you possessed. He’d describe it as a pure beauty, if he could have swallowed his pride. However, it’s the added context of knowing who you really are that keeps his attention on you this time around.

“You think I have hope of becoming a ‘real’ bounty hunter like you someday?” you ask, referencing a conversation you’ve shared once before.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, sweetheart,” he replies, a tiny smile appearing on his face.

Sharing a breathily laugh, the two of you soon sit and stare at one another in silence. Outside, people are shouting and police sirens are flaring. Yet his diligent ogling isn’t hindered in the slightest.

“What about respect…?” you test the waters, voice quiet and careful, “You think I’ve at least earned that?”

Smirking, Spike’s head slowly moves from your shoulder to the back of your head. His own leaning down crookedly in correlation, speaking now in a low whisper, “Don’t be modest… you’ve earned more than that.”

In one swift motion, his lips press against yours in a surprisingly soft kiss. Even as people began to pile into the building, police enforcements leading the way, the two of you stayed glued to one another. A news crew even caught a glimpse of the display of affection, only adding to outside confusion.

Breaking away from the kiss, you giggle against his lips, “We’re on TV.”

“Give ‘em a show, then, yeah?” he smirks, leaning closer and planting another kiss on your lips.

At home, within the Bebop’s common area, Jet plops down in his favorite seat with Ein at his side. The man nearly falls out of his chair upon turning on his television.

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stargazer-dreamer · 6 months

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🌟Stargazer-Dreamer Masterlist🌟

those with ✨ indicate my personal favorites

those with ⚪ indicate that it is NOT a reader insert

🚀Cowboy Bebop🚀

Spike Spiegel

Types of Kisses Gift Giving ✨Sterile ✨Lighthouse ✨/r/SpikeSpiegel A Trip to the Cinema ✨Sleeping Doggy Dog Love Me Not [ao3 link] ✨Cheesy Come, Cheesy Go Shark Week ⚪Spike, in the Mornings Kiss the Cook(s) Cowboy Caregiver ✨Erratum Discussions [ao3 link] Interlining Dilemmas Bedroom Funk Vicinity The Most Magical Place on Mars ✨In Comfort; Let Me Rest My Eyes Closed [ao3 link] ✨Futile [ao3 link]

Jet Black

Love A Bit Rough In Which You Haven't Kissed the Cook (Yet) Kiss the Cook(s)

Vampire Money (Vampire Spike AU)

What's Life Like, Bleeding on the Floor? [ao3 link] ⚪✨I've Really Been on a Bender and It Shows [ao3 only] These Eyes Have Had Too Much to Drink Again Tonight [ao3 link]

Cotard and I Alone (Spike Spiegel/Grim Reaper Reader AU)

✨Dedicated Life [ao3 link] Cracking Visions [ao3 link] Attuned Inside [ao3 link]

🏴‍☠️One Piece🏴‍☠️

Trafalgar Law

Heart in Time

Roronoa Zoro

Swordplay Lost Little Marimo

🔮Black Clover🔮

StopRewind (Yami Sukehiro/Rookie Magic Knight Reader)

✨I've Been Told So Many Stories of Adventure, Power, and Glory [ao3 link] It's on the Tip of My Tongue [ao3 link]

💯Mob Psycho 100💯

Misapprehension (Meeting Reigen on a Dating App)

✨Ghostbox [ao3 link] Spiritbox [ao3 link]

🥊Boku no Hero Academia🥊

Hawks

With Hawks ✨Frivolities [ao3 link]

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ilovespike · 7 months

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In the midst of writing a Spike Spiegel centered Cowboy Bebop fanfic... but I'm deciding between making it reader-insert or creating a whole OC? If anyone cares, please send me your opinions ❤

#cowboy bebop #faye valentine #jet black #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #fanfic #anime #reader insert #OC

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moondust-writes · 2 years

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『jet the hawk x gn!reader』 desc; night time fun~ purely self indulgent - initially i was going to wait until my birthday to post this but i honest to god could not wait - warnings; afab reader

The lights of the bedroom meant for one were low, plunging the room into near darkness if it weren’t for the bright glow of the lime colored LEDs that decorated the walls near the ceiling, mewls and moans of ecstasy reverberating in the otherwise quiet space.

On the bed you lay, hands tied loosely to the headboard with your legs spread and perched onto the shoulders of a green hawk, one hand digging his talons into the skin of your thigh as the other played with your sex, pushing against the walls as he stared at your writhing, helpless form.

His feathers raised as you whined out his name, begging for release while his fingers pressed against your prostate before he lowered his head. “Don’t worry baby…” He murmured lovingly as he denied you of your release for the second time that night. “You’ll get it soon.”

With that, Jet replaced his fingers with his tongue, opting to use the muscle to give you what you desired and then some, relishing in the taste of you. The feeling of your legs tensing around him, the breathless gasps and moans as he continued to pleasure you through the orgasm…it was heavenly.

And with reactions like yours? He’s not stopping until you give.

#moondust trail #meteorite incoming #drabbles #reader inserts #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #jet the hawk x reader

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chooseyourownavenger · 2 years

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[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]

IRONHAWK/ Let’s find a car or a jet

“I think we need to get out of here,” you say. “We’re all at risk. Clint - you’re injured, and Tony - you have a crack in your arc. Plus I feel like finding a garage or hanger will be easier than finding Tony’s suit or a control room. Hangers are up, garages are down.”

Tony nods. “I think you’re right. Things are in disarray here and if we can just get away, head toward a town, we can call the Avengers for a pickup and storm the place.”

Clint shrugs. “Yeah. We just have to hope they don’t come after us.”

The three of you head back into the vents and make your way up, figuring that at the very least if you go up, you’ll find the way outside and maybe there will be a vehicle you use there.

As you move through the building, power goes on and off again as different sections try to deal with the issue of the major electromagnetic pulse that has caused havoc on the facility.

Finally, the three of you make it outside. It’s scorchingly hot and even just kicking out the vent covering proves difficult due to how hot it is, and the fact none of you have any shoes.

People are running around everywhere, and the three of you very carefully, creep around the building to find a vehicle.

You find a Land Rover parked not too far from where you’d climbed out of the vent, and it only takes Clint a moment to unlock it using a strip of metal he broke off the grate.

Before anyone can argue, Tony is in the driver’s seat, hot-wiring the car. You want to argue with him. He’s the most recognizable of the three of you, and you’re worried that if people spot him, you’ll immediately be pursued.

But you know he’s driven in races and he regularly pilots the Iron Man armor at high speeds. Besides, you also don’t want to draw attention to yourself by arguing with him. You jump into the back seat and you and Clint duck down as Tony hot-wires the car. It only takes him a second before he’s pulling out and keeping his head low, trying not to attract any attention as he heads toward the gate.

“Pull up somewhere before we get to the gate,” Clint says. “I’ll take out the guard and let you through.”

Tony nods in agreement and as you get close, he stops in a row of empty vehicles, and Clint jumps out and runs around to the guard booth. You keep your head down, so you can’t see what’s happening, but a moment later, Tony starts driving the car forward. You sneak a look and see Clint manually pulling the gate open, his muscles straining.

“Shit,” Tony says. “The power must still be out.”

“Can he get it open?” you ask.

“It’s moving but there is no way it’s not going to attract attention,” Tony explains, and quickly looks around.

“Should I go out and help him?” you ask.

Tony shakes his head. “You drive. I’ll go help. I have an idea.”

He jumps out of the car and runs to Clint and you get into the driver’s seat. The two men slowly heave the gate open, but just as Tony had expected, the HYDRA agents start to notice you. A small group run over yelling and someone fires a shot. Clint returns fire as Tony continues to push the gate open. Looking into the rearview mirror, you see people drop, but more are coming and you know Clint doesn’t have that much ammo.

Tony lets out a roar as he shoves the gate open just enough to get the car through. He and Clint jump out of the way and you gun the car through, stopping on the other side to wait for the men. You can hear more gunfire and you climb into the passenger seat, hoping they hurry. As you’re scrambling over the center console, a flash of blue lights up the facility. A moment later, Clint and Tony come running to the car. Tony is pale, and his arc reactor is much dimmer than you’ve ever seen it. Even still, he gets into the driver's seat and as soon as Clint’s in the back, he guns it.

“Buckle up kids,” Tony says.

You put on your seatbelt as told, but even still you’re thrown from side to side as Tony tears out of the facility, taking the corners as fast as he can without rolling the car.

The color is draining from Clint’s face too, and you start wondering if either man is going to be able to make it until there’s a rest stop. Australia is large and depending on where you are and what direction you’re driving, it could be hours before you see anyone else. Plenty of time for HYDRA to get a jet into the air to come after you.

After winding in and out of a dirt road that’s hidden in rock formations and scrubland, he pulls out onto a long tarred road that goes straight in either direction as far as the eyes can see. “We’re in South Australia. I think that means we want to go south.”

“Maybe I should drive, Tony,” you say as he pulls into the road and starts driving.

He shakes his head. “If they do send jets after us, it’d be better if I’m driving. I have experience with that kind of thing.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” you argue.

“I’ll be fine. And I promise if I’m not I’ll let you drive,” he says. “Hopefully we can find a gas station or something soon. If we do that, I’ll see if I can convince the person running it to trade us cars and I’ll let you drive. But while we’re in this car we’re a target.”

It’s hours before a gas station pops up. In that time the landscape barely changes, and the road never seems to bend. You pass some trucks and cars coming the other direction, though if there are any cars in front of you, even at the crazy speed Tony is driving, you never reach them.

As you approach the station you see it’s more than just a gas station. It’s a roadhouse, gift shop, bar, motel, and caravan park. As Tony pulls off onto the slip lane it’s clear the place isn’t the most visited service center in the world, but there is one car filling up, and another couple parked out the front of the roadhouse. Down a little driveway to the side of the service center is a row of gum trees with a couple of cars towing caravans parked along it. Tony pulls his car between them, you assume to keep the car hidden from the road and above. He straightens out the shirt of yours he’s wearing. “Okay, keep your heads down. I’ll go in and get us some clothes and send a message to FRIDAY to send the airforce and avengers out there. I’ll book us a room too.”

“How will you pay?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’s not like you have your wallet with you,” Clint agrees.

“This time, the fact I’m recognizable is a benefit,” he says. “I’ll call FRIDAY reverse charges. Get my credit card number, and convince the clerk to let me just use the numbers because he can tell I’m me. I’ll offer him a huge tip if he agrees.”

“Get me some painkillers,” Clint says from the back seat. “Some bandages too.”

“Back as soon as I can,” he says and hurries back toward the service center.

You look back at Clint who’s lying on the back seat, looking very green. “You okay?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I am pretty sure I’ve broken a couple of ribs and my arm,” he says. “All that climbing and now being rattled around in the car…” He shakes his head again. “I hope they have something strong.”

“I hope they have a room with air conditioning. I’m glad Tony left the car running or we’d cook in here.”

Clint nods. “The heat’s not helping. Fuck… I’m so sorry I got you into all this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It’s their fault. You and Tony have done everything you can to get us out safe.”

“No wonder you didn’t want to spend the night with us,” he says. “Being with us would get you killed.”

“This was a fluke, Clint,” you say. “And no matter what happened at that party this would have happened to me because I was at the Tower for work. I said no because I’m not a one-night stand person, and add to the fact there are two of you - it freaked me out. But - I am a dating person.”

He sits up a little, wincing, but before he says anything, a jet flies by overhead, going too low. You both duck, but peer out the window looking up. “That’s them right?” you ask.

“Has to be. It was going way too fast to see us in here,” he says. They’re probably just hoping to see the car heading down the road. We would have been sitting ducks out on the highway.”

“Fuck… we made it just in time,” you say.

“Don’t get too complacent. If they have jets out, they’ll have other aircraft and cars too. I’d expect they’ll come by with helicopters soon, taking a closer look. We should still be hidden enough from them then, but after that will be cars - if they got any of them going. Car’s will be a problem. They’ll have to assume that if they didn’t spot us by air, we’re here or at a homestead on the way, and they’ll stop to check them. Worse would be if they get lots of choppers in the air and they stop at every place on the way.”

“You’d think they wouldn’t waste resources like that,” you say.

“I don’t want to make assumptions about what they’d do, but we are safer hidden here than out on the road. But we really were sitting ducks,” Clint says. “I could take down a jet with an arrow on a good day. But I don’t have an arrow and I have a busted arm. Maybe I could do it with a gun. I’m glad I didn’t have to test that theory.”

It takes Tony a little while before he returns, and in that time another jet had buzzed overhead, slower than the last. He arrives laden down with bags and wearing a new outfit of shorts, flip flops, and a tank top with a pair of reflective sunglasses. He tosses a bag into the back that contains an outfit matching his and a light, floral dress that is definitely not your style. You pull it on, glad to be in clean clothes and the three of you head to the motel, moving quickly but trying not to go so fast that you draw attention to yourselves.

It’s scorching outside and as soon as you step into the motel room, it’s immediate relief. It’s not exactly luxury living. The floor is white tiles and shockingly peach walls. The only furniture in the room is two white laminate side tables, a white laminate wardrobe and shelf that contains a mini fridge, and a queen-sized bed that has an exposed base and cheap-looking sheets.

None of you care about any of that, you’re just happy to no longer be exposed. Clint immediately lies down on the bed. “Painkillers,” he whines.

Tony drops all the begs on the shelf above the mini-fridge. I got a bunch of drinks. And food. I’m starving, I don’t know about all of you. Those jets didn’t spot you, did they?” He speaks fast, practically babbling as he digs through the bags. “I didn’t have any problem with them taking my credit card numbers, and I told FRIDAY to get Steve to bring one of the expense cards just in case.”

He pulls out a beer and some ibuprofen. “Sorry, Hawk,” he says, handing them over. “They didn’t have anything stronger than this.”

“Better than nothing,” he says.

As Clint takes some pills, Tony brings the food over and lays it out, there are ice creams, potato chips, cans of beer, premixed bourbon and coke, soda, bottles of juice, and thin, styrofoam containers that contain burgers and thick cut fries.”

“Oh, thank god,” you say as you sit on the bed. You pick up a burger and take a large bite.

Clint winces as he drags a burger closer to him. “I was so stressed out I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“I swear, when we get back, I’m taking you both out for the most extravagant meal ever,” Tony says. “It’s going to be like 23 courses.”

Clint laughs and winces again. “I’d be happy with a slice from Joe’s and some garlic knots. Especially if you’re buying, Tones.”

“I’d be happy to, Cupid,” Tony replies.

“How about you?” Tony asks, turning to you. “Will you let us take you out?”

“That depends? Are we just celebrating getting out of this alive, or is it a date?” you ask.

Tony shrugs. “I’d like it to be a date, but I’ll settle for celebration.”

“Hard same,” Clint agrees.

I’d love to go on a date

I think after this, it’s friends only

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okaihauexpress · 6 months

Note

bahaha I’m the anon from artielotl, for some reason I was almost sure you’d hate reader inserts but I’m glad u don’t! honestly I don’t mind what the fic is or what it’s about, I was just hoping for a Sam x reader ☠️ I love men with long hair like mmmm come here Rapunzel

hope this is what you were looking for dear nonnie! it's my first time writing reader insert in about 3 years so hopefully it not too bad!

As an adult, saying you had a "crush" felt embarrassingly childish. You weren't some kid on the playground at recess giggling about the cute boy who'd - GASP! - sat next to you in class, you were an adult with a job, bills, and responsibilities. But it was impossible to describe how you felt about Sam with any other word.

So, despite how it made you cringe, you accepted that you had a crush on Sam. But you also accepted that you weren't going to do anything about it. Back in elementary school you could've played kiss-chase (though in all your years of playing, you'd never actually seen anyone kiss anyone else), but an adult that wasn't exactly an option. At best, it'd produce an awkward laugh - at worst a restraining order and a suspended jail sentence.

You thought you did a good job of keeping it to yourself. You'd talk to Sam in casual conversation - kind of hard not to, given you worked at Nebula and he was the Chief Content Officer - but you didn't feel like you blushed outrageously or stumbled over your words. Conversations and meetings went on without a hitch, no one was any the wiser to the fact that every time you saw him your heart quickened. The scenarios you played over in your mind every night before bed - where Sam was suave and smooth talking and swept you off your feet - weren't known to a single soul.

Even if you'd spent the last few weeks (or was it months?) mentally planning out whether or not you'd take the surname Denby when you eventually married him, Sam approaching you at a work event was unexpected. It was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. If you'd known in advance that he was going to try and talk to you outside the carefully define boundaries of a meeting or an email, you wouldn't have had so much to drink. You hadn't drunk a lot, but enough that you could feel your head spinning as you turned and your lips looser than they should be.

"Hi," you breathed, and immediately you wondered if you'd sounded too in love? Maybe Sam would notice and freak out, maybe he'd report you to HR, maybe he'd--

"Hi," he replied, and you swore he sounded just as nervous as you did. Surely that was impossible though, as much as you'd spent the last few months (or was it weeks?) marinating in your emotions, you couldn't possibly imagine living in a world where he felt the same way about you.

There was a long silence after the greeting, and you analysed everything you'd done that entire evening in the few seconds that passed. Everything you could've done wrong flashed before your eyes, and you eventually took in a sharp breath and stood up as straight as you could.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" You asked, trying to step aside as you spoke.

Big mistake. The alcohol you'd consumed that had made you feel as if your head was spinning really started to hit as you moved, and you felt yourself losing your balance. You put out one hand to steady yourself - falling in front of Sam that second worst thing you could think of happening - only for that to directly result in the worst thing happening.

When you reached out, your hand collided with Sam's chest. In an instant you felt your body heating up with embarrassment. You were nothing short of mortified at the accidental touch and the way that it made you feel, and you prayed to every God you'd ever heard of - from every religion you could conceive - that the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you hole.

It didn't. You were still standing in front of Sam with your hand still on his chest - your humiliation having frozen you in place.

Sam, though, didn't seem to be upset. He wasn't frowning or scowling, there was no look of disgust on his face, there was just... Amusement? He was smiling, that was for certain, and he looked as if he was laughing too. Not laughing at you - Sam would never laugh at you - but then if he wasn't laughing at you, what could he be laughing at?

"You, uh, you seem to have-- Wait, can I start over?" Sam asked. Still in a state of shock you found the courage to nod twice, and Sam's smile widened again.

This time, before he spoke, he raised his hand. His fingers stretched out almost timidly, finding your wrist and slowly - touch almost featherlike - working over your palm. He looked down to where your hands were touching, then to you, as if to asses if this was okay.

You nodded again - just once this time - and he slotted his fingers between your own. Your mind was racing, and it wasn't just the effects of the alcohol you'd consumed. Sam was... He'd... He'd found you - gone out of his way to find you - at a party and now he was holding your hand. This wasn't real. You were going to wake up from a wonderful dream and have to face him at work and pretend you hadn't thought about yet another happily ever after.

"You fell for me," he said, though it almost seemed to be posed like a question.

A second silence lingered between the two of you, but this time you found yourself bursting out laughing. The dreams of a charismatic Sam had warmed you all over and left you feeling loved by this made up version of the man now standing before you, but the real Sam - awkwardly trying to get out a pickup line - was charming and endearing in his own way.

"I did," you laughed, your smile widening until you were beaming from ear to ear. "Whatever website told you to use that is out to get you. You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty men that can't smooth-talk to save their lives."

"You think I'm pretty?" Sam asked, and your expression softened. His cheeks turned pink at the compliment and his eyes seemed to sparkle under the bright party lights. You'd always thought he was pretty, but the way he looked at you right now - like you'd just said the kindest thing he'd ever heard - made him so much more than just pretty.

"I think you're beautiful," you whispered. Summoning up courage from seemingly thin air you squeezed Sam's hand in your own and pressed your lips together, hoping that you hadn't misread the situation. It would, admittedly, be a case of terribly misguided signals on Sam's part if you had, but that fear never came to pass.

He just squeezed your hand tightly in return, and you knew that you'd work it out together.

#reader x sam denby #jet lag the game fanfic #anon #icb ben is sending reader insert requests guys damn

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merlucide · 30 days

Note

PLEASEEEEE CAN YOU WRITE HEADCANONS WITH RIN, KAISER, SAE, OTOYA AND REO AND A SHYREADER WHOS SHY AROUND PEOPLE SHE DOESNT KNOW BUT CRAZZYYYY AROUND PEOPLE SHE DOES KNOW PLSSSSS

BLLK BOYS WITH A SHY BUT CRAZY S/O

Notes: OFC WIFEY. Also… this scenario, seems, a bit self insert don’t you think…. 👀 ALSO LMAO I MADE READER UNHINGED?? SO- SORRY LMAO?

characters: Rin, Sae, Kaiser, Otoya, Reo

wc: about 300ish each

warnings: nb reader, cursing, randomness + cringe lmao😭

ITOSHI RIN

Well tbh, y’all probably had to have been friends for a loooong time for him to ever considering dating you 😭😭

So Rin had a good understanding of your personality, as you had known each other pretty much since the beginning of time.

He never understood how your personality went from 0 to 1000 whenever you two are alone.

He prob thinks ur on drugs tbh

He’ll be your voice for you if you can’t seem to communicate with strangers, though he might not be the friendliest no shit.

he thinks it’s dumb that you’re shy tbh

He’s small minded about these things okay 😭

He never ever will get used to your bursts of crazy energy.

he swears he’ll turn around and you’ll have a horse mask on with a tutu around your waist

ITOSHI SAE

lmao you give him terrible whiplash.

He too, also thinks you’re on drugs.

You and Sae would like be at the airport on the way to Japan, his manager would be going over the details and precautions for going to Japan (yk fans and press or whatever etc etc).

His manager looked over to you and asked if you were alright, since you literally hadn’t spoken a word since he introduced himself a two hours ago.

You nodded and followed Sae and his manager onto the private jet(cus he’s rich-rich😌🤭)

Once y’all were settled, his manager closed you and Sae’s cabin door.

Sae looked over to see if you were alright, since traveling and yadda yadda can be overwhelming.

You were fucking giggling like an underwater hyena (that’s a thing I bc I fucking said so bitch).

You grabbed his hands and pulled back and forth giggling about how stoked you were rn.

LMAO HE WAS TOTALLY LOOKING AT U LIKE THIS

KAISER MICHEAL

lmao he was disturbed at first 💀

like “wtf happens to my shy, sweet, s/o??”

He’ll like be getting a glass of water at night and in the corner of his eye, you hold a flashlight at your face with a blanket wrapped around you. Staring into his soul, inches behind singing.

“hello darkness my old frienddd~”

He just blinked at you for a while.

“Y/N what the fuck is wrong with you.”

ANYWHOOO!

He thinks it’s funny af though

Like how nervous you get around his teammates and then when y’all are home you start cartwheeling.

You sure keep his life ✨spontaneous✨

OTOYA EITA

LMAO A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

YOUR RANDOM AF.

HES RANDOM AF.

= SOULMATES

he thinks it’s so cute how shy you are

He loves that bc ur shy around strangers you cling/stay close to him. He feels so sigma male bc he’s ’protecting’ you🐺🐺🔊🔊🗣️🗣️😏😏

Someone humble him please.

LMAO HE’LL GO LIKE:

“Babe watch this😏” and ninja pose really fast LIKE A LITTLE KID DABBING

And you’ll be like:

“Nah watch this😌” *does the worm*

Y’all T-pose at pidgend together 💕 #couplegoals

MIKAGE REO

LMAO HE’LL BE DAYDREAMING AND LIKE-

“My dearest Y/N! Oh they’re such an angel! They’re so pretty and kind and perfect! And amazing- is that them in a dinosaur inflatable doing the WAP in 6 inch heels?”

lmao kinda how it goes

He never really gets used to the switch up.

It makes him so happy that you feel comfortable to be yourself around him, even if that means painting yourself pink and putting googly-eyes on while blasting the Peppa Pig intro💗

He loves hearing people talk about you too.

“Oh y/n is really shy, but they’re nice I guess?” Like hah okay..

Pretty sure they weren’t crab walking in a tuxedo with a kazoo in their mouth playing Sinfonia N°9 Coral in D Minor, Op. 125: 1. Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso by Beethoven 🙄🙄

LMAO I HAD NO IDEA WERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS. I WAS LIKE “wtf am I gonna do😦”

made April 21st 2024

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agendabymooner · 21 days

Text

SOMETHING CAUTIOUS !!! LIAM L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: the word lost its meaning when she became an aphrodisiac that didn’t need to be consumed.

content warning: smut below the cut (minors dni!), short blurb i’m sorry, fingering if you blink, suggestive, exhibitionism content, outdoor sex (hot tub), this didn’t eat i’m sorry

💌re:moony's planner request: i saw a picture of him in a hot tub and i so want like outdoor sex with the thrill that anybody can see them and get caught 🙏

note: where have i been? idk- but i hope you guys enjoyed that australia 2024 podium finishers smut tho— now all of my requests are threesomes. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

for her, the hot tub that was laid outside the deck of their secluded airbnb was meant to be a place for relaxation - the view of the mountains was right in front of her.

the sight of the mountain was so beautiful that she couldn’t help but lean over the edge of the tub as the jetted stream let the hot water flow with movements.

it was a delightful sight. alongside that was a serenity that the airbnb offered. the only thing that she could hear was the bubbling of the hot tub and her casual paddling beneath the water.

but to the new zealander, the mountains in front of the tub wasn’t the delightful sight he was staring at.

it was the backside of his girlfriend; the curves that glistened because of the water while she wore nothing but a bikini that had her butt peeking out.

liam lawson didn’t need an aphrodisiac to feel hot and bothered. not when his girlfriend was a delightful sight to see- in the most raunchy yet romantic way possible, if liam would say so himself.

liam didn’t even second guess as soon as he hopped into his swim trunks, slipping onto the hot tub right behind her without making her aware of his presence.

she seemed to be mesmerized by the view. liam could give her a reason to be mesmerized; it didn't have anything to do with the view though.

she sighed softly when liam’s lips began to attach themselves onto the nape of her neck, her hips automatically pushing itself back against his as liam’s hands pulled her closer.

under the water, his hips grinded against hers and she moaned at the friction shared between them.

“mmm- li,” she uttered, her protests falling apart because of her reactions, “we’re outdoors.”

“hmmm…” liam didn’t even hear what she said, too busy feeling her up from behind and his hand snaking through her bikini bottom.

she whimpered at his brief touch of her clit as she continued to protest, “people might see—“

liam smirked at her comment as he said, “yeah? in such a private area?”

“li…”

liam tutted his girlfriend softly while he continued to press against her clit and make a slow circular motion on it. “baby, we paid for the whole place. whoever sees that’s their fault.

“you love it don’t you?” liam let out a hum while he continued to nip on her ear, “you love the thought of being caught while you’re too fucked out, hm? you want to be fucked out here, no?”

“i can tell you want to be fucked out here, baby,” liam teased his blushing girlfriend, who couldn’t help but moan and whimper. “you want people to catch you getting all horny and hot f’me.”

“yeah…” she whispered quietly.

“yeah?” liam chuckled huskily, as if he was taunting her to speak more.

he knew he had her at the palm of his hand. she was already a putty when he began touching her, so he did the next best thing that followed her reaction and liam inserted a finger into her seeping cunt.

“you’re already wet at the thought of it and that’s not even the jacuzzi, baby,” liam crooned with a sinister grin, his other hand tugging off her bikini and leaving it to rest somewhere outside of the tub.

he kicked off his swim trunks, his toned arm reaching out to tug on her hair as she let out a pitiful whine of his name, “liam, please! fuck…”

“please what?” liam taunted, “please make you scream? make everyone know how much of a slut you are for me?”

“please what, baby?”

no word escaped her mouth, leaving liam to chuckle darkly.

it was as if she was already long gone before she could even warn him about keeping it down and fucking her inside the rental instead.

this gave liam more control and more opportunities to wear her out. the word ‘cautious’ lost its meaning the moment liam fingered her in this outdoor jacuzzi and her eyes began to roll back.

“let’s see how much you can scream f’me, baby,” liam said, sliding his cock into her desperate hole.

he didn’t care about losing his dignity- fucking outdoors where people could possibly see them.

he was getting lost in her beauty and her sobbing while she told him that she was cumming over and over again.

his hips couldn’t even find themselves to stop, overstimulating himself and her while liam continued to thrust his cock until he repeatedly glided into her sensitive spot.

he couldn’t care much about anything. he couldn’t even find himself to be cautious when all he knew was that his girlfriend was weeping for his cock and for more.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

#formula one imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #liam lawson x reader #liam lawson #liam lawson smut #f1 smut #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1

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buckets-and-trees · 1 month

Text

Prepare For Takeoff

Title: Prepare For Takeoff Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #mafia au #chris evans characters #soft dark andy barber #I'm your man #aspen wrote something

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triple-7-heaven · 1 year

Text

ONCE AGAIN

thank you for waiting for me, readers. i do hope you enjoy it ♡ my first aespa fic, awesome! i've been going through it, thus the lack of content, but things are looking up for me. take care of yourselves, until next time :-) pairing: male reader x winter; words: 6.5k ; categories: aespa, winter, reader insert, smut, slightly storyline heavy

Back in high school, there was a girl who shone above the rest, but wasn’t necessarily popular. A girl who was a member of the math club, the photography club, and the dance team, whose evenings were filled with activities, who made many friends, but wasn’t fawned over by the student body in the way the true popular kids were.

One evening, you were at school pretty late, tutoring in the library. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the time passing, until the janitor came in and told you he’d be needing to clean the library up, so you’d better scram. Backpack full of books, you rushed out of the library, and quickly made your way through the dark hallway. You turned the corner and nearly collided with a small girl, who grabbed onto your arm to steady herself.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you said, and the girl looked up at you. Oh, perfect… “Minjeong, shit, I’m sorry…”

“Hosang, what are you doing here so late?” Minjeong asked.

“Uh, tutoring… You know my name?” you asked incredulously. She smoothed out your sleeve, folded the collar of your shirt down, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You know mine, too,” she quipped and giggled before running to catch up with her dance team friends, leaving you without room to explain yourself. To explain that no, I promise it isn’t weird, everyone knows your name, Minjeong, I’m not a crazy stalker, and I’m not here to spy on you through the gym windows while you dance. But you never got to explain yourself. To be fair, you did admire her from a distance. In the halls, at lunch, you wouldn’t deny that you looked at her with heart-shaped eyes. As pretty as you thought she was, you didn’t ever talk to her, something you would eventually regret.

Minjeong dropped out, and you didn’t run into her again. After graduation, you headed off to Seoul to learn how to fly, and soon, you realized someone else had come, too. Billboards, advertisements, you name it. For a solid month, wherever you looked, you saw her.

The same Kim Minjeong who you nearly sacked in the hallway that night, who, instead of yelling or being upset, straightened your clothes and wished you a good night; who knew your name when you were nobody. She was Winter, now, styled with gorgeous long, blonde hair, imposed over ethereal backgrounds and colors. You had to give it to whatever company she was running with, they made that old crush of yours flare right back up again with the way they marketed that girl. Financially stable enough under an air charter company flying small private jets, you decided you’d buy a set of the group’s albums when they debuted. Sitting on the floor of your apartment, pulling the photocards and posters out of those albums, you felt the full force of the regret from your school days: if you’d only talked to her in high school, you could have her number in your phone right this minute… But you were resigned now to being a fan, and a strongly biased one. That’s all you could be.

Charter piloting has benefits. Loads, surely. You’re essentially a glorified taxi driver, charging rich business people and celebrities $20k for a one hour flight from Incheon to Jeju. It’s morally wrong to allow a sucker to keep his money, right? As good as the pay, benefits, and overall experience are, the clientele… Well. Nothing you hate more than a stuck-up diva, and it’s even worse when you’re trapped in a flying metal tube with them. But you make do; the idol sightings you get on the job make all the asshole corporates worth it. From old school stars your parents might know, to drama actors and actresses, to the newest generation of idols, you welcomed a ton of each aboard, more than you could ever remember if you didn’t write it down. Unforgettable guests come along now and then; a trio of Twice members one weekend, some big-name producers behind insurmountably popular groups for a surfing trip, and the casts of award-winning shows on celebratory benders. Unforgettable loses its meaning when your secretary hands you today’s clipboard.

“This is mine? Thought it was… Uh…” you trail off and your eyes widen. The secretary laughs behind the desk.

“I knew it! You’re her fan, right? You always talk about Aespa. And I know you have her photocard in your wallet,” she winks at you as your face fills with an embarrassingly deep blush.

“It’s not just that, Jihye. I knew her in high school,” you say hesitantly.

“Oh my God, it’s like a reunion!” the girl squeals. “Wait, were you cool in high school?” she laughs.

“Uh… I don’t-”

“Yup, I knew it,” she says matter-of-factly. “Let me guess, the lame, nerdy guy had a crush on the cool-chick future idol?”

“No! Well, I don’t know,” you say. Your mind is too busy racing to think properly. The young secretary giggles to herself as you walk to the hangar. Preflight routines are difficult to complete when your mind’s racing faster than a Blackbird. Would she recognize you? Should you say something? Nah… You’re kicking tires pretending to be busy and the door opens. The trail end of a conversation…

“-ng is going to be your pilot. He’s a great aviator and an even better tour guide, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you around the island,” Jihye says. That damn secretary.

“Hosang? I feel like I’ve known someone with- oh, hi,” Minjeong stops abruptly when Jihye walks her around the aircraft to meet you. Long, wavy, dark hair, with bangs curled and blown out to mathematical perfection. Fair, unlined skin of a small and cute face. A simple and comfortable black sweater, a modest manicure, and plain, natural eye makeup. You bow shyly and wave.

“All good to go?” Jihye asks with the most annoying smile in the world.

“Yep,” you answer. Jihye departs and you welcome Minjeong to get comfortable while you finish up. A strange look occupies those perfect features as you give her a quick safety brief, then turn to enter the cockpit. Before the door closes behind you, “if you need anything, let me know.”

Why are you cold with her? Why are you nervous? You hardly smiled at her or asked what she was traveling for… Pure white clouds roll calmly underneath you. You resolve to be nice to her, even if she doesn’t recognize you, because let’s be real, it’s not her fault for not recognizing you. She meets tons of people. You’re just some not-cool kid from high school who had a crush on the cool-chick future idol. A pilot report over the radio snaps you out of it as you enter Jeju International’s airspace. Gusting winds and vertical movement, it’ll be a bumpy ride down. You reach for the intercom.

“Hey Minjeong, forgive me if I startled you. Looking at some rough air on the way down, but we’re about 20 minutes out. I’d sit down and belt in if you aren’t already, okay? Call if there’s any issues, and think of what you’d like for dinner.” You toggle off the intercom and wonder where the hell that came from. What, Jihye said you’d be happy to show Minjeong around the island, right? So you’ll show her. Your inner autopilot (funny…) takes over and you idly nudge the yoke for your approach phases. Wheels on the ground, hangar door shut, you stand and exit the cockpit. Minjeong looks up at you sleepily, and you sit across from her on one of the bench-style seats.

“So… dinner ideas?” you ask. Minjeong stands up and points at you groggily, shuffling towards you until her finger pokes the center of your chest.

“You. You went to my school, didn’t you?” she says, tiredness dripping from her voice. You nod and meet her eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me…” you say softly, honestly. She moves her hand to your shoulder.

“Well you’re bigger, yeah, but… I recognize you. Bigger and taller. Same face,” she says. The smile can’t be kept off your face, unfortunately, and Minjeong smiles too.

“You sound really tired. Let’s get going,” you say. After a quick post-flight and signing off with the hangar staff, you face her and say: “Gonna change really quick, then we’ll head to dinner.” You slip into the FBO restroom and drop your duffel, then slip out of your annoyingly stiff white uniform shirt. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, then pull on a plain black t-shirt before swapping your slacks for black jeans. One careful ruffle of the hair later, and you’re leaving the restroom to meet Minjeong in the hallway.

“Alright, ready.” You carry Minjeong’s luggage and she trails behind you, much like a puppy, on the way to the parking lot. The modest rent car’s parked right where the staff told you, so you open the door for Minjeong and she shoots you a confused smirk. You smile back, and hop into the driver’s seat.

“So what’s the occasion? Family in Jeju?” you ask.

“Honestly, I… When I get time off, I run a secret travel blog… So I take vacations, and take pictures and stuff,” she says quietly. “I dunno, it’s kind of silly.”

“How come it’s silly? Sounds fun to me. We’ll have to go to some really cool places so you can write a good post, huh?” you reply. “Now, dinner?”

“Mm. I’m too tired to think,” she mumbles. Great, now the pressure’s on you to pick something perfect…

“How about Black Pork Street? Could make for some good photos, and it’s really as good as people say it is,” you say and put the car in gear.

“Sounds good…” she trails off. Really, really sleepy. But she makes an effort to talk to you. She makes an effort to keep the focus off of herself, and more on you; she asks you how graduation was, since she didn’t go, and you really had to reach deep into your memory for that one. She asks you about flying, about why you chose it, about your life in Seoul, and about how you never ran into each other in the city. You hold yourself back from saying ‘well no, Minjeong, we haven’t run into each other in a city of 10 million people, with about 9,999,999 of those people being more interesting than me.’ When you arrive, Minjeong is lively and excited, telling you about her camera and asking what’s next after dinner. You kick yourself when you start wishing for a specific sort of dessert. Quit being dirty-minded, idiot…

“Let’s go! I’m hungry,” Minjeong says, dragging you out of your thoughts. She looks perfect taking photos on the street, pointing her camera at the sky, at signs, storefronts, plants, street cats. The way her eyes light up when she takes a good photo, runs over to show you, insists that you take a few of her; she’s not much different than she was back then, huh? A person with a good heart. A person whose heart you’d like to learn.

“Is it our honeymoon? First date? Must be a first date, you look nervous,” the dorky waiter says, nodding to you. Minjeong laughs, and you blush; the difference between you.

“Uh… J-just high school friends,” you manage to say. Minjeong jots notes and snaps photos throughout the meal, and as you’re serving up some pork belly for her, she takes a few photos.

“C’mon, make it look nice,” she whines.

“You’re serious about this, huh?” you laugh.

“It’s… It’s my baby. My project. My travel blog is like… I dunno, it’s a way for me to be creative, but not be Winter. It’s a way to just be Minjeong,” she slowly explains. “To have a space that’s all my own. Where I can talk about stuff I like, and not worry about press, or netizens, or fans, or anti-fans.”

“I get it. A space of your own. I should call you Minjeong then, right?” you say, nodding your head a bit too fast and a bit too much. She smiles and nods. But she nods like a regular person, not like you.

Dinner passes without incident. If we can ignore the waiter thing. Do you look like a couple or something? Maybe you do compliment each other. Maybe you seem like high school sweethearts. Maybe you could be.

“Hosang?” she says as she leans forward. “You in there? Let’s go to the hotel!” You snap out of it for the second time and hop up to lead the way to the rent car. The paperwork Jihye gave you had most of the information listed for Minjeong’s trip, and the hotel she’d be staying in was, of course, the Lotte City Hotel. No less grandeur for the princess. The GPS gets you there quickly, and you pull up to the front doors, leaving the car on as you grab Minjeong’s suitcase. Just as you’re rounding the front of the car and waving goodnight, she makes a confused face.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” she whines. Minjeong the kid…

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna head to the motel near the airport, that’s where my room is. Did you need something else?” you say.

God, why do I sound like a customer service bot? ‘Did you need something else?’ Seriously?

“I… I dunno, I guess I just wanted someone to hang out with,” she replies.

Oh. To hang out?

“Oh, of course, Minjeong. Let me park, I’ll meet you,” you say. And she’s waiting for you in the same spot once you return to the front door; she didn’t even go inside. Her long, dark hair’s ruffled by the wind. Cute.

NO. Not cute. Not cute or pretty or hot. She’s my client, my customer, my responsibility; not my crush, my girlfriend, or my next body. Look at the ground or something, for the love of God, Hosang.

But looking at the ground can’t keep her legs from your peripheral view. She walks through the sliding doors and you follow behind with her suitcase in your hand, and your duffel on your shoulder. Long, slender, perfect legs, and you’re looking right at them. You snap your gaze to the windows and pretend to be looking at the skyline through the windows while Minjeong checks in. After a moment, she turns to you and smiles.

“Do you have a swimsuit?” she asks. You shake your head. “There’s shops on the bottom floors, go and find one, okay? Meet me on the sixth floor. There’s a pool! The pictures are gonna be perfect!”

She shoves a room key into your hand and takes the bags from you. You’re left in the lobby, dumbfounded, wondering how you should navigate this. A bellhop whistles at you.

“First night with her? Sheesh,” the young man says. “Score!”

“Weird situation, man. Weird as hell,�� you trail off as you walk away, still shaking your head, more so to yourself now. Okay, shops. Swimsuit. You begin to feel insecurity nagging at you. You’re lean, sure, but not perfect. Not as perfect as… Well, nevermind. Quickly, you make your way through the shops, and find a pair of rather plain, mid-length black trunks at a duty free shop, changing into them in the restroom and leaving your shirt on. The elevator ride lasts forever. And ever. And ever. Until the robotic voice announces,

Sixth floor.

The doors open and you walk quietly out to the open area of the pool. You see one figure in the water already. She’s facing the city, hugging the edge of the pool and gazing at the skyline. The water laps at her back, just below her shoulder blades, and the silky smooth skin of her back is laid out for you, with only thin bikini straps to cover it. Her arms and shoulders are small, toned, but soft. Fancams and jacket shoots could never do justice to the sculpted angel right in front of your face.

“How’s the temperature?” you say. She turns around. Her top is composed of white strings and back fabric; conservative, but form-fitting to her chest, that Goldilocks chest, the perfect balance of size and shape. Her collarbones are distinct, curved, beautiful. Hell, every curve you can see is perfect, from the angle of her jaw to the base of her neck to the gentle taper of her arms.

“It’s heated,” she giggles. “Come on!” Insecurity. Nagging. Loudly.

“Are you sure? I can just hang out and take pictures for you up here, it’s not-”

“Come onnn,” she pleads. You turn away from her and slowly drag your shirt off, then kick your shoes and socks off near where Minjeong left hers. The water is slightly warmer than room temperature, and a welcome change from the chilly air. You sit yourself down on a ledge in the pool, and Minjeong swims to your side, sitting right next to you. Not close enough to touch.

“See? Isn’t it nice up here?” she says.

“It is. Ever been to Jeju before?” you ask.

“Nope. I think it’s even nicer with a good tour guide.”

“Ah, come on. I’m not all that.”

“You’re…” she trails off and sighs. Her hair tickles your shoulder when she leans into you. “I wish I’d talked to you more back then.”

“Hmm? Don’t worry about it, that’s way past us,” you mumble.

“So… If I said I wanted to make up for lost time… What would you say?” she says and you feel her fingertips smoothly run over your leg under the water.

“I think I’d ask where that idea came from,” you say breathlessly. She moves her hand to your waist, arm around your front.

“I always liked you. I just didn’t think you liked me, you were always so quiet,” she says. Your hand, now, meets her waist, and your eyes meet hers.

“Is this okay? I mean… Can you do stuff like this? Now that you’re all famous and everything,” you say, struggling to form any words at all, overwhelmed by the electric sensations of skin on skin underwater. She cups your cheek with a wet hand and nods to the camera bag.

“Can I get some pictures for the blog? Before… Before I forget,” she finishes cautiously.

Before you forget, huh… Gonna make me take an impromptu bikini shoot of one of the most beautiful women ever. No big deal.

Minjeong disentangles from you; she tosses you a towel and you dry your hands, then power on the camera. Eyes fixed on the camera’s display screen, you start shooting. She moves through pose after pose, and you can feel yourself hardening. How could you not? A perfect, slim, pale Minjeong, body covered with water droplets, her skin shining in the flash of the camera.

“Would you check and see if those ones are any good?” she calls to you. You begin scrolling through the photos, and sure, they’re great. It would be hard to take a bad photo of her.

“Yeah, these are good,” you say.

“Let’s take a few more, then we can relax a bit,” she says. The camera display switches back to photo mode, and you look through; this time, your heart stops. The screen shows you that Minjeong has shed her top, and now, the camera focuses on her bare breasts, nipples erect in the cold air, water streaming down her chest. Her hourglass shape is all the more prominent now, and you wonder how it would feel to run your hands all over her wet body. You begin to lower the camera, but she shakes her head. “These are just for me. Please?”

“J-just for you?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Her poses grow more erotic. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms, grabs them with her hands, and leans over for you to capture a shot of her from the side with her back arched. Now you’re definitely hard, no question about it, but at least now there’s no way she could be mad at you for it. It’s her fault. She moves towards you, and you set the camera on the ground next to the pool.

“How’d they turn out?” she asks. Her arms reach around the back of your neck, and yours wrap around her waist.

“You’re evil,” you say into her neck before planting a few kisses there.

“Oh, how could you say that? It seems like you had a good time,” she says. Her hips grind forward against your cock; she wants you to know that she knows how hard she’s gotten you. “You know, to be really honest, Hosang, you’re the first guy I ever thought about while touching myself.”

Really?

“Why?”

“You’re an idiot- Oh, God,” she’s interrupted by moans as you kiss further down her neck. “I just like you, okay?

“Well I just like you, too. Always did,” you say.

“I hope so. Otherwise this could be kind of awkward,” she giggles. You withdraw from her neck to place a kiss on her temple, and finally, on her lips. She tastes so sweet, lips so soft, tongue so aggressive. Her hand grabs onto your hair and she forces your head to turn so she can deepen the kiss. Minjeong seems hungry, desperate. You sit back on the ledge with your high school crush in your lap, her legs around your waist. She’s got both hands on your face, and she observes you like some sort of specimen.

“What’s, uh, what’s up?” you say, eyebrows raised.

“Your face… As different as it is, it almost looks exactly the same as the face I fell for back then. And I think I’m falling for it again,” she says. You begin to speak, but she places a finger over your lips. “I know what you’re gonna say. Just don’t think about it right now. Don’t. Think. About anything.”

Between her words, she’s taking your hands in hers, and moving them to her bare chest. You swallow. Hard. She’s right. If only for tonight, for this weekend, for a week, you have to just let it go. Her breasts are soft, and she whimpers when you squeeze them. She giggles and moans through a toothy smile when you roll her nipples between your fingers. Minjeong is clay in your hands, melting under every single touch, and it’s your job to make this trip unforgettable for her, to mold her into shapes of pleasure she’s never felt before.

“You know there’s a sauna,” she whispers through gasps.

“Good idea,” you reply. Water falls from both of your bodies when you stand up with her still wrapped around you, clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree. A quick jog from the pool to the sauna, but the wind still manages to chill you both to the bone. The sauna, though, is comfortably warm. Minjeong in your lap again, you sit on the wooden bench and she devours your neck. Her tongue and breath are hot against your skin and the steam begins to make you sweat already. She stands and takes hold of your hand, beckoning you to follow suit; you stand close to her and she looks up to meet your eyes. Small hands make their way to your waistband.

“Can I?” she asks softly. You help her slide the trunks down your legs, and your cock springs out, painfully hard, smacking your stomach. Her hand wraps around it immediately, and she moves in to kiss you again. She moves her tongue slowly against yours and her hand works your length all the while; her delicate fingers find the precum dripping from your tip and spread it generously. Delicately, she kneels; cautiously, she licks your cock from the base to the tip before latching onto the head and giving gentle suction. She looks up at you with her deep brown eyes and you place your hands on her head. You’re gentle with her. Your fingers make their way through her hair, and you keep your hips as still as you can, so as not to overwhelm her. You feel the back of her throat suddenly, and a moan escapes your mouth briefly, before you slap your hand over it. Minjeong backs off and strokes you with her hand.

“Don’t… I want to hear you,” she says. You feel your cock twitch, and you let out a sigh. A soft moan when her strokes speed up. “Good…”

“What if someone-”

“If someone hears? They’ll leave. Don’t worry,” she says. She gives you a few more seconds of suction, tongue massaging your head, then stands back up. You switch places with her, only now, she casually strips her bottoms off and sits on the wooden bench. Her toned thighs spread apart slowly while you stand back to take her all in.

After all these years, there she is; imagine telling high school Hosang what’s happening right now. Forget moaning her name while I jerk off… She’s right there.

Beads of sweat roll down your face and body. Minjeong, too; she’s covered in dewdrops of her own. Somehow you think they must look better on her than they do on you. A deep breath, and you step towards her. Her chest rises and falls rapidly under your hands when you give her pert breasts some more attention. You’re on your knees, now, watching her face contort and listening to her voice catch in her throat. If she never wore a bra again, you’d surely be happy. Kisses planted down her body, from her sternum down her stomach, halting at her hipline. You take a moment to stroke her thighs softly with your fingertips, and they shudder. More kisses for her legs, from her ankles up her calves to her inner thighs. Her sweat is salty and sweet. How will the rest of her taste? You look at her again.

"What do you like?" you ask.

"I… I don't know."

"When you touch yourself, how do you do it?"

"That's embarrassing…"

"When you're using your hands, imagining they're mine, what do you do?"

"..."

"Show me, so I can do it for you." Minjeong’s eyes are half-lidded, lust-laden. When you look down at her perfect, trimmed pussy, it’s dripping; your words got to her. She takes hold of your right wrist and places your hand on her stomach, thumb on her clit.

“Slowly,” she whispers. You oblige, and slowly make circles on her clit, spreading her wetness over the sensitive nub. Her next move brings your left hand to her mouth. She sucks on your two middle fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. Wet enough now, she moves your hand, palm up, near her pussy, and nods. “Inside.” The walls of her pussy are so hot, so scorching hot, inch after inch engulfing your fingers. One curl of your fingers and she’s cursing, moaning, bucking her hips. Poor girl must be starving.

“Is that good for you, Minjeong?” you say. Your voice seems like it’s dropped an octave and slowed down about half a measure. It doesn’t matter; she can’t answer you, anyway. She’s busy stuttering out your name. Temptation gets the best of you and you move your thumb away. Minjeong whines, but it’s soon replaced by a near scream when your thumb is replaced by your tongue. As expected, she tastes incredible, some remnants of salt water from the pool, but overwhelmingly sweet underneath. She clenches around your fingers a bit.

“F- Oh my fucking-” Minjeong stutters. Her eyes roll back in her head. Her delicate fingers grip your hair, not so delicately. Rapid, shuddering breaths cause her toned stomach to rise and fall quickly, her arms and legs jerk, and the salty and sweet flavor floods your tongue. Unlatched from your hair, Minjeong’s hands grab your face and yank you up towards her face; as you stand, the tip of your cock grazes over her clit.

“Whoops,” she whispers. Her lips are warm and smooth when they lock onto yours. And you feel her hand creep down your abdomen. Your attempt to break the kiss is foiled with Minjeong’s arm around the back of your head, and her other hand moves up and down your shaft. She’s devious, smiling into the kiss as you fill her mouth with moans, tightly gripping your cock and twisting her hand with her up and down motions.

Kim Minjeong from high school is jerking me off. Kim Winter from Aespa is jerking me off.

It’s a mindfuck. She kneads the back of your neck and sucks on your tongue. You can’t fuck her in a public sauna… Can you?

“Minjeong…” you whisper against her cheek. She looks at you innocently. Like someone who isn’t driving you crazy.

“What?” she giggles.

“How about we go to your room? Could be bad if, you know, someone sees us,” you mumble.

“How about once here, and a few more times there?” she says with a wink. “It’s late, baby… No one will come up.”

‘Baby.’

Minjeong guides you towards her pussy with the hand that had never left your cock. Her legs rest on your shoulders, and you grip her pillowy soft thighs to brace yourself for impact, for entry. Her heat begins to swallow your length, quite easily due to how wet and aroused she is, and she makes the hottest noise she’s made the whole night. And now you’re hilted in Kim Minjeong in a hotel sauna with an unlocked door. Her nails scratch at your chest and shoulders frantically.

“God, so full…” she moans.

“You want me to fuck you now?” you put the sultry voice back on. She nods. “When you’re using your toys, imagining they’re me…”

“Please, Hosang, just fuck me,” she pleads. “However you want. However you need.” It’s all you need to hear, certainly. You pull out nearly all the way, and watch your cock disappear inside of her with a grunt. Your thumbs nearly touch as you wrap your hands around her small waist to pull her down around your shaft with every thrust. All inhibitions are gone, any restraints have been lifted; you’re slamming into her hard, and the both of you moan loudly enough for the reception desk to hear. Minjeong’s tight abs contract and relax under your hands, you look at her face to see her drooling with her eyes rolled back. Like, actually, really drooling.

“Fuck, babe… You’re really enjoying this, huh?” you say gruffly. You swipe your thumb over her chin and she leans down to suck on it instead. Lustful eyes meet your gaze and your thumb pops out of her lips.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” she says. A quick sigh to punctuate her sentence. “So many years…”

“Well-” you try to speak, but she clenches herself around you. “Fuck. I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have-”

“Pull out baby,” she sighs. “I want to swallow you.”

Regretfully, you withdraw from Minjeong’s tight hole, but the steam keeps your cock rather warm while she kneels down. After a lick from the base to the tip, she takes you all the way into her throat. She takes your hands and places them on her head, looking up at you sinfully. With fistfuls of her dark hair, you pull back, and thrust in again. She gags and coughs, but she never gives up, and soon, you’re shooting rope after rope, nearly convulsing in pleasure. She strokes you into her open mouth, wringing every drop out of your spent cock. When she’s satisfied, she swallows and stands up to kiss your neck and chest.

“How about… How about we go to the room?” she says.

“You want me to stay with you tonight?” you ask. She laughs a bit. Her laugh is fluttering and adorable, a sharp contrast with the noises she was making moments earlier.

“Of course.”

After getting dressed and gathering Minjeong’s things, you head upstairs. In the elevator, you stand behind her; she grinds back onto your groin and brings your hands to her chest. Floors fly by and the number on the small screen goes up as you massage her chest and her delicate moans get you painfully hard once again. She rushes in front of you to the room, giving you another view of those creamy, toned legs, and you do your best to catch up. Once inside, she sits on the bed in front of you and waits. Her hands travel slowly from her hips to her knees, and even slower she parts them with her hands to reveal the glistening skin peeking out from her bikini. Her breath hitches when you step forward and gaze down at her.

“I showed you what to do last time,” Minjeong whispers. “I want to see what you’ll do on your own.”

“No pressure, right?” you joke, and she smiles. Her thighs are soft and malleable in your hands, and her neck softer under your lips. You untie the bikini top and cast it to the side, then kiss further and further down her neck. Kisses travel down her neck, over her collarbones, down to her sternum. There’s still salt from the pool on her skin, and you lick towards her nipple before giving it a bite. Minjeong jumps slightly and closes her fists in your hair. Your mouth works on one nipple and your hand kneads the other breast, perfectly sized for your hand. After switching sides once or twice, you kiss her stomach. Her hands move to your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of her.

Minjeong’s legs are wide open. You slide your fingers into the waistband of the swimsuit and slowly drag the bottoms down. More kisses travel from her knees across her inner thighs and up to her hip bones. She’s still dripping for you and you drag your tongue upwards over her pussy slowly to savor her. You spit on your fingers and slip them inside of her easily.

“Ohhh my God-” she whispers and bucks her hips. “Go faster…”

“Mm, so impatient, Minjeong,” you reply. Your tongue returns to her clit and makes smooth circles. She tenses around your fingers when you curl them back towards you, her moans growing louder, grip on your hair growing stronger. Taking her by surprise, you withdraw your fingers and stand up. While her hands work automatically on pulling your swim trunks down, you take a moment to just gaze at her. Her ruffled, semi-wet hair, strands sticking to her forehead and swaying wildly as she kisses up your thighs. Her flushed, glistening skin, cheeks inflating and deflating with the waves of pleasure coursing up your torso as your length disappears into her mouth again. Her pretty shoulders and arms. Her nose buried in your stomach.

Fuck.

“You’re really good at that,” you moan. With a yelp Minjeong is scooped up into your arms and tossed, more or less, onto the pristine hotel bed. She pats the bed beside her, and you get the message. You lie back and let her mount you. She guides your tip to her entrance, and once in line, she slams her hips down aggressively. You’re content to let her ride. Her body moves in mesmerizing ways as she grinds on you, seeking the best angle for your cock to rub against all the right places. Just as soon as you begin thrusting into her, your phone starts ringing.

“Dammit, sorry, Minjeong,” you curse and remove the girl from your lap. Fucking spam call? Really? With the phone silenced, you turn around to see her lying back on the pillows.

Like an animal, you crawl towards her; you feel like one at least, with the way your cock is throbbing. She pulls her legs up for you, and you guide your tip towards her dripping center. The warm feeling envelops you again and you sigh, eyes closed. Your hands find her waist and keep her torso still while you begin to drive into her. You almost can’t even hear her whines anymore, her voice punctuated by each thrust, curses and iterations of your name following every other sound.

“-nside me,” Minjeong’s voice fades in as your stupor breaks a bit. You lean forward and make a confused expression. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me…”

And something about the way she says it just obliterates any second thoughts you may or may not have had. Her high, airy voice, begging for such an impure action, intensifies the warm, wet pleasure surrounding your cock. It only gets warmer and wetter as your cum dumps into Minjeong, deeper and deeper inside of her, coating your shaft, dribbling out onto the sheets. Your thrusts slow down, but your dick stays inside; you’re tired. You wrap your arms around her waist, and lie down gently on top of her with your face in her neck. She administers gentle scratches to your scalp.

“You came so much, Hosang,” she whispers. Her legs settle around your back.

“Drained all my energy,” you laugh weakly.

“You’re heavy. Can we switch?” she says. So you do; you roll onto your back. Your cock slips out in the meantime, and you both laugh about it. She fits in your arms like she was made for them.

For a long while you lie there. The cold air condition and the crisp sheets are a welcome contrast to your steaming hot skin and the panting, sweating furnace lying on top of you. Minjeong painstakingly brings her hand to your cheek and kisses the other with soft lips. A slow blink. A thought in your mind.

Is this what it feels like?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. She knows.

“How do you feel about me?” you reply. Her expression is mixed.

“How do I feel… I feel like there’s a reason we ended up on this trip together,” she answers. Her body rises as you take a deep breath. “I mean I feel like something brought us together.”

“What do you want to do about it?” you ask.

“I want to find out why. There must be a reason this happened, you know?” she says. A small yawn. “Like… There must be something waiting at the end of a journey we can take together to find out. Or something.”

Together? A journey?

“Think it might be time for you to go to sleep,” you whisper. Her baby hairs stick to your face when you kiss her temple. The sheets are smooth and cool when you pull them up over Minjeong’s body and yours. She falls asleep quickly. You don’t. You’re thinking about IFR plans and what to say to her in the morning. Your fingers trace along the smooth skin of her hips and lower back for a while. The softness is comforting. And you fall asleep.

Is this part gonna go in the blog post?

#aespa fanfic #winter x male reader #aespa x reader #aespa x male reader #aespa smut #winter smut #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏

(𝑺𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

⚠️MDNI. 18+ ADULTS ONLY⚠️

🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler

Relationship: Sebastian Michaelis/CielsCousin!Reader

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis; Reader

Summary: You visit your dear cousins manor in the countryside to get a well deserved break from the humdrum exhaustion of the city after an illness. What you do not expect from your quaint retreat is the start of an exhilarating illicit affair with the butler. But taboos mean nothing when lust love transcends human norm.

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut; Sex; Vaginal Sex; Eventual Smut; Neck Kissing; Kissing; Gentle Kissing; Surprise Kissing; Making Out; Implied Sexual Content; Phantomhive manor; Reader-Insert; Victorian

A/N: not beta read. We die like men.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1: 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔲𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔯; ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

“My lady,” you hear a soft voice calling you, “My lady, you must wake up, it is morning.” You open your eyes. The sheets around you are soft, freshly laundered. Your head sinks into the large white pillow, and you take a deep breath that turns into a yawn and turn over to go back to a more comfortable position. But the voice rings out again. “Now, that won’t do at all...” You twist your neck toward the direction of the voice. The sound in meats your ears like the gentle beat of a raven’s wing. Shielding your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, you squinted to see a dark black figure stood before the opened curtains around your bed.

Sebastian Michaelis; the imposing shadowy butler of your cousin, Ciel Phantomhive who’s estate you were staying at while you visited the countryside after your illness. This man’s efficiency left you in awe. Managing an entire household with three other servants, an old butler, and a young master who was still very much a child. His roles extended far beyond that of an ordinary butler, to that of baker, chef, driver and even a pseudo parent. Additionally, with his smooth, silky, jet-black hair and contrasting pale skin he looked rather like a vampire – one from the cheap romance novellas you would pick up from the bookstore to keep yourself entertained. You definitely wouldn’t mind him sinking his teeth into your neck. You had been inappropriately lusting after the man ever since he greeted you into the Phantomhive manor. He was gentle and helpful, and you had found yourself yearning for the feel of his hands upon your skin. Sebastian seemed to sense your longing and took it upon himself to torment you with his sly touches at every opportune moment. He took your hand to help you down stairs, tied your shoelace if he thought it wasn’t done up well enough kneeling in front of you, he even lifted you and took you to bed one night when you were feeling especially tired from the day’s activities. You had been mortified to have been treated in such a manner but when he had leaned down and kissed your ear whispering a soft goodnight you exploded on the inside. Ever since then, you had been thinking the lewdest thoughts about the man- who would often catch you staring at his back and would wink at you and laugh when you turned red. And often your fingers would slip between your thighs, to rub over your mound below in an attempt to quell the aching need.

“Your maid seems to have caught a slight cold my lady.” Sebastian speaks drawing you back to the present. He smiles. “I hope you don’t mind me standing in for her this morning. I wouldn’t want you to exert yourself so soon after having recovered from one illness.” His eyes crinkle and he tilts his head while his smile grows wider.

For a moment, you stare at him and then understand the implications of his words. Still not fully awake you muster up the energy to ask, “But, who is to help me with my dressing?”

“I’m pretty sure you will find me capable enough, my lady.” He says, still smiling. You sit up quickly. Heart pounding in your chest.

“Sebastian!” you expel in admonishment “Surely that would not be proper!”

Sebastian prowls over to the the edge of the bed and leaning down, says, “Would it be as improper as this my lady?” He plants those smooth pale lips onto yours. They burn hot against your cool pink ones. You feel his hand caressing your cheek. Your heart beats hard in your chest and you sit rigidly unable to process what is happening around you. Is Sebastian really kissing you? Are his lips truly on yours?

But before you can fully digest what happened, he moves away. “Are you awake now my lady?” he asks. You touch your lips feeling incomplete without his warmth and nod. “Good.” He says. “I want you to be awake for this.” He smoothly takes off his black coat and lays it down on a chair, then his vest, then as he unbuttons his shirt he climbs onto the bed. “Impropriety has been a recurring thought in your mind, has it not my lady?” he says to you. He kneels down in front of you. You feel your heart beat – loud enough for the whole mansion to hear.

“Wh– whatever do you mean, Sebastian?” You feign ignorance, trying to ignore the loud pounding of your heart.

“Don’t be coy my lady.” He smirks, his body almost enveloping you on the bed and playing with the string on the neck of your nightgown. He pulls it – untying the bow that your maid had made the night before. So smooth. His movements flow like a stream of water. Almost inhuman. You look into his eyes knowing that however improper it may be, you wanted the man. You wanted him in the basest way that a human may want a human. He cups your cheek in his hand and you can’t help yourself, you move forward to feel his burning lips against your own once again. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and wraps his arm around your torso pulling you closer. You pull off his already unbuttoned shirt. The heat of his body penetrating your thin nightgown. He presses his body against yours, kissing you, a hunger in his movements like no other you knew. His fingers reach your breast and he kneads it roughly. His tongue seeks entrance at your mouth. You open up readily, moaning softly at his touch. He tastes spicy yet at the same time sweet; it reminds you of chocolate a rare taste for such a rare man. Wanton moans drip from your throat and you just want more and more. Your head feels heavy—intoxicated.

You close your eyes and pull him closer. He’s lean, yet you can feel hard muscle under the skin. Sebastian holds the bottom of your nightgown and looks at you with heavy lidded eyes. “Are you sure about this my lady?” For a moment you think you see them flash a dangerous red but shake it off seeing them their regular brown.

You close your eyes and nod, biting your lower lip. It is what you want. Damn all the restrictions of society. Damn it all. It was your body and here was a man who made it writhe and respond on its own accord – without your control. You wanted him to feel you, touch you, make love to you. And you knew, he would appreciate you to the fullest – you would bloom like a flower beneath his touch.

A/N: This was originally posted on AO3 back in 2017. Since then much time has passed and i wasn't feeling the motivation to continue this series, but now with this resurgence of Kuro I would like to take this series up again. I am posting it here now, with changes made and small edits. Just to make it a better read while still keeping my original story intact. I hope you've enjoyed. As always, Likes and Reblogs are much appreciated and Comments will earn you kisses.

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