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spaceman-earthgirl · 3 years

Text

Kara is steadfastly not looking at Lena as she greets her family, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t aware of Lena in the room, her heartbeat loud and fast, filling Kara’s ears.

She knows, once she sees Lena, there will be nothing to stop her crossing the room and sweeping her up in her embrace, holding her tight and vowing to never let her go again.

But her friends deserve a hello, and she wants it too.

J’onn’s arms are strong, making her feel safe and protected as he hugs her.

She’s surprised by the amount of emotion there is in Brainy’s voice when he speaks, and she hugs him close as their bodies collide.

Nia holds her so close, fingers curling into her suit to hold her as tight as possible as Kara holds her back, smiling into the hug, so happy to see her, to see them all.

And then there’s Lena.

The way Lena’s lip quivers, the way tears shine bright in Lena’s eyes, nearly breaks Kara’s heart when she finally turns to her.

She did that, she hurt Lena once again.

Lena steps forward, arms opening at the same time as Kara’s do and then their bodies are crashing together, Kara’s arms holding her as tight as she can without hurting her.

Kara breathes in, smells Lena’s perfume and shampoo mixed with something sweet that Kara’s never been able to identify, but it’s what one of Lena’s shirts had smelled like that she’d left at Kara’s apartment, one Kara had worn until it didn’t smell like her anymore.

She has to choke back a sob as emotions swell in her chest, a confusing tangle of fear and hope and love that has Kara pressing her face into Lena’s neck for a moment as she tries to center herself, get her emotions back in check.

“It’s only because you’re on the team that I’m here,” Kara manages to get out, something Alex had told her, something Alex had confessed after, tears in her eyes and a shake in Alex’s body when her sister had told her they could’ve gotten Kara back sooner, how Alex had chosen to save thousands of people but Lena fought to save her instead.

Fear and hope had collided in Kara’s chest then, too, because she’d made that choice with Mon-El, sent him away, to save Earth. Kara’s not sure she could’ve made that same decision if it had been Lena in his place, and that scares her.

Lena gasps at the words, and all Kara can do is hold her as she feels Lena’s arms tighten around her.

And then all too soon, Lena is pulling away but Kara can’t let go, not yet. Her hands slip over Lena’s biceps, down her forearms to grip her hands. She squeezes Lena’s hands, Lena smiling at the gesture, and something clicks in Kara’s chest.

Kara swallows, tilting forward before she even realises it, drawn to Lena, eyes caught on her smile.

Lena freezes, and it’s that motion, or lack of motion, that stops Kara, makes her realise what she’s doing, what she was about to do.

Her eyes flash up to Lena’s, confusion now swimming in wide green eyes as she remains frozen on the spot.

She was about to kiss her best friend, her very platonic best friend, and even if her feelings for said best friends certainly aren’t platonic, she still knows you’re not meant to kiss your best friend.

(You’re not meant to fall in love with them either but that’s another issue).

Kara glances to the right when movement draws her attention and now Kara feels frozen too as she spots Alex, glancing between them, an all to knowing look on her face.

That’s not good, because if Alex knows, knows what she’s thinking, knows what she was about to do, that means Lena might too, and that’s altogether another scary thought.

Her father stepping into the room breaks the moment, saves Kara from having to say or do anything and Kara feels relief course through her body, both because it means she doesn’t have to deal with this right now and because he’s actually here, alive, it wasn’t a dream. The relief loosens her limbs, lets her move once again as she crosses the room to hug him, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as she does.

She can feel two particular sets of eyes burning a hole in her back, like they’re the ones with heat vision, but Kara ignores them, hardly even pays attention to what is being said as she points to the balcony.

“I’m just going to…” she doesn’t even finish her sentence as she walks off. It’s dark out, so she doesn’t have the excuse of wanting to get some sun as she steps on to the balcony, but it gives her a moment to breathe.

She focuses on the sounds around her, the street below, cars honking, people laughing, the noise of the city filling her mind, leaving little room for anything else.

“Kara?”

Kara knew someone would follow her, but she jumps at the intrusion, so focused on the rest of National City the noise from the tower had gotten lost in it.

Alex steps in close, arm going through Kara’s as she leans into her sister’s side, head falling to rest on Kara’s shoulder.

Kara sighs, leans into Alex’s touch, knows her sister needs this contact just as much as she does.

They’re silent for a while, and Kara’s starting to wonder if Alex will actually say something when she finally speaks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kara swallows. She knows exactly what Alex is talking about. “Talk about what?” she asks anyway.

“About how you nearly kissed Lena.”

Alex’s words are quiet, soft, like she knows how Kara will react, but that doesn’t stop Kara’s intake of breath and the sudden desire to just leap from the balcony.

Alex’s arm tightens around hers, like she knows exactly what Kara is thinking.

“Alex-“ Kara starts, the name half choked out, but Alex interrupts.

“I know,” Alex soothes, lifting her head so she can look at Kara. “I know.”

“Do you...do you think she noticed?” Kara asks. She’s not sure why she’s so scared when she wants nothing more than to pull Lena back into her arms and hold on forever. Maybe it’s because she’s hurt her so much already, or maybe it’s because she’s already lost her so many times and if she truly opens her heart to Lena and she loses her again, it will destroy her.

“She did,” Alex nods.

Kara presses her lips together and wills herself not to cry as she looks back over the city.

“Hey,” Alex says, hand against Kara’s cheek, bringing them face to face again. “She wants that too, okay? I was with her while you were gone, I saw how much she cares about you, I saw that she’d do anything to get you back. Trust me. You two have been through so much and you deserve to be happy. You don’t have to talk to her now, but you should when you’re ready. She’ll understand.”

“But-“

“I promise,” Alex says, her voice strong. Kara believes her. “She’ll wait as long as you need her to.”

Kara lets the words settle over her. The air is cold but she fights away the chill, focuses on the warmth of Alex’s body instead, focuses on her heartbeat to keep her grounded.

“I love her,” Kara whispers after a long moment. She glances back inside as she says it, heart getting caught in her throat when she sees Lena watching them. Lena quickly turns, feigns doing something on the computer, but the jump in her heart says she knows she’s been caught.

Alex doesn’t seem surprised by the admission. Kara wonders how long she’s known.

“And she loves you too,” Alex says with a smile and a kiss to Kara’s temple.

Kara lets the words wash over her, something warm settling in her chest as her sister gives her arm one last squeeze and leaves.

Kara turns and watches her go, hears the anxious, “Is she okay?” Lena quietly asks Alex as she walks by.

“I think so,” Alex says and Kara’s not sure if that’s true as she shivers, the cold air filling her lungs and reminding her too much of the Phantom Zone that she breathes out, trying to focus on the sounds of the city again to push it all away.

She’s about to go back inside, see if she can’t get another platonic hug from Lena because that’s the warmest she’s felt since she returned, when a voice behind her startles her again.

“Mind if I join you?”

It’s hesitant, unsure, Lena twisting her fingers together as she says it.

“Please,” Kara says, sounding a touch too desperate as she nods to the space beside her.

Lena steps in close, but not quiet touching as they stand side by side, her hands falling to rest on the rail beside Kara’s.

“I missed you,” Lena says into the silence, quiet and honest.

“I missed you, too,” Kara replies, eyes darting sideways. Lena’s face is half shadowed in the dark, but achingly beautiful in the dim lights of the city.

She glances back out over the city, wonders if Lena will bring up what happened. Or what almost happened.

But she remains silent, and Kara realises that Lena is just going to let it go, let Kara do things in her own time, when she’s ready.

Kara shifts her hand closer to Lena’s on the railing, fingers brushing slightly. She almost stops there, almost pretends it’s an accident but the little sigh Lena lets out at the contact has Kara giving up any pretence as she threads her fingers through Lena’s.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” Lena swallows. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if-” She cuts herself off, the words getting caught in her throat, sounding close to tears again. Kara gives her hand a squeeze, and then realises that’s not enough so she turns, pulling Lena into a hug once more.

Lena sags against her, feels the shake of Lena’s body as Kara holds her.

“I’m here,” Kara promises, pressing a kiss to Lena’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Lena asks, pulling away. She’s not crying but tears are shimmering in her eyes and she hates once again that she’s hurt Lena.

“I promise.”

They stay like that for a long moment, in each others space. Kara uses a great deal of self control not to glance down at red lips again.

It’s Lena that steps away first, again. Kara almost chases the contact but she stops herself this time.

“You didn’t get any of the cake before, and I heard a rumour that it’s your favourite.”

Kara’s eyes light up. “Is there any left?”

Lena laughs, eyes lighter than they have been all evening and something in Kara’s chest settles, feels almost normal, like it hasn’t in a long time.

“Duh, no one gets between Kara Danvers and food.”

Kara pokes out her tongue, which Lena responds to with a poke in her side and everything just feels right.

“Hey,” Kara says, catching Lena’s hand as she’s about to walk inside. Kara’s not sure if it’s because Lena looks so beautiful or if it’s because she wants no more secrets between them or she just doesn’t want to wait anymore but the words tumble from her lips with none of her previous fear. “I love you.”

Lena’s sharp intake of breath says she got Kara’s intended meaning.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Kara continues. “Not yet, or ever, but I want you to know.”

This time it’s Lena who’s leaning forward, crowding into Kara’s space. Kara doesn’t miss the way Lena’s eyes fall to her mouth, in a complete role reversal from before.

Kara is the one that crosses the final distance, tilts her head to capture Lena’s lips in her own.

Despite knowing it’s about to happen, Kara still gasps when their mouths meet, heat flooding through Kara as Lena’s fingers tangle in her hair, hold her close as their lips move together.

“I love you, too,” Lena says into the kiss, but the shock of the words are enough to make Kara pull away.

“You do?” Kara breathes, voice filled with awe.

Lena looks slightly dazed, her lip stick smudged and it makes it very hard not to kiss her again.

“I do. I have for a long time. Even when...” Lena trails off, Kara knowing exactly when Lena was referring to, something they still need to talk about.

“Me too,” Kara says, swallowing down the emotion building in her chest. She hadn’t realised, all this time, Lena had felt the same way.

She’s about to lean in, to kiss Lena again, because Lena’s lips are so soft and she wants to show Lena exactly how she feels about, but voices inside pull her attention away.

“Are you thinking about cake?” Lena asks, misinterpreting her distraction.

“No,” Kara smiles. “Nia is excitedly telling Alex that we just kissed.”

“Oh,” Lena says, cheeks going red. Kara’s not sure if it’s the word ‘kiss’ or the fact that they’ve been caught that causes it though. Lena swallows. “Do you want to go and get some cake?” Lena asks as she glances inside, sees they’re being watched, but she makes no move to pull away this time.

Kara shakes her head. “No.”

“Are you okay?” Lena asks, jokingly bringing a hand to her forehead as her attention returns to Kara. “I’ve never heard of Supergirl passing up cake before.”

Kara rolls her eyes with a shrug. “Some things are better than cake.”

“Oh really?” Lena asks, a smile playing on her lips.

Kara winds her arms around Lena’s neck, tilts forward, her lips brushing Lena’s when she speaks. “Really.”

A call from Alex pulls them apart not long later and Kara turns to see her sister’s nose scrunched up in disgust as she looks at them, but she can also tell Alex is trying not to smile.

“Are we allowed to eat this cake yet? I’m starving.”

Kara smiles as she reaches down to thread her fingers through Lena’s hand, tugs her towards the door.

There are knowing, and very amused, looks when they return inside, but they all look happy.

Kara’s happy too, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel again.

It’s her father’s comment that makes her laugh again as they’re all eating cake, Kara managing with just one hand because she’s not ready to let Lena go yet.

“Is Lena not your wife?”

Kara presses her face into Lena’s shoulder, cheeks red when Alex’s response is, “not yet.”

Can also be found on ao3

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #danvers sisters #supercorp fanfic #I wrote another one #it's different I promise

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

"𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒."

izuku midoriya | friends older brother!izuku + college student!reader + f!reader + squirting + size kink + more! minors dni! does this count? as dark content?

— 2.4k words

"It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

“[Y/N?]”

“Uh, hey Izuku!” You smile, grip tightening around the strap to your bag. Izuku fills the doorway, broad shoulders kissing both sides of the frame, and you can’t help but feel minuscule in comparison. “Kota around?”

Izuku shakes his head, peering over his shoulder for a second before returning his attention to you with a click of his tongue. "Uh, no I think he's out with Eri. They should be back soon though...it's been a few hours."

"Shit," you curse under your breath. Your friend's older brother smiles in apology, biceps straining under his white tee.

"You need something?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing your eyes back onto his, instead of the broad chest presented at eye-level. "Just my precalc book."

Izuku waits a second, thinking, before his palm claps against the doorframe and he's walking deeper into the house. "Come on in, then! I'm sure he won't mind."

You step into the house after him, and it's...weird. Weird being with your Kota's older brother without Kota there, because despite the thousands of times you've been in your best friend's house and as well as you know the greenette, you and Izuku have never been alone.

"Find it?"

You've been rummaging through Kota's room for a solid ten minutes and somehow still empty-handed, moving slowly in fear you'll see something you can't unsee. And hey, with Kota and Eri dating, anything's possible.

"No," you sigh, ready to give up rather than find a strap-on. "It's fine. I can just come to get it tomorrow or something."

"How soon do you need it?" The greenette asks, his forearms leaning against his younger brother's dresser. You take a seat on Kota's comforter instead, silently hoping you'll find your book by accidentally breaking your tailbone against the damn thing; you're a little disappointed when all your ass comes in contact with is a plush mattress.

"Like, tonight," you grieve, knowing that tomorrow morning, your math grade will suffer severely. "'S fine though. There's always another test."

Izuku snorts at that, crossing the room to take a seat next to you. The bed whines under his weight but doesn't collapse, and you feel a little bad to say you're surprised. Voice full of reminiscence, he sighs, "Ah, the college days."

You giggle, "You act like they're lightyears behind you."

"They might as well be," the greenette shrugs, before reaching behind your waist to steal a pillow. "Couldn't tell you a thing I learned."

You shrug trying to remember the last time you’ve felt prepared for a test, “Neither can I.”

Izuku chuckles and nods, though you’re convinced it’s because he has nothing to say. An awkward silence takes possession of the room by the neck, and you shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say that could give you an excuse to leave, or at least redirect his strange yet heavy gaze. As Izuku licks his lips, you notice how close you two actually are, as he's big to the point where your shoulders almost brush, but not quite.

"How um, hows your boyfriend?"

You scoff at that, but you suppose it's been a while since you and the greenette have talked one on one—and the last time you had, you weren't single.

"Oh uh, he's fine, I guess," you brush it off with a shrug and a wave, cringing at the thought of how that ended. "I don't know. We broke up a while ago, so."

"Oh sorry!" Izuku flushes and throws a hand over his mouth, and you giggle.

"You're fine. He was an asshole anyway," you chuck a laugh, but it's not really that funny. Frankly, he's left too many emotional scars to count, along with the ones healing from past exes. "I...don't have a good reputation when it comes to picking boyfriends."

“So, I’ve heard—no offense,” he says sheepishly, though you don't blame him. You've definitely had a few surprise visits caused by a nasty break-up or two, knowing this is the place you'll probably find both of your best friends hiding out. When Izuku speaks again, it’s borderline awkward as his eyes dart around the room, cheeks puffed and lips pursed in apprehension. “Found...anyone new?”

You frown, “Anyone new.”

“Yeah!” Izuku exclaims, and it’s almost encouraging. “Like a new boyfriend.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Um, no. Like I said, I don’t have much luck with that type of stuff.”

Izuku snorts, rolling his eyes before he’s adjusting himself to lay on the pillow, half of his body upright. “I bet you do. You might not realize it, but you do.”

Now it’s your turn to snort and roll your eyes, leaning back on your hands with a huff. "You're just being nice, Izuku."

"No, seriously!" He props himself higher so you can see he really is serious, evergreen eyes locked and deadset, "Like—okay, and this might be a TMI or something, but how do they, y'know, and then be dicks, y'know?"

"They don't."

"They don't...what?"

"They don't...make me cum," you heave with great depression, despite the seemingly surface-level complaint. With wrists tightening around your ankles, you hate uncomfortably in the silence, and watch Izuku's mouth open and close, before it opens and closes again.

"Like...never?"

"No." You give him a weird look.

"But what about your last boyfriend? I thought he—"

"I don't know what you're looking for, Izuku," you chuckle, shaking your head. The greenette seems more pained than he is shocked, eyes wide with a big fat pout in place of a neutral face. "It's not like I haven't had an orgasm before. Just...not with someone else."

"That's not the same!" Izuku defends, slowly becoming more animated than you've ever seen him. "It's like...more passionate with another person, you know? And that makes everything a whole lot hotter."

"Thanks," you huff, mood souring more than it already has. Izuku's mouth stills once he realizes what he's essentially bragging, guilt clouding his face. As you exhale out of your nose, you can't escape feeling bad for snapping. "Look. I'm perfectly fine with being the only person to be able to make myself cum. It's not that deep."

"You sound like you expect no one to be able to," Izuku snorts with a raised eyebrow, shoulders bumping against yours. "You've just...had bad boyfriend luck. That doesn't mean no one's capable of doing it."

"Well," you click your tongue bitterly, because you've heard all of this before, and you're utterly tired of hearing it. "They've been able to make all their exes orgasm. And it's not like it even matters, relationships aren't abou—"

"I could do it."

"I—" you blink, shaking your head at the pure audacity of his request? Suggestion? Comment? Whatever the fuck. "Excuse me?"

"I—wait, listen," Izuku rushes like you're getting ready to book it the fuck out of there, sitting upright so his body is turned to yours. "You're...it's...I've been told I'm good with my fingers, right?"

And what a way to start a story.

"Izuku, in the nicest way, every guy is like this," you scoff, "He thinks he's all that just because a chick or two said you made her feel really good. I don't need to fake another orgasm."

"You won't have to," Izuku purrs cockily, leaning forwards on his hands and making you wonder where all of this is coming from. "Let's play a game of simon says, yeah?"

"Simon—" your chest collapses with a giggle of pure disbelief, "I'm not that much younger than you, you know."

"I wouldn't be offering if you were," the greenette reasons, eyes growing dark slowly, if any. "Yes or no?"

"What's the catch?" You bargain and Izuku huffs a laugh. You can feel it on your face.

"No catch, Pretty," he hums, and you can feel the vibrations in your fingers. "It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

You gulp as Izuku lifts a hand—and a very large one, at that—and it's jagged and rough with scars and bulky knuckles. His free hand makes you grab his wrist and you're fingertips barely touch, but you’re pulling his hand south by your own volition.

“Gotta take your pants off first,” he chuckles, and you flush red. That would be helpful, yes.

It doesn't take long before they're off though, flung towards a corner somewhere—and this is when you realize that maybe, you shouldn't do this on Kota's bed.

"Izuku maybe we shoul—"

But before you can say anything else, he's pushing your panties to the side and shoving both fingers into you at once, eyebrows folding as he groans under his breath from the sensation.

"So wet already? Clearly, someone likes this more than they let on."

"I—what the fuck happened to simon says!" You yelp, but his fingers don't move. Izuku just beams like the deceptive asshole he is.

"Game starts now," is all he says, and you're huffing, propping yourself up on your elbows. Izuku's fingers might as well have knocked the wind out of you, lungs struggling to find room to breathe as he curls his fingers to tap directly onto your g-spot with worrying precision.

"Simon says um, move please," you grunt out. Izuku's fingers stay still, and you frown, kicking him in the thigh. "Hey, I sai—"

"You gotta be more specific than that, Pretty,” he says with a grin. You snarl. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I..." you start, but it's fucking embarrassing, and you know Izuku feels you twitch around him when you say: "Can you um, fuck me with your fingers."

He doesn't move.

"Simon says fuck me with your fingers, asshole," you grunt with narrowed eyes, though they widen when he starts to pump his fingers in and out, chuckling when you shiver from the dexterity.

Except, his fingers move painfully slow, and you find yourself gritting your teeth at the speed when he doesn't make an effort to go any faster. You click your tongue—he's really going to make you request everything, isn't he?

"Simon says faster," you growl with a challenge burning in your eyes, and Izuku meets them with equal fire, fingers finally forgetting their torturous pace for a much quicker one. Finally.

"Fuck! Simo—simon says right t-there," your legs spread wider and Izuku makes more room for himself in between. He hums with dark eyes as you whimper and whine his name, writhing in his younger brother's sheets like they belong to him—like you belong to him.

"I wanna touch you all the time, you know," Izuku grunts before cursing at the sight of your wetness around his fingers. "Make you feel good, make you mine. I don't think Kota would approve, though."

"We don—" you wheeze and he places a hand next to your head, towering over you. The angle only gets better, your hands digging into the sheets as Izuku's fingers curl just right. "We don't have to tell him."

Izuku chuckles at that, chest rumbling as he leans in closer to the point where your noses nearly touch. "You dirty fucking girl."

You moan at that, hips bucking into his hand. You're so close and yet you need more, something else to push you over the edge for good. With a whimper behind a bitten lip, you say, "S-Simon says rub my clit."

Izuku's thumb falls upon your clit and you squeal from the amount of initial pressure, thighs jolting from the white-hot waves that pump through your bloodstream as his thumb moves in small, ever-quickening circles that have you gripping for Kota's comforter for dear life.

"Iz—Izuku I'm gonna—g-gonna cum," you pant, and he's ripping his hands away before you can even reach a hint of the edge. You glare at him out of pure and utter betrayal, and he beams.

"Simon didn't say, did he?"

Your mouth flies open before your brain has time to process it all, "Simon says make me cum, p-please, I need to—fuck!"

Izuku's stuffing you full with his fingers in an instant and his thumb returns to its rightful place.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, Pretty?" His hands somehow find the energy to speed up to the point where the clap of his palm against your pussy fills the room, slowly being replaced by a lewd squelch as you tighten around him. He chuckles when all you can do is whimper, grappling for his big shoulders as he says, "Oh, yes she is. So fucking close I can feel it."

You let out a broken moan and in a blink you're squirting, body buzzing as you make a big wet mess of Kota's sheets. It doesn't even register how screwed you two are because you're too busy wading waist-deep in the sea of Izuku's eyes, chest heaving in time with his as he gives you a look of pure awe. Not at what you've done, per se, but at you, and that's when you understand it—the passion.

"We should uh, probably clean up," Izuku flushes as he chuckles, cheeks pressing into the crescents of his face, and you find yourself smiling along with him. With a final click, he pulls his fingers out, gesturing to a circular wet spot on his now see-through shirt. "You made quite a mess."

Fuck the passion.

You shove your fists into his chest and Izuku laughs, pushing your hands away with his one dry free hand, wiping the wet one on Kota's sheets.

"Izuku!" You gasp, looking at the new and improved addition to your mess. The greenette shrugs.

"What? We're going to have to clean it anyway," he shrugs before assuming the dry spot to your right and nestling his forearms in the pillow to peck you on the forehead. Then he freezes.

"I uh...am I allowed to do that?"

You roll your eyes, grabbing him by his squirt-soaked shirt to pull him into a kiss. Izuku hums at that, suppressing the urge to smile as his big hands find their way to your waist. He's an annoyingly good kisser

"No, you're not," you say with swollen lips once you pull away. Izuku grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his eyes flutter to yours for a moment, before they're staring into your soul again.

"I like you," he boldly states, albeit quietly, like he's talking to your eyes and nothing else. "Like, a lot."

"I—" You start, but you're interrupted by a click of a lock and the sound of the front door opening. Shit.

"Oi! We're home, Izuku!"

#— 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 #deku smut #izuku smut #midoriya smut #bnha smut #bnha imagines

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thewayshedreamed · 3 years

Note

Nessian fluff #9 - you took all the pillows so I’m using you as one

Balance has been restored with this sweet Nessian fluff. You've done the world a great service, @moodymelanist 💕

819 words.

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"If we're watching a movie, we need snacks."

Cassian couldn't argue with that logic. The Cauldron had blessed him in the form of cancelled plans, meaning Rhys, Feyre, Morrigan, and Azriel had all fucked off for the evening. The idea of spending time alone with Nesta, getting to know her and trying to put a name to this thing between them, was something he doubted he could have managed on purpose.

"I could go for snacks," he responded, assessing the small loveseat that took up half of Nesta's living room. The size of her place made him feel like he ate cake in Wonderland and was without the appropriate counter-snack to return to normal.

"Any requests?"

"Nah, whatever you're having is fine," he called after her. "Hey— where do you keep your blankets?"

A long pause was her response, probably weighing his question on some inherent creep scale most women possessed. His breaths came a little easier when she replied.

"They're in the ottoman!"

Cassian snapped into action, laying each of them in a pallet on her floor. At least he could stretch out fully rather than cramming onto the couch. No one would ever accuse him of not making himself at home.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nesta asked, startling him in his concentration. Her tone was amused rather than accusatory.

"I won't fit on your kid furniture." He tossed a couple of her throw pillows on the blankets.

She blessed him with her soft laughter. "My furniture is average. It's not my fault that your limbs are out of control."

Cassian barked a laugh and launched a pillow toward her. With impressive speed, Nesta rotated her body to shield the large bowl of popcorn and her bag of M&Ms as if she held an infant.

"If you make me spill, you're eating yours off the floor."

He rolled his eyes. Lowering himself onto his back, he fluffed the pillows and selected a movie. It wasn't until Nesta spoke again that he realized she remained standing.

"I should have split this into two bowls. I originally thought we would be on the couch, but—"

"Nesta, sit your ass down here."

She blinked those vibrant blue eyes, and her eyelids lowered into a glare. Fuck, she was pretty. It made his mouth dry up a little. Okay, it made his mouth dry up a lot.

"Maybe I'll sit on the couch and share nothing with you."

Cassian's eyes rounded in mock outrage, and the evidence of a smirk betrayed Nesta's serious expression.

"That doesn't seem fair. Look, Sweetheart, just come sit until the snacks run out. You could be on the couch by the end of the opening scene if we try hard enough."

Nesta debated his offer. When he made a show of scooting over a bit, she walked over and lowered herself on crossed legs. She placed the bowl between their hips and held the large bag of M&Ms in her lap. Once settled, she offered him a small smile over her shoulder before turning back to the movie.

It was best to keep his hands occupied, so he promptly dove into the popcorn. After a couple of handfuls, he had the craving for something sweet and mindlessly reached over Nesta's leg for a handful of candied chocolate.

The sharp sting of her fingers over the back of his palm snapped his attention away from the movie.

"If I was sharing these, they would be in the middle."

"You could have just told me these were off-limits!"

Cassian was all too aware of his forearm resting on Nesta's thigh. Her eyes were locked in the same place, looking as conflicted as he felt by the contact. Her hand brushed his when she reached for more, but she didn't push him away.

"Nes, your hands are cold," he murmured. It took everything in him not to reach for it.

"Someone took all my blankets." Her gaze landed on his again, and he felt the force of it down to his toes. He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued. "And all my pillows, for that matter."

Nesta moved their snacks off to the side, scooting her hips closer. Cassian wasn't sure what she was doing, but he was barely breathing. She lowered her body next to his, using his bicep to cradle her head. He was afraid to move.

"Since you took them all, I'll use you instead."

They lay like that for the duration of the movie and into the credits. Cassian glanced down to see Nesta's delicate lashes against her cheeks and risked curling his arm around her shoulder to shield her from the chill. He froze when she began to stir, only relaxing when she buried her face in his chest.

Clearly, he made for a rather good pillow.

Send me an ask! • Question? Send me a message! • More? My Masterlist

#nessian #nessian au #nessian fluff #nesta x cassian #follower celebration #800 followers #twsd writes #twsd fics #thewayshedreamed #moodymelanist

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

Text

george weasley smut alphabet

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: at this point i don’t even know what to write, seggsy things

a/n: that took 3 days holy shit

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

ok molly taught him to be respectful alright, always treat your lady well. kisses, showering, praise, love, affection, cuddles. the whole nine yards, not one step left behind.

“c’mon, dove, y’gotta get up. please, f’me?” the boy slightly-slurred, pulling up your hair slightly damp from sweat, grasping it all into double french braids. showering you, meanwhile showing you immense praise and affection; kissing from your ankle points all the way to the apple of your cheeks, and dressing you in the process.

“mhmm, don’t wanna.” you proceeded to mumble, your body begging you to sleep and rest; feeling immense of exhaustion from previous rounds. finishing the braid in your hair, the red head picked you up and placed you onto the red-plaid comforter of the bed.

your body starting to meld with the mattress, and breathing becoming heavier almost delving your subconscious into the realm of sleep; feeling him slip under you and place your head right on his bare skin, feeling the bone of his sternum.

“did i... did i do well?” you murmured through fatigue, yearning to feel the warmth and affection of your boyfriend while his heart beat lulled you like a baby from a lullaby to a deep hearted sleep.

“you’ll always do perfect for me, forever ‘n ever.”

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ok so, he loves his hands. they’re big, and skinny, and his fingers are long. i mean he catches you looking at them all the time so it also happens to be a nice ego boost. george’s self esteem has kinda always been there but it hasn’t been amazing, but when you came in the picture then it was like 📈

“george, georgie, please. s’too much, too much.” your vision had been immensely bleary for the last few minutes due to pleasureful tears dripping from your waterline. your fingers tried to find the closest thing they could grapple at, george’s hands.

after three continuous rounds, george had been finger fucking you for the last thirty minutes pushing you to vast overstimulation. you had the feeling of pins and needles dance upon your cunt; the waves of pain and pleasure mixing into your nervous system and sprawling throughout your entire body.

you grasped ahold of his ivory-toned hand, trying to beg for his mercy; yet none was shown, this was your punishment. he reclined his hand that had a tense hand on your thigh, now directly on your abdomen pressing you back onto the messy comforter bed keeping his hand placed there.

seeing the arch of your spine in his direct view, seeing your face slightly contort in delectation as he hit the g-spot with the pads of his fingers. feeling the intense pride on how he could get you, so delighted and filled with pleasure at his decree.

“taking it like such a good girl, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

he likes tits, i mean... HE GIVES THE VIBE. like if he could he would hold them, squish them, kiss them, mark them in anyway he wanted FOREVER. which he would, but he couldn’t 24/7 so he took his opportunities when he could.

“hello george, how are you? i’m great, thanks for asking.” you chortled with intense sarcasm after your boyfriends sudden disruption from your reading and dramatically bursting into your dormitory and shoving his face into your chest beneath your his t-shirt.

“shhh, i need a minute of peace please.” he hushed you, feeling his lips suck a little on the flesh of your sternum, his voice incredibly muttered from the smothering of your boobs onto his mouth. feeling the vibrations from his lips send a mini-shockwave through your spine and attempting to repress an overdue shiver.

he left light kisses, from his previous red splotch, as he moved more underneath your shirt praising your skin as you chuckled a bit. his ginger hair tickled your neck as he continued, “my tits are peaceful?” you questioned, yet again in a sarcastic tone awaiting his response.

“yea, immensely.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) (isa i could kiss u for this one)

so, messy messy man. on your tits, on your thighs, on your face, on your STOMACH, on your ass and his fave.... inside of you <3 he just loves to see it on you, it turns him on again no matter how many times you’ve been at it.

que: birth control potions, because i’m pretending they exist and creampies are fun.

“gonna— gonna finish, where d’you want me?” the boy heaved while doing continuous thrusts deep into the walls of your cunt. furthering your grasp onto the clenched biceps and forearms that laid tense beside your perspired face.

“inside me, please. want it inside me.” your voice was winded and huffed, feeling the euphoric pleasure crinkle and bend onto your nervous system from your orgasam lull you into a relaxation, while your boyfriend continued to thrust into your overused cunt of the night.

feeling his tepid release stick into the planes of your thighs and a light sheen layer onto the lower abdomen of your torso. feeling the dripping of his cum directly laid upon your skin. the contrast between his release and your flesh looking almost exquisite in his view point.

you were so beautiful, so beautifully messy.

currently clenched around his prick you felt the tremble in his cock as he released into the velvet walls of your cunt, remaining inside of you as he caught his breath between his lungs from his swift thrusts.

“gonna keep you all full, yeah?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

george is in fact, a switch. like when he’s dom, he’s soft dom. but when he’s sub, he’s whiny and extremely forward in begging. it took him awhile to tell you because he felt embarrassed but after that you guys had a lot of... fun ;)

“please, please, ‘m sorry. i promise!” he griped, pulling on the silk on his restraints regulating the control of his wrists that laid on his lower back. “but georgie, isn’t this what you wanted? to be punished?” you sent a faux pout in his direction, your finger tips dancing upon his clenched torso once again edging the boy upon his ration.

“but, but—“ the boy faltered whilst speaking, trying to excuse his actions of venturing to grasp your attention whilst you were busy with another task, and disregarding you both friends pleas. “c’mon, georgie. you were bad, this is your punishment; if i hear anymore you won’t cum for a week.” you chastised, seeing his eyes widen in fright and obnoxiously nod his head in compliance.

your brought your hand back to his prick, thumb slightly outlining the slit in his tip; his most sensitive spot causing a small groan to escape his lips subconsciously, his back slightly melding off of the mattress and arching into the air at your pressure.

attempting to repress his pleasureful shivers that were scratching at his sensorium, his cock basically at your dictation for his release.

“you’re being punished, not pleasured.” you chastised once again, sprawling you hand on his abdomen pushing his back directly onto the ridged comforter once more.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

so people would agree to disagree, but george lost it first. i don’t think george would do one night stands, they were always with past girlfriends but you are the girl he truly put his all into.

“and you’re sure?” the boys frantically questioned once more, he had been previously skittish about if the both of you were ready to go into the next stage of your relationship; wanting your full consent to continue with anything.

and worrying that some kinks he had in mind might’ve been to much for future references, and just yearning for you to feel as comfortable as possible.

“told you, georgie, i want all of you.” the question was heaved through your words from the foreplay that had taken a gust of your air right out from under of you.

“we’ve talked about this darling, ‘m ready.” adding on to your comment, reassuring the boy who seemed to be faintly timorous on his next action that was soon to take place. you caressed his forearm, feeling the rigid bends of his veins over the pads of your finger tips. your other hand maneuvering itself on the curvature of his neck and bringing his lips to slot with your own.

feeling the comforting and familiar taste of pumpkin and cinnamon transfuse onto your tongue in the midst of feeling his plush lips blend with yours.

“i’m ready, want you inside of me.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where he can see your face, he can see your body, he can see all of you. he wants to kiss you, mark you, caress you. he wants everything he wants to feel so connected with you.

“you my darling.” he spoke, sighing as he spoke. in between words of his affirmations, splotching small kisses that bore on the planes of your lower abdomen and shifting his way up your bare-body.

“are the most ethereal thing, to ever exist.” the boy continued in his wake of appraisal, of your complete quintessence and soul.

“i love you.” you whispered in a small, barely audible murmur in appreciation of the red head you had been destined with. he was truly put in your path of life to give and receive love and adoration. “i love you.” the boy whispered back at your confession, muffled into the flesh above your sternum.

continuing to leave small vermillion hues of colour, making his way to the the junction of your neck and resuming with his praises of adorations of your complete essence.

the scarlet-haired boy was completely entranced with every element of your being, almost besotted with your every move. always wanted to praise, and adore every aspect of you in anyway he could possible.

“no, i love you more.” he corrected himself, undeserving of your mutual appreciation.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

healthy use of both. sometimes you guys have your super serious moments and other times you guys are giggling together.

“oh merlin, i really hope fred did not hear that.” you spoke through a sporadic chortle, your previous whimper being a little bit too raucous. the both of your wands misplaced and unable to cast a muffling charm meant you and george had to be as quiet as possible.

“y/n, he definitely did. let’s hope he’s asleep.” george making an effort to whisper but his own disgustingly humours mind getting too himself and letting chuckle slip out from his lips mid-sentence.

“i didn’t say stop, keep going!” you hastily spoke, sending a cheeky grin in faux annoyance at him as he continued his slow but intensely deep thrusts in your pulsing cunt, the both of you close to a release.

you were deeply trying to muffle your pleasureful noises from the palm of your hand, but discreetingly failing as you let another strangled moan bubble from your vocal cords.

both you and george looking at eachother frantic for a moment, completely silent and worried if one of his dorm mates had heard the both of you. silent for a moment then chuckling together whilst bumping noses at the voyeuristic acts that were being taken place in his very bed.

“oi, some of us are trying to sleep here!”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

yes the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes HE HAS A CARROT CROTCH DO NOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. as for grooming, i think he just just have a stubble? like i don’t feel like he cares to much about hair so he would just shave most of it off. as for u he does not give a fuck, as long as you like yourself he likes you so it does not matter at all for him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

ITS GEORGE WEASLEY IF UR NOT EXPECTING ROMANCE AND INTIMACY 89% OF THE TIME GO REEVALUATE. i’m not saying he’s not rough or not kinky, but he’s very intimate with you especially during aftercare. if he’s feeling special, like on anniversaries, birthdays, or days he wanted to make you feel really really good he would bring out rose petals, floating candles i mean he would WHIP OUT A LAVENDER OIL DEFUSER OR SOMETHING?

the floor was coated in tons vermillion bloomed rose petals, the scent of cinnamon and fresh linnen was intense through the air of the newly-cleaned dormitory, the fresh ivory bed made and the pillows slightly puffed to perfection.

“just, y’know, one last birthday surprise?” the red-head boy muttered staring at the scarlet-shaded floors whilst attempting to distract himself by fumbling his clammy hands into the pockets of his overworn grey slacks.

“d’you like it?” george continued to mutter, his eyes staggering around the room he had prepared for you both that night so he could kiss, cherish and adulate your entire being till the depths of early morning sunrise.

“georgie, i— i love it.” you felt perspiration sting in the waterlines of your eyes as you stammered slightly in shock, intense adoration and tenderness hastily speeding through your bloodstream hitting you directly into the warmth of your heart.

facing said-boy, you looked at him with complete fondness, grasping upon of his hand that was resting in his slacks now in the palm of your own comically-smaller hand.

“it’s truly amazing.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

gonna be honest here, not really. unless he wasn’t seeing you for like weeks, like during a holiday or something. even then i feel like he would imagine you were doing it to him, like whenever he was feeling needy he would normally just go to you and you were more than happy to oblige to his request.

“oh— fuck me.” the boy groaned while stroking his cock in quick circular motions, the other hand preoccupied with a risqué polaroid photo of you that you had sent him in the mail during the winter holidays.

it wasn’t the easiest being away from him during the winter holidays and his randomly occurring hard-ons apparently happened to occur more frequently without a desirable girlfriend around and more time to use your undesirable hand.

attempting to finish himself off fairly quickly so he could scoundrel himself back to bed counting the days till you would dramatically reunite on the hogwarts express and more than likely pull you away from peering eyes for a quickie in the bathroom.

just the thought of your beautiful skin melding with his own in the humid air of the bathroom made him spurt his release all over his prick and a groan emerging from his throat in the process.

“fuck.”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he has a innocence kink.... like the thought of teaching you everything like in bed makes his mind go WEEE WOO WEEE WOOO

now i shall elaborate

“pretty girl, does it feel good?” he crooned into the shell of your ear, feeling the tense grasp of your agile hands on his clothed biceps where his dress shirt laid on him and suddenly crinkled from your clasp onto him.

“mhm— yes, yes georgie.” you gasped mid sentence, trying to catch your breath from the new sensations that had washed over your nerves, feeling new pleasureful burning sensations in the pit of your abdomen and run along the curvature of your spine.

attempting to suppress small moans you continued petite chokes of air in ecstasy feeling george’s pads of his fingers dance upon your clit. “oh— fuck.” you muttered in a form of a bleary headspace trying to manage a coherent thought.

the red-head grinned in gratification, your full pleasure at his decree, knowingly giving you these new sensations. “i thought you were an innocent girl, now you’re my dirty one?” the boy mocked at your trembling figure in his lap.

“maybe you’re not my innocent girl after all.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

in my head.... he likes voyerism. don’t ask me why but the thrill of someone catching y’all 🤪

so i will no would have to say that he likes his dormitory a lot but i also feel like he likes the common room couch.

“oh, fuck—“ the moan has blossomed out of your throat and tinged in the previously solemn and peaceful common room, but now the air felt humid and extremely titillating common room that had been used for social and cuticular activities now being used for intercourse.

“darling if you’re not quiet we’re going to be caught.” the vibrations of his words directly muffled onto your perspired flesh, due to his manipulation of your body strictly at his will. “so good, daddy, so so good.” the words mildly uttered from your throat due to the infrequent gasps of pleasure between your words.

the both of you fused together passionately on the snug common room sofa in the late hours of the night, to be caught in a very comprising position by a student or supervisor if not subtle enough. the fire being your only production of light source throughout the entire room, dismissed in the backround close to being burnt out entirely.

“but daddy, you make me feel so good.” you’re voice tinged into a slightly higher pitch, feeling his deep thrusts enclosed inside of your cunt, your attempted muffles of rising gasps and lament whimpers to be heard significantly prominent throughout the walls of the vermillion shaded common room.

“awe slut, you want everyone to know how i’m making you feel?”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

so since georgie is a switch i feel like most of his motivation comes from when you’re bossy, outside of the bedroom. telling him what to do, how to do it, having to fix it for him. because either he’s gonna punish you for thinking you can be in charge or he’s gonna do literally everything you tell him too without a second thought.

“ok so for today, we’re not playing around here, you finish your charms, then we have lunch, we do transfiguration together, play some quidditch with fred, eat dinner, and then free period to do whatever we want, got it?” your hastily speeding voice catching the attention of his ears and consuming every single word that you had to say.

you glanced at him for a moment, his eyes slightly out of zone but still attentive to your words, also wanting to distinguish if he had been following to the list you had for the day so he could ultimately stop procrastinating and get his work done.

“yeah, er, i got it.” george spoke awkwardly for a moment, trying to discreetly shuffle around his body at the feeling of immense amount of pressure and tensity starting to form around his groin.

you raised a brown, you’re forehead slightly creasing as you tested the waters at his slightly timid figure and lack of response. “do i need to make you repeat it back to me.” tilting your head, trying to pan off as more intimidating so the red-head would coherently listen to you rather than pawn off and work on a prank with his mischievous-twin.

“no, no— i’m fi— you’re fine.” he groaned and he hesitated mid-sentence aiming to speak as casually as possible, moderately shuffling around his pants as he spoke at your firm and unyielding tone with him.

“you’re sure? because if you’ve got it wrong i’m going to upset, got it?” your voice at an adamant expression, annunciating that everything for the day was going to be smooth sailing rather than difficult and irritating for either of you.

“no, i understand.” he cleared his throat in compliance, aiming to remove any unnerving tension that might be there as he awkwardly trailed behind you to the library.

not to mention with a rock hard cock just sitting in his plants.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

threesomes. “bUt pArIs” NO. he would not want to share you, he had literally had to share everything his whole life and seeing his twin brother or literally anyone else pleasure you is a big fat NONO

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he’s a giver, if u say no, ur lying. hearing you go literally whimper, tremble, moan at HIS will that’s enough for him to cream his pants.

“georgie— fuck. keep going.” your praised the boy deep between your legs, your words of appraisal going straight to his groin area whilst you threaded you fingers directly into his damp ginger locks.

feeling his tongue swirl directly onto your engorged clit, small gasps emitting from your mouth as his face was buried into your cunt for the last hour. the exceedingly amount of ecstasy built up into a broiling pit in your belly and ready to explode at any given moment.

“‘m gonna cum, gonna finish.” you gasped, feeling his tongue prodding at your entrance, his thumb placed directly onto your swollen cunt and swirling in figure eight like motions to make your orgasam rapidly occur.

his prick immensely hard, beseeching for a release. his nearest output being the subtle grind of his hips and the soft mattress of the bed as you continued to sensually yank at his hair.

feeling the overflow of desire, the whimpers exceeding from your lips and the pressure against his cock made his orgasam occur midst your own; finishing together the only thing to be heard was your heaving breaths and george’s hoarse voice from not speaking for the last while.

“so, i might’ve just done something.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like he’s very medium paced, he’s not to fast nor slow. he has his moments where it’s very slow and loving or if he just lost a quidditch game and it’s very fast in rough. i don’t think it’s set on just one i think it varies.

“needy little slut, just wanted me so badly, hmm?” the grit in george’s teeth prominent as he spoke to you, the tensity of his hands on grip of your waist also clinically distinguished as he pulsed in and out of your from behind.

“fuck— please.” the begging was evident in your tone, feeling the grasp on your waist and he plunged into you emitting gasps every few seconds from desire. his hand grasped onto the root of your tresses, your cheek melding with the mattress and a moan exploding from your trachea at his aggressive demeanour.

“please—“ you continued you beg, not for anything in specific but the feeling of him to continue his thrusts and not falter his pace. the feeling of being exceedingly full of him, the explicit belligerent emotion he was feeling and turning that into passion.

knees bucking at his will as he continued the fast and thrown pace that was previously endured. feeling the ecstasy rome freely through your veins as he degraded you.

“my slut, so dirty.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

so... george wants to appreciate you fully. and i don’t think either of you would be so horny that he had to just pull you in a broom closet. even if it’s fast and rough aftercare is still extremely keen to him after having sex no matter the circumstances so i don’t think he would be into quickies.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) - this was in fact somewhat inspired by 50 shades of grey

george is the kinkier twin. there i said it, and i will not change my mind. yeah he’s more quiet whatever more emotional, throughful BUT THOSE ARE ALWAYS THE ONES WHO ARE KINKIER. i so as long as you were cool with it i feel like he would be as-well.

“so you wanna play, dove?” running the tip of the small blade down the depth of your torso, and across your abdomen seeing the heaving rise and fall of your torso. the slight scarlet-coloured ribbon peaking from underneath the arch of your back that restrained both of your wrists.

“yes, sir.” the mumble was stern, and tense but slightly heaved from apprehension on what he would do with the tip of the stygian-coloured blade that was held in his ivory hand. your safe word explicitly-clear before he had restricted your eyesight.

a slow light vermillion trailed in its wake from the tip of the blade that moved across the skin of your navel. he heard the audible gasp release from your mouth in anticipation.

“keep going, please.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

so i feel like george goes for like.... 3? but he definitely does foreplay and stuff too. so it’s like a healthy mix of a lot. so a couple of rounds, sometimes more, sometimes less, it all depends on the time like early in the morning or really late at night.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

so, i don’t think so. so the only thing i feel like he would have is like ropes/ties and blindfolds. other than that i don’t think so, but fred has definitely gifted you something just for the kick of it all.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like it depends if he’s more sub or more dom. if he’s dom he will tease you all he likes just to see you squirm, but if he’s sub then he definitely will wants you to tease him.

“georgie, please, i cant take it anymore.” you pleaded, your tone was soft but irritated, the continuous edging was extremely displeasing for you. you wanted him, you wanted to feel every withering inch of him, his body, his essence; but he simply wouldn’t give it to you.

“c’mon, weren’t you the one who ‘said patience is a virtue.’ you’ve got to be patient then, right dove?.” george made a mockery of something you had in a different context but instead he used it to his advantage.

his middle finger crept its way back to the depth of your navel and right on your cunt, starting recurrent swirls on your engorged clit. feeling a similar sensation that you had previously endured till your denied orgasam.

“be patient, or you won’t be getting anything.”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

i feel like it’s a lot of grunting and dirty talk, or even just praising. there’s more moaning when doing oral. it’s not necessarily loud but you can clearly hear it.

“my pretty little witch.” the words of appraisal blossomed from his mouth as he kissed upon the column of your neck and the bend of your shoulders. he proceeded to kiss around the shell of your ear and speaking.

“nobody can make me feel the way you can.” george murmured making sure you know, followed by a pleasureful grunt by the way your cunt was continuously clenching around his cock and the way your hand grasped at his lower back.

“oh, merlin—“ your voice sounded like a gasp, arching your back directly into his freckled chest from his prick prodding at your cervix, you’re breathing was heaved from his continuous thrusts that faltered as he was close to release and exceedingly praised into your perspired skin.

“i love you so much.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

george likes pda. i’m not talking like sex in the great hall or obnoxiously making out in the courtyard but he does like to show everyone that you are together.

“georgie if you kiss me again fred is going to throw up.” the murmur sent vibrational waves into the boys cheek your own affections shown at the proximity between you both, partly because the incessant chatter of the great hall.

“and? you’re my girl.” the statement was clear as day in his eyes, he wanted to show everyone just how much he loved you, the intimacy in the situation between two teenagers who were in love; he didn’t care what anyone else had to say.

you looked at him for a moment with challenging eyes, seeing the intimacy in his own cocoa-coloured ones. poorly making an effort to suppress a grin at his affections.

he took his opportunity to press a kiss to your plush-smooth lips, then the hued rose coloured flesh on your cheek, then the tip of your pointed nose.

“i love you, i won’t not show that because my git brother doesn’t like it.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

i feel like it’s a bit bigger than average, probably around 8in when hard? i think it’s more longer than thicker.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i mean..... he’s a teenage boy. i think it’s average like i don’t think he’s dying to have sex every second but he does in-fact like to appreciate you in more ways that one. because sex for him isn’t just a way to get rid of a hard on it’s a way to appreciate your body and just you in general.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like it depends on how hard the both of you went, because you guys could either end up talking for hours or simply just cuddle and fall asleep.

“‘m so tired, georgie.” you murmured into the boys bare chest, stroking the side of his torso as the both of you laid below his his fitted sheet bed. the time around twelve am and your eyes desperate for sleep.

“sleep, darling. i’ll be here in the morning to wake you up.” he uttered. his voice fairly hoarse and rough, whilst stroking your back feeling the wrinkle in the shirt he had given you. fairly prideful that you had been wearing something of his.

“love you, georgie” you wiped your nose while speaking, feeling love and adorned by the boy you were cuddling with; wanting these solemn peaceful moments forever.

“love you more, forever ‘n ever.”

taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

#george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x malfoy!reader #george weasley x muggle!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasly #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #george weasley fluff #george weasley one shot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

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clairenatural · 3 years

Note

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

#destiel #deancas #punk!cas #nerd!dean #i didnt know how to end this lmao sorry!!!!#(also ik this isn't quite as punk as the typical punk!cas im sorry sadhakdsh)#but wow i love these two now #this took me back its been a WHILE since i read/wrote some good punk/nerd #thank u anon #they live in my brain now #my words #follower fics #alcohol mention

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

Cousin Nero!

Kath on AO3 Requested:

Hello! I hope the world is treating you kindly today.

If you don't mind, could you write something inspired by dante having a baby daughter with his s/o, but the focus is nero having to baby sit the little darling while his family is busy?

“Enjoy, thank you for your patience.” -Rodeo

Contents: Aunt!Reader, Daddy Dante, Dante/Reader in the background, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slightest of Angst

Dante’s baby was a lot like him, white-haired and blue-eyed, the powerful Sparda genes still kicking. Nero didn’t think Dante was still gunning for a kid, even at his age. You were older too, not like he had the gall to bring it up ever, and your decision to be a mother was also an added surprise.

Nero had made himself scarce during the time of your pregnancy, you being ushered away by the protective Dante, his hand always on your swelling stomach.

You had insisted Nero come over for a little outing, inviting Kyrie to tag along as well. Vergil was obviously dragged in by Dante, having lived with him.

Vergil was stoically helping to chop vegetables for the tomato sauce, Kyrie instructing him what to do. Her patience and un-prying nature were commendable to Vergil, who enjoyed the peace alone when she hustled about the kitchen with you.

Sitting on the couch, Nero made eye contact with the baby Sparda.

The father had his daughter situated with her cheek against his bicep, body supported by his forearm while her limbs hung loosely, little strawberry footies on her tiny feet. Red crochet socks with green leaf-shaped fabric around the pudgy ankles, she was a sight to behold. Precariously held, yes, but with Dante’s reflexes, no way could the baby cause any surprises.

Awkward silences ran in the Sparda bloodline, Dante not feeling the need to talk and Nero not knowing what to bring up. The baby could simply care less, babbling and smacking her father’s bare arm once in a while.

His aunt, you, called Dante over. His uncle took a swig of beer and set it on the coffee table.

“Nero, here.”

“Whoa!” Nero sputtered as Dante just handed the baby to him. He was quick to cradle the back of her head, her body on his lap.

“I’m lighting up the grill and there’s no way I’m letting your old man touch it.”

Dante turned around to wave at his daughter with both hands, animatedly trying to catch her attention.

“See ya, daddy’s going to flip some burgers.”

And he was gone. Great.

Nero held the soft, powder-scented baby girl in his hands, concerned for her every move against him.

“H-hey.” She stared at him, a binky in her mouth.

Nero noticed she was rather heavy, despite her small body. Dense, almost.

The little one gurgled, arms waving about.

“Buh!”

“I’m Nero. I’m your cousin.”

“Abababa.”

The TV was on in the background, the baby ignorant of the football game. She seemed okay in his lap, staring at him with those complacent blue eyes.

There was a curiosity to her, lidded gaze at this new stranger. Nero had been around once and a while before she could really remember him. This hesitancy that he wasn’t part of the room, not wanting to intrude on this new family Dante made for himself.

She was very soft, Nero’s finger stroking her cheek. Her own hand gripped his own, thumb stroking his nail. It was a color unlike her own, black polish chipped on the edges.

“My girlfriend painted them.” Nero wanted to explain. But what did it matter? She likely didn’t understand.

She had a sturdy grip for a baby, trying to pick off where she could see his natural nail tone. She clearly hadn’t had her own nails trimmed for some time. Nero let her, not knowing what else to do.

He noticed there were toys on the sides of the couch, clearly shoved aside haphazardly. Where beer cans once littered the DMC shop, had baby toys replaced its territory.

“So...what do you do for fun?” Nero asked, stretching over the take a baby rattle. A hollow rattle from inside the plastic toy did a number on the baby’s amusement, the pacifier nearly popping out of her mouth.

“Ah!”

She snatched it from his hand, shaking it for herself.

Nero knows his strength and even though he is more than capable of holding the baby, he also doesn’t want to upset the child in any way.

Dante’s daughter is like him, very playful and friendly. She’s very clingy to her father but can get along with most folk.

The older cousin sits not knowing what to do with a baby that clearly wants to play with him, grabbing onto his red shirt and trying to snatch his necklace.

He remembers one time Dante bouncing his leg with her sitting on it, playing “horse and cowboy.” He copies, the baby delighted in the repetitive motion, gurgling and showing a few pearly teeth. The two younger Spardas don’t notice you and Kyrie popping in from the corner between cooking dinner to watch the bonding.

Time passed so quickly, Nero finding himself smiling at the few hours he had watching over the little girl.

Once everything from the grill was brought back in, Dante came back to his nephew cradling his slumped daughter.

The older Sparda sat down, shaggy hair pulled back with a pink hair tie he happened to have in his pocket, most likely meant for his little girl’s unruly hair.

“So, I see you and devil girl are getting along.”

Nero scoffed.

“Yeah, right after you tossed her at me. She was alright, had a lot of fun before she knocked out.”

Dante nodded, poking her cheek with his pointer finger. She twitched, white eyebrow jolting slightly. He chuckled, her little chubby hands rolled into fists in her slumber.

“You know, Nero. It’s pretty fun to be a dad. I mean, I didn’t have to push this little melon head out, that was (Y/N)’s short end of the stick.” Dante gave his daughter a loving glance, who dozed against Nero.

“I wasn’t really around babies growing up. Wasn’t great with people my age anyways.”

“Don’t worry, me neither. You know how many times I probably kicked Vergil in the womb?” His uncle elbowed him jokingly, Nero dodging to avoid waking up the baby.

Nero laughed at the idea of two feuding fetuses.

“Well, you two aren’t exactly peas in a pod.” Dante shrugged, agreeing.

“That’s for damn sure. But trust me, I think you and her have a lot in common.” Nero raised an eyebrow at that comment.

“How so? Besides, you know.” He gestured to his and Dante’s hair. Dante looked at the staticky TV, this honest and genuine stare only a man who finally had peace could give.

“You two bring the rest of us together.”

Nero stilled, not knowing what to say. The years of being alone, raised in an orphanage, ostracized and left to believe he had no one of blood, never being warm by the arms of a mother, had left him foreign to this. This belonging. This familial purpose.

To be wanted.

Nero watched as the baby stiffened up before slowly stretching awake, yawning to show her teething gums. She rubbed those round hands against her eyes, blearily exposed to the eyes of her adoring father and cousin.

Just in time before both men had to sit in their respective emotionally vulnerable, contemplative yet awkward silences

“Hey there, kiddo. Want to come to Papa?” A few wispy strands loose from her headband were stuck to her face, slightly dazed and confused.

Dante clapped his hands at her, offering to hold her again. She shook her head, nustling her head on Nero’s chest. Either by coincidence or infantile smugness, her two hands rested over each other to cushion her head as she glanced at Dante, almost to say “No, I’m alright here.”

“I guess I’m her favorite now.”

“Way to be ride or die, sweet child of mine.” He sighed, shaking his head.

Nero and Dante played with the awakened baby until they were called for, you taking the baby who reached out for your touch.

The food smelled amazing, a full spread on the table just enough for everyone to pull a seat up. Dante speed-walked to the last wooden chair, Vergil deprived of a proper seat, sitting a bit shorter than everyone else in a spare plastic one.

Nero moved to sit next to Kyrie, when the youngest Sparda began to fuss a table across, pointing to him and yelling incoherently.

“Do you want to sit with Nero?” You asked, your little one shaking her head.

You looked across to notice Nero had already taken his plate to get up, ready to switch seats with you.

Dante and Vergil shared a smile over this, pleased their children got along despite the years apart they were.

Although it took a long time, the Spardas finally got the privilege to sit together and exist as a family.

#damn haven't written for devil may cry in a while #feeling pretty rusty #Dante #Dante Sparda #dante x reader #nero #nero sparda #devil may cry #spardacest do not interact #dmc #post dmc5 #daddy dante #dadgil in the background #nerokiri #dmc kyrie #wip

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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

you don’t make it to the bedroom pt.2

Small smut drabbles of having a quickie with Hizashi and Gang Orca.

Yamada Hizashi

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate everyone,” you carped, lugging your bag onto the table. Your laptop clunked loudly, but you could not care less and tossed your jacket over it, hiding the stupid work from your eyes.

“Everyone?”

“Yes.” You wanted to sound angry. The arms circling your waist prevented that, easing your voice. The lips also helped. So didn’t the lean chest pressing to your back. You leaned into his kisses, muttering, “Not everyone I guess.”

Hizashi rubbed your sides, humming some song you couldn’t place. It quickly calmed your mind, maybe a little too much. The arousal wedging between you was a bonus. He softly mused into your ear, “Why don’t you let me help. Sit on the table for me, baby.”

You spun and hopped up, spreading your legs. Gracefully fingers reached under your skirt and removed your underwear. It was replaced with his mouth, kissing your clit, pumping it with his lips. His quirk amplified his lip’s vibrations as he whispered against you, “Your pussy’s taste so fucking good-” His tongue flowed fully, broadly into you a few times. “-So fucking good.”

He cradled your thighs, keeping his access wide open. Loose hair blocked his eyes. You brushed it back to see them closed, focusing on sucking your clit. His nose pressed close. He was mumbling something, but you didn’t bother listening, completely content with just feeling the attention.

One suck ended in a bite. You gasped, dropping your head back, forearms resting on the table. You breathed for him, “Come here.”

In the span of a second, Hizashi stood, pulled himself out, and pushed inside, moaning with you. He untucked your shirt and effortlessly, swiftly unbutton all the buttons. It hung open, giving him liberty to pry your bra down and suck on your breasts.

Once attached, he began thrusting. He sunk heavily and withdrew abruptly. It was hurried, uneven, and just what you needed. Your fingers drifted into his pants to dig your nails into his ass’s skin. A groan sounded right before biting your nipple. It drove your nails deeper, in turn goading his hips to hump harder.

You moaned his name. The thrusts turned upward, forcing lewd sounds from both of you, especially from both of your lips, lecherous and needy. “Holy fuck, right there.”

Hizashi kept the motion. The table creaked with your bodies. Something prodded your spine. You paid it no mind, scratching up his back to his shoulder blades, hiking his shirt with you, messing his clothing just like he did yours. The cold metal of his belt jolted your clit, flattening, pinning painfully and wonderfully.

“Fuck, Hizashi, fuck, keep going,” you gushed.

He groaned at your nail’s continuous pricking but refused to release from your nipple, sucking sensitive skin raw. A few more tough thrusts later, you found your high, moaning into, marking up, and humping with him until your muscles slouched.

You gathered his hair tight as he nursed, rutting your laxed body. He suddenly slipped out. You jerked him off, watching while he came onto your skirt, still suckling, breathing intensely through his nose. Teeth closed in.

You half-laughed, half hissed, “Hizashi, you need to let go.”

His lips stiffened around your nipple. He remained between your legs, now hugging your waist, cuddling your chest. You relaxed to the table, choosing to let him stay, having no energy or real reason to fight with him.

Gang Orca

The door closed. The lock clicked. Kugo snagged your hand, stopping you from heading into the bedroom, and twirled you back to him. A tongue landed on your neck. You laughed, “What’s up, Kugo?”

“This dress looks beautiful on you,” he hummed. A finger traced up your exposed thigh to the top of your hips, playing with the long, flowing material. “I’m unsure if you noticed the man at the table beside us. He kept looking at your legs.” His tongue flicked your lips. “All night long.”

“I didn’t notice. I was staring at you the whole time,” you condoled as you loosened his tie. Your fingers stroked out from his neck, across his broad shoulders, and fondled his wide biceps. The shirt didn’t hide their power.

“So was I.” You smiled at his softened eyes. His tongue took the opportunity to brush into your mouth. Its heft prompted a moan and provoked your hips to press against his legs. One thigh tried to push forward, but it caught on the long dress.

Kugo didn’t fight with it. Instead, he picked you up by your sides. You hugged his neck and wrapped your legs around him. The dress draped off to the sides, allowing his hips to meet your panties. The protective jealousy seeped downward and through his pants.

You sighed around his tongue at his unusual boldness. It drifted farther. Your back connected to a wall, and it edged almost too deep. You couldn’t ask anything with it inside. Not that you minded. It was a welcomed change of pace.

Hands moved to your thighs, holding you flush to him. Blindly and blunderingly, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. A groan rumbled when you pulled him out. He sat thick, firm, and solid on your palm. Your fingers didn’t circle him while you frisked him and yourself, preparing for the stretch.

But eagerness took over. Both of you were ready- very, very ready. You pulled your underwear to the side, lined him up, and slowly tried to nudge him in, wetly whimpering at the strain.

The stifling, washing tongue finally left your mouth. Kugo rasped, “Don’t force it. I don’t want-”

He popped in. You yelped. He huffed, banging a fist to the wall as he rushed inside, your weight sinking you halfway. He asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

Your body was shifted into a better position, waiting for the slight pang to fade. It eased with his tongue lapping your neck. Taking it to mean you were good enough, you started grinding. It was a little awkward in his hold, but his size still gave plenty of pleasure. Yet he remained still. You whined his name.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Kugo, please… I’m almost…” You gasped at the tiniest buck. “God, just start.”

Claws hooked your ass and he took his first thrust. You swore and cursed and cussed as they continued, slamming up into your thighs, jostling your back against the wall. Each one dove deeper and deeper, harassing your front wall beautifully.

His chest flattened to yours. Heat trapped between you, stifling your moans. He rutted your body, drumming, heaving, “I’m already…”

“Fuck, me too.” You clung to and bit his shirt through the ride. Water coated your eyes at the tension. But it was nothing compared to how wet you felt once he came, releasing everything into you, not slowing until you followed, ripping at his arms, moaning through your teeth.

The slosh and slapping died as quick as all of this started. You felt full and sticky despite some of it drizzling out of you, gluing to your skin and dress.

“Oh my God.” you sighed. Your fingers wouldn’t grip any longer. Your legs slacked.

“Sorry for acting so hastily.”

“Don’t be. That was great.”

Kugo copied your drowsiness, expanding his chest with a yawn. He then carried you to the bedroom, keeping himself inside you the whole walk.

#present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #present mic smut #gang orca smut #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha smut

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from-seas-to-skies · 3 years

Text

The Teacher / Bakugou x Reader ♕︎

warnings: NSFW, teacher/student relationship, oral sex, spitting, sir kink, slut shaming, somewhat brat taming, age difference, unprotected sex

words: 5,772

(a/n): Bakugou is 30 in this; reader is younger (college age)

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

One, two, three, four… How long was it going to take until class ended again?

Looking up from your notebook, you stare up at the clock, the large, monotonous face seemingly glaring straight back at you. You don’t know how it happens, but time always moves so slow when it comes to your calculus class. Frankly, you’d rather ditch the class altogether, but if you wanted to graduate from college, you had to pass. Curse stupid curriculums and all that shit.

However, despite absolutely dreading having to stare at numbers for a solid hour and a half, there is a plus side to taking this dreaded class. In fact, it’s the very reason why you signed up for it in the first place. You’ve heard so many wonderful things about it, all from girls and guys alike, and you knew you had to see it up close and personal – rather, you had to see him.

Professor Bakugou.

Age thirty, drives a Land Rover, and, most importantly, single.

He’s about as dreamy as they come; a complete and utter Dreamboat Annie, absolutely huge in both height and stature, intelligent, and handsome. He’s only been a professor for a few years, but it’s been made apparent to the school that he’s worth it. Not only are his teaching methods and lectures incredible, but he’s turned out some of the highest grades your college has even seen. That itself is impress, and, combined with the hype of how hot he is, it’s no wonder people rush to take his classes.

So, when it came time for class schedules to come out, you were excited, needless to say. Despite having a general disliking to math in the first place, you figured this one guy could be what it takes to turn that idea around. Oh, but that was before you first laid your eyes on him.

Shit, you had heard that he was attractive – godly, even – but this? You weren’t expecting this. His biceps alone could crack a watermelon, and his sharp jawline could easily cut diamonds. It sounds cliché, that’s true, but you have no other way of putting it. Words did not do this man any justice.

At first, his constant yelling and crude demeanor were a total turn off. Professor Bakugou was essentially the teacher version of Gordon Ramsay, and you weren’t entirely sure if you liked that or not. However, as time continued, you actually grew accustomed to it. In fact, if he didn’t yell at least once during the class, you’d immediately figured he was having a bad day.

That’s when the thoughts began. Call it infatuation, a mindless crush, whatever, but you wanted Professor Bakugou. Your eyes soon began to watch his large hands flex while he wrote on the board rather than the content itself. You’d watch his forearms flex while he turned the page in his textbook, prominent veins inviting you for a better look. How you longed to touch him, to grab his sturdy shoulders or pull his wild hair. He always looked so good, clothes tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly.

You’d fantasize about the most random of scenarios, each of them usually ending up with him bending you over his desk at the front of the room. You liked colder days the best, especially since Professor Bakugou had the habit of wearing form-fitting sweaters that outlined his massive pecs or the swell of his arms. You wanted to make him feel better, to sit underneath the desk and suck him off while he taught the rest of the class. Those narrow hips had to be strong, and you’d be damned if you never got to experience their power at least once.

It’s almost as if Professor Bakugou had cast a spell over all of his students. Nearly all of them gushed about how great he was; and, if you were in the proper company, they exchanged fantasies or proclamations about how fucking gorgeous he was. You’d usually grow bitter at these types of conversations. It was a crush, for fuck’s sake. There was no need to get all pouty like some problematic schoolgirl.

Still, the thoughts wouldn’t go away, not when he taught, not when he yelled. His booming voice became a part of your wicked fantasies, wondering how it’d sound to hear him grunting your name or commanding you to spread his legs for him. Again and again, you told yourself that it was fine, that people develop crushes on their teachers all the time. It was only in the dead of night that you’d have your hand stuffed down your pants and mouth moaning his name into a pillow was when you regretted it. It was a phase, nothing more.

And yet, over two months into the semester, and these thoughts still won’t go away. The constant ticking of the clock brings you back down to Earth, your eyes focusing on the problems before you. Swallowing thickly, you loosen your hand, now just noticing how hard you’ve begun to clench your pencil. Your insides feel oddly warm, that pleasant, heavy feeling sitting behind your belly button. Dammit, you mentally curse, this is not the time to be getting distracted.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

If only class could end sooner.

“Right,” Professor Bakugou suddenly says from his desk, “this Friday, I’m holding a study session for the upcoming exam on Monday. There’s only going to be a limited number of seats available, so if you wanna join, here’s your chance.” With his words, he holds a blank sheet of notebook paper up, a rather bored expression on his face.

He must be tired, you think, unconsciously biting your bottom lip. But why?

Around you, students shuffle to the front of the class, waiting for a chance to scribble their names onto the paper. Some seem a bit more excited than others, obviously arching their backs or flipping their hair over their shoulders. With a scoff, you look back down to your work. Did they really think they could catch his attention like that? Yeah, so he doesn’t show off a ring on his finger, but it’s pretty likely that he has people throwing themselves at him all the time. Besides, Professor Bakugou is a strict guy; there’s no way he’d engage in a relationship with a student.

You really shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. It’s pointless to pine after your teacher like that, especially with the risks that come along with getting involved with each other. Still, you can’t help but feel bitter. Professor Bakugou is a god that walks amongst men, so how could you not want somebody like him?

“Alright, that’s all for today. Class dismissed,” Professor Bakugou calls out. Dammit, you spaced out again. Maybe you should get that checked out?

With a sigh, you stuff your belongings into your backpack and draw to a stand. You wish it would be spring already; trudging through snow and ice is never fun, and the fact that your dorm is basically on the other side of campus makes it even more rough. Pulling your coat on and slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you make way towards the classroom door, completely unaware of a set of eyes watching your every move.

“Man, this is impossible,” your best friend, Ashido Mina, groans. “I’m going to bomb this exam for sure!” Sprawled out on her stomach, she squirms on the floor, her face scrunching with her displeasure.

You, on the other hand, sit cross-legged across from her. Notebooks and math textbooks surround the two of you, your laptop and calculator at the ready. Bags of chips and pretzels sit to the side, along with abandoned coffee cups and empty water bottles. Professor Bakugou’s exams were notorious for being hard, but at the same time, if you payed attention in class and studied, you’d succeed. The thing is, though, that neither you nor Mina are the best when it comes to math.

“I thought you went to his study session?” you ask, glancing up from your own notebook.

Flashing you a pout, Mina nervously runs a hand through her fluffy hair. “Well, yeah, but you know how it goes! A secluded area with Professor Bakugou! It’s like a dream come true! It was hard to focus when he’s leaning over your shoulder like that…”

Rolling your eyes, you puff in amusement. “Really? Mina, you know what will happen if you fail this test.”

“Yeah, yeah, but come on! You can’t blame me! You would’ve done the exact same thing!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh yes you would’ve!” Mina exclaims, pointing an accusing finger your way. “Don’t pretend like you don’t ogle Professor Bakugou during class! He’s one hell of a hunk, isn’t he? I never knew college professors could be so hot!” she gushes, a giggle following her words. “And that study session – oh my god, I nearly thought I was going to heart attack when he helped me solve this one problem. He’s so warm and he smells great!”

You cock an eyebrow at her. “You were smelling our teacher?”

At that, Mina blows a raspberry and waves a dismissive hand. “I’m not Kaminari, sweetheart. I have class. Besides, Professor Bakugou smells like caramel. Can you believe it? I wonder if he uses cologne or feminine soap.”

Caramel, eh? Now that’s something you can get behind.

“You want him to fuck you, right?”

Wait, what?

Narrowing your gaze at her, your brows knit closely together. “What kind of question is that?”

Mina rolls her eyes. “What, like you don’t think about it? Practically everyone on this campus has thought about it at some point or another? I mean, hello! He’s totally Daddy material. I’ve heard that he goes to the gym sometimes here on campus – turns out he’s huge.”

Huge. Of course this is what Mina chooses to focus on. You wish you had a spray bottle to squirt at her horny ass.

“And I don’t mean muscle wise,” Mina continues, a mischievous expression coming to her face. “I bet he tastes like candy.”

“Mina.”

“Why yes, Mr. Bakugou sir! I’ll gladly suck your fat cock for an A!”

“Mina.”

“His ass is really nice, too. I wouldn’t mind pegging him-“

“MINA.”

“What?”

You smack your forehead and groan as your hand trails down your face. “Are you going to study or not? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather graduate than work at McDonald’s for the rest of my life.”

Mina purses her lips at you in an excessive pout. “You’re such a fun sponge, holy shit. I think you need a good dicking down by Professor Bakugou. Maybe then you’d stop staring after him all the time during class.”

Your face heats up at her words, but there’s no way you’re owning up to that. Okay, so yeah, maybe getting fucked by him would be a dream come true, but you’re more realistic than that. “And you’re not concerned at all that he’s our teacher? You know, like he could lose his job and you could be expelled? That doesn’t bother you? At all?”

Mina shrugs. “Meh.”

“Woooow…. You really are shameless.”

“Hey, you win some, you lose some. If I could get that man to put a ring on my finger, then I’d be okay with it.”

“Yeah, because you definitely want to bring your math professor home. Uh huh, great one. Tell me how that goes.”

With a grunt, Mina rolls over and sits up. “Whatever, man. I’m hungry, so I’m going to go down to the dining hall. Wanna come with?”

Glancing at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand, you see that it’s only 5:15. True, you could get a bite to eat, but you’d rather stay back and finish a few more problems. “I think I’ll join up with you later,” you tell Mina.

She nods her head and offers you a small smile. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.” Gathering up her things, she unceremoniously shoves them into her backpack and salutes you with a goodbye. After she pulls the door shut behind her, you turn back to the task at hand.

It shouldn’t be this hard to solve these last couple of problems, but your brain is really starting to feel the struggle. A dull ache is already forming between your eyeballs, and you truly wonder if you’re going to make it through this or not. Maybe you should take a break, or at least give your eyes a rest. Still, that little stubborn streak in you tells you to carry on. You only have a few more problems left, and you’re so close to finally finishing!

As you set to work, the digits on your alarm clock change as time drags on. Okay, so maybe you’re demanding too much of yourself. Your brain is absolutely fried, and your headache is spreading. Glancing back up at the clock, luminous green lines glare a 5:31. Jeez, it’s only been sixteen minutes since you last checked, yet it seems as though hours have passed. You really want to finish this study session, but the last problem is throwing you in for a loop.

You’ve already scoured your notes and the textbook for how to go about the problem, but your mind is drawing up with a blank. It has to be because you’re tired, right? It’s not that hard… Or is it?

“Dammit,” you mutter, sitting back and pressing your palms flat against the floor. Again, you look at the clock. Frankly, you don’t want to spend all night pouring over this, and you don’t want to skip dinner, either. You know for a fact that Mina will beat your ass for skipping out on food. “Screw it.”

Scrambling off the floor, you throw a thick coat on and slide on your sneakers. Professor Bakugou sometimes has the habit of frequenting his office during the weekends (or so you’ve heard), and you desperately need to know how to solve this problem. Chances are something similar will be on the exam, and you want to get as good of a grade as possible. Plus, if he is there…

You swallow thickly. Now is not the time to let Mina’s previous words get to you.

And so, with your notebook tucked underneath an arm, you take off.

It’s a damned shame that his office is practically on the other side of campus, but you figure it wouldn’t be too bad to get your body moving after spending so much time hunched over. Now that you think about, you could just email him, but you’re not sure how quick he’d respond. This is a dire moment. Okay, maybe not, but still. Maybe you want to see Professor Bakugou. Maybe.

You’re thankful when you finally enter the building, free of the flurries of snow and the seeping chill. Stomping your feet free from snow, you look around, creeped out yet fascinated by the silent, empty halls. You doubt very many people are here besides lingering staff and the janitors. One could only hope that Professor Bakugou is frequenting his office.

As you draw closer and closer to his office, your footsteps bounce off the walls, reminding you of how alone you are. There’s a fifty/fifty chance that he’s even going to be in his office, yet your heart pounds frantically in your chest. If he isn’t there, you’ll just simply turn around and stalk back to your dorm and hope for the best. If he is there, well, you’re not entirely sure what you should say.

He’s your teacher, dammit. It shouldn’t be this hard going up to him and asking him for help. It’s literally his job to help students out; nothing more, nothing less. Still, Mina’s words ring throughout your mind. It’s just a crush, you remind yourself. Stop getting so worked up about it.

There it is, just straight up ahead – Professor Bakugou’s office.

Like the other offices lining the hall, it’s made from a heavy wood, a frosted window place in the top half with Professor Bakugou’s name printed on it. A simple door like this shouldn’t intimidate you so much, but yet it does. All you have to do is knock on it, wait for a possible response, and then go from there. However, now that you’re in front of it, you somewhat hope he’s not there. Your palms are growing clammy and your throat feels fuzzy.

“Here goes nothing,” you tell yourself, reaching up and rapping on the door.

For a moment, nothing happens. Perhaps Lady Luck has decided to spare some mercy on you, after all. Releasing a pent-up breath you didn’t know you were even holding, you prepare to step back and walk away, but then a muffled come in sounds through the door.

Oh, shit.

You wince as your cowardice floods you with a renewed force. There’s no way you can just leave now, not if you want Professor Bakugou potentially chasing you down. Taking in a deep breath, you turn the brass knob and poke your head inside. “Uh, Professor Bakugou?”

Oh, shit.

There he is, sitting behind an oak desk, hunched down over a stack of papers. He holds up a single finger, a signal for you to give him a moment. Immediately, your eyes skim over his exposed forearms, skim over the tight black turtleneck that fits him like a glove. Rolled sleeves, watch on wrist, and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, he’s just dripping with classy sexiness.

The steady tick tock, tick tock fills the otherwise silent room. It grates on your already wired nerves, mocks you for just standing there, waiting. You can’t help but glance at its face – 5:49. It’s already dark out, winter’s everlasting darkness sapping the Earth’s light. Stepping fully inside the room, you gently shut the door behind you, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

After another moment or so, he finally clicks his pen closed, tosses it onto the desk, and leans back in his chair. “Oi – what do you want?”

Removing your notebook from underneath your arm, you hold it out for him to take. “I was… I was wondering if you could explain how to work out this problem?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Professor Bakugou sits upright and glances at what you’ve written. “We discussed this during the study session on Friday.” His eyes dart up to yours. “I’m surprised you weren’t there.”

Is he singling you out right now? It feels like he’s singling you out right now. But wait, doesn’t that also mean that he noticed you not being there? He’s just saying that to say it, right? …Right?

“There was a lot on my mind,” you say softly.

Professor Bakugou sighs. “Alright, come here.” Maybe it’s the gruffness of his voice, but the simple command nearly has you whimpering on the spot. Jesus, you need to get your act together!

“Of course, sir,” you reply, the title subconsciously rolling off your tongue. Skirting around the desk, you come to his side, unaware of him shifting in his seat.

“It’s really not that hard if you put your damned brain to use,” he grunts, picking his pen back up. You notice how the tendons in his hand flex with the subtle movement; actually, now that you’re up close in personal, you can clearly see the veins racing up his forearms, the sheen of blond hairs.

Warmth seems to radiate off of him, just like how Mina said. You wonder if he gets hot easily, or if that’s just the way he is. Either way, you shimmy the slightest bit closer to him, eager to ward off the chill that still clings to you from the outside. He goes into great detail about how to go through each step surrounding the problem; you lean over his shoulder as he goes through the steps, the heat emanating from his skin drawing you in more and more. With each breath, the scent of caramel floods your senses. You’re almost half tempted to press your nose to his nape and get a better smell, but that’d just be creepy. Plus, even if you did that, Professor Bakugou could probably pick you up and literally throw you out of his office.

Still, despite knowing the risk, your mind takes off, just like it usually does whenever you’re in his presence. It would just be so easy to squeeze his thick arms, to run your fingers through his thick blonde hair. Maybe you could push the collar of his turtleneck down, expose his neck and bite the pulse. It’s almost ridiculous just how big he is, how easily he could overpower you. A familiar warmth floods your system, encasing your insides and clutching onto your heart. This is bad – very, very bad.

“Oi, what the hell are you staring at?” Professor Bakugou barks.

Snapping yourself back to attention, you notice him staring at you, his glasses now off his handsome face. If possible, he’s even more attractive up close; thick lashes, full lips, a slight gleam in his eyes that demand power and control. He almost looks entirely different like this, face lax instead of fixed with a scowl. Good lord, you really are whipped for him.

“Oh, um, sorry,” you ramble, eyes going wide. “It’s just that your hair looks really… fluffy…?”

“…Hah?”

You quickly avert your eyes. “Nevermind…”

“You know,” Professor Bakugou starts, voice low, “you stare at me a lot during class, too. You’re not very subtle.”

You wince at his words. “I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about-“

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs and tosses down his pen. “You’re not majoring in theatre, are you? Because you suck at acting.” He flashes you a cocky smirk when you look back to him. “Just admit it – you like what you see, don’t ya? Can’t say I blame you.”

Okay, wow, cocky much. Yeah, sure, he’s an absolute babe, but wouldn’t you think he’d be a bit more… modest?

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Didn’t know my math professor thought so highly of himself.”

“Tch. Looks like you got a damn mouth on you, after all. Well, if you’re done undressing me with your eyes, do you want to learn how to do this problem or not? I don’t like repeating myself, but I’ll let it slide just this once since I like you.”

Wait, wait, hold up. Did he just say he likes you?

“You’re a good student,” Professor Bakugou continues. “Even if you do focus on me more than my lecture.”

Is this how the conversation was supposed to play out? Because damn you’re nearly shaking, and you still have your coat on. He knows too much, dammit. He’s known this entire time and he’s playing you.

“And yet you could’ve easily told me to stop,” you shoot right back, sick of being prosecuted like this. Sure, it might be a bad idea to pick a fight with a teacher, but this is outside of classroom hours; and, frankly, he can kiss your ass. Crude demeanor or not, you’re not about to let this man push you around.

“Who said I wanted you to stop?”

No. There’s no way he just said that. This big-headed narcissist is relishing in this, isn’t he? Bastard.

“Hate to break it to you, Professor, but almost everyone stares at you like that,” you tell him. You realize you just admitted it to the accusation, but there’s no point in defending it anymore.

“Like I give a shit about the others? Really? You’re gonna talk about them?” He scoffs his amusement and leans back in his chair, thick arms crossing over his chest. “Did you come here to ask me questions about the exam or did you just want to be with me all by yourself?”

You hesitate. Is that really the reason you came here tonight? The whole way here you debated this yourself, Mina’s words circling around your head. No, you’re smarter than this. It’s a bad idea to get involved with a teacher – it’s wrong.

“I’m not going to lie or deny the truth,” Professor Bakugou continues, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically low pitch. “I’m also not stupid. You’re just as scared as me, aren’t you? Of the repercussions.”

Your mouth falls agape. What is he going on about…?

Slowly, Professor Bakugou sits back up, his face getting dangerously close to yours. Hot breath fans over the bottom half of your face. His eyes are heavily lidded, his lashes kissing his cheeks. “I’m not going to force anything on you,” he murmurs. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Oh my god.

Unable to resist the close proximity anymore, you shoot forward, your hands landing on the arms of the chair; Professor Bakugou’s lips are softer than you anticipated, but in no way is he gentle. Right away he’s clutching the back of your neck, dragging you forward so you’re settled on his lap. The arms of the chair pinch into your thighs at the tight fit, but you could care less. You’re on Professor Bakugou’s lap, you have his tongue in your mouth, his hands landing on your ass and kneading the flesh.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he growls, his hands slipping under your shirt and gliding over your lower back. You arch into his touch, a breathless moan slipping past your lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you pant.

“I know.”

Fuck, it’s all so good, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth and hands unbuttoning your jeans. A startled noise erupts from your throat as a large hand slides into the front of your pants, cupping your crotch. You buck into his touch, all sense dissipating from your thoughts as you fervently grind into his heated palm. There’s a clutter of paper and office supplies as they hit the floor. Before you know it, you’re rising from the chair, your ass landing on the wooden desk instead.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” Professor Bakugou grits. Your ass is barely on the desk by the time he’s done dragging you forward, your jeans aggressively getting yanked off, your underwear following suit. Your thighs instinctively snap shut at the cold air making contact with your bared skin, but strong hands pry them apart, fingertips kneading into the flesh. “I wanna make you cum with my tongue.”

“Wai- Ah! Fuck!” you cry out, your fingers clutching onto the edge of the desk as his head ducks down, his mouth latching onto your sex. Until now, you weren’t even aware that you were dripping with arousal. Sinful noises spill from between your legs as Professor Bakugou fucks you with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive parts.

“God, you’re such a slut.”

Smack.

You cry out as he brings a hand down on the innermost part of your thigh; your nerves quake, your blood pumps wildly through your veins. Again, he slaps your thigh, a growl tearing itself from his chest as he looks up, his eyes catching yours.

“Say it.”

Smack.

“I – I’m a slut,” you babble, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Smack.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m a slut!” you exclaim, voice cracking.

“I expect you to refer to me properly,” he says darkly, his pupils dilating to the point where you could barely see his irises. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

A single smirk is thrown your way before his mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. His moves are quick, sensual. It’s clear he’s experienced, and you don’t blame him. Just look at him for Christ’s sake. The man is basically sex on legs, all nicely wrapped up in a turtleneck sweater and a simple pair of slacks. The pleasure only heightens as his fingers come into play, prodding at your hole; the tips just barely push past the muscle, leaving you moaning even louder and clutching harder on the desk. Your fingernails scratch the surface, the lacquer coming off.

“Tasty little brat, aren’t ya?” he drawls. Your entire body jolts as he spits on your sex. “I could get used to doing this.”

“Please, sir,” you plead, desperation filling your voice. You want his mouth back on you. You want to cum. “Please, it feels so good…”

Professor Bakugou clicks his tongue. “Shit, you’re even obedient. How nice.” He redoubles his efforts, then, wet noises filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

“Shit, shit, oh my god,” you babble, your body tensing. Still, his tongue digs in just right and there goes your sanity, flying out the window as you cum.

A deep chuckle fills your ears as Professor Bakugou sucks it down; drawing away, he flashes you his tongue, your arousal coating his tongue before he makes a show of swallowing the last bit of it. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he draws to a stand. The tent in his slacks is obvious, the front of it darker than the rest. Your insides squeeze around nothing, the idea of making him get like that making you feel hotter than before.

You’re hypnotized as he pulls his hands away. His movements are slow and methodical, the clink of his belt echoing throughout the room. Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip as he leisurely undoes his belt and slacks. Blood rushes through your ears, your mind a complete mess. You feel dizzy with want, with the need to sink your teeth into the swell of his pectoral, to claw the plains of his back.

All the air is sucked from your lungs when he finally pulls his cock out, the head flushed a deep red. Your eyes trail over the prominent veins, the fat bead of precum pushing its way out the tip. Fuck, he’s huge, both in length and girth. Whoever told Mina that he was big wasn’t lying. Your legs subconsciously spread even wider, a silent plead for him to fill you up and fuck you raw.

“Tell me you want this,” he husks. He does the honor of unzipping your coat and slipping it off your shoulders before easing you onto your back. The cold from the wood permeates through your shirt, brings a new wave of goosebumps to your flesh.

“Only if you tell me the same thing,” you croak. “Do you fuck all of your students who walk in through that door?”

“No,” Professor Bakugou blatantly says, and you can tell he’s being earnest. “It’s wrong of me to think so, but I’ve been wanting to do something with you since I saw you. It sounds like some sappy bullshit, but it’s the truth. I was too much of a pussy to ask you out for a coffee.”

Something about hearing him confess his feelings to you sets your heart alight. A slight smile tugs at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Tch. And you’re a fucking brat.”

Hunching over you, a large hand plants itself by your head while the other guides his cock to your awaiting hole. A shaky breath passes through your mouth as he pushes himself in; the stretch burns, his thick cock filling you up in a way that you didn’t even know was possible.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes. “Look at you, sucking in my cock like that. What a good little slut. I bet you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? I bet you touched yourself while thinking about this very moment, about me fucking you on my desk like this.” A surprised squeak bursts from your throat as he grabs your legs and throws him over his shoulders, effectively bending you in half. “Gotta fuck you nice and deep, right? Because that’s how a slut like you likes it.”

Like this, with your knees almost touching your ears, the tip of his cock hits your soft spot. A pathetic whimper comes from you as he grinds his cock into you, his eyes carefully watching your erotic expressions, figuring out what you like best.

Before long, he’s fucking into with vigor, his hips moving restlessly. His cock pounds into you mercilessly, the slap of skin against skin mixing with your cries. His mouth is at your throat, teeth skimming your jugular before he latches onto your thundering pulse. You helplessly claw at his shoulders, your fingers bunching into the fabric of his shirt. You’re so fucking full, your velvety walls clamping around his cock selfishly. A blend of curses and yes, fuck, you fucking slut fill your ears; he’s panting hard, a slight chuckle breaking through every once in a while.

“Fucking let everyone know who’s fucking you this good,” he grits. “Jesus, look at the mess you’re making…”

“Professor Bakugou!” you whine. “Your cock feels so good… Fuck, fuck, oh my god, yes-“

“Katsuki. My name is Katsuki.”

Katuski.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. It settles on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be let out.

It’s when you cum that you shout his name, your walls tightening around him harshly while your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders. A load groan rumbles from the depths of his chest as he follows suit shortly after, his hips moving erratically as his cum splashes against your insides.

The both of you are sweating, panting messes by the time he finally pulls out. You whimper as you clench around nothing, the emptiness a bit too much to bear. Surprisingly, Professor Bakugou – no, Katsuki – is gentle as he cleans you up, his free hand rubbing your side. Swallowing your pride, you clear your throat.

His eyes flick up, land on yours. “What.”

“Do you…” You worry your bottom lip. “Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

Katsuki snorts. “Wow, got a real fucking charmer here, don’t I? How about you come to my place instead and I make you a proper dinner. You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

As if on cue, your stomach growls. Well, you did deny Mina’s offer for dinner, after all. You smile nervously and give him a shrug.

Chest swelling (with pride, you assume), Katsuki flashes you a cocky smile. “I’m a damn good cook, brat. I’ll cook a meal that will have you weak in the knees.”

“Maybe… Maybe you could finally show me how to do that problem?” you offer.

He rolls his eyes. “Will you finally pay attention this time or will I have to pound it into your brain?”

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha smut #bnha smut #empress writes #tw age difference

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

“let me do this for you. please.” ; aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner (criminal minds) x reader

summary: it’s left to you to help aaron with his injury. taken from this prompt list - 1781 words

a/n: this is kind of shitty trash but i wanted to add to the one hotch fic ive written

Aaron Hotchner, in all his glory, is more often than not described as strict. Maybe even grumpy.

It takes less than one conversation with the unit chief to fully understand this, sometimes all it takes is witnessing the way he walks and holds himself, and he’s become somewhat notorious for it.

However, you know more about Hotch than the average person. More than either of you care to admit. For a while you were certain he hated you, definitely didn’t trust you, despite being highly trained and told again and again by your team that that’s just how Hotch is. Emily, especially, pulled you aside to tell you she was also victim to his cold persona at the beginning.

It takes time, she’d said, but he’ll warm up to you. He won’t be able to resist.

It all changed when he appeared at your apartment door several hours after you’d been discharged from the hospital following a gnarly gunshot wound to your shoulder. He stood there, with his famous furrowed brows, straight-mouth look on his face, cradling a basket. He’d made you a ‘get well soon’ package – your favourite candy (he knew that?), some DVDs (including your favourite – he knew that?), and his favourite book (written by your favourite author). There were fluffy socks and a colouring book, too.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital,” He’d said, “So Jack and I made you a gift basket. He chose the colouring book.”

In your stunned silence you didn’t ask any further questions, just took the present and contemplated getting shot again in hopes he would pay another visit, maybe come inside. Maybe fall in love with you. You’re not picky.

That night you realised your unit chief doesn’t hate you and you definitely don’t hate your unit chief.

Now, almost a year later, there’s been some big changes. You’re pushing Aaron onto his bed as he grips the top of his bleeding forearm; he’s mumbling curses under his breath while pouting – yes, pouting, no matter how much he’ll deny it when you tease him about it later. It had taken you raising your voice at him to convince him to let you help at all, let alone clean the cut, so you allow his brooding.

When you sit on your heels of his bedroom floor in front of him, he instinctively opens his mouth to, once again, say something along the lines of, “You don’t have to do this,” or “I can look after myself.”

You interrupt before he can even begin.

“If you refuse to go to the hospital, refuse to let an on-site medic come to you, you’re gonna let me help you, you got that?” You snap, fuelled by worry and frustration.

On the scene he’d refused medical attention, telling the medics to focus on the victims which, fair enough, was valid. But then Rossi had tried to drive him to the hospital, to get stitched up because anyone could see the cut on his arm needed it, and he’d argued and argued to the point where Rossi shoved him into your car and said, “You take him. He’s being a child and I am too old for this.”

He kept telling you to just drop him off home and he’ll be fine, but you couldn’t do that. You have a medical background; you’ve stitched up everyone on the team at least once, excluding Hotch, and you’ll get peace of mind if you do the job and know he’s okay.

You followed him inside, he kept telling you to go home because he’s fully capable, and you kept telling him to shut up. Now you’re here.

Aaron says nothing in return – just stares into your eyes and maintains a tight, strained posture.

You recognise the look in his eyes, then. Everything clicks into place in your head and your heart hurts slightly.

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

Aaron is a leader. A protector. He always has been. He trusts his team with his life, of course he does, but he’s also stubborn. The idea of anyone, let alone the one person who’s somehow wormed their way into his life in a way he hadn’t prepared for, seeing him so vulnerable after a stupid mistake led to an even stupider injury is downright humiliating for him.

He’s embarrassed. He hoped he could sulk home, drink a little too much whiskey as he clumsily cleaned himself up, and move on like nothing happened.

But it’s you, all non-judgemental eyes and worried tone with your caring and reassuring words. You’re too good for him. You’re too good to him.

You work slowly and gently, in a very you way, and Hotch watches closely the entire time. You assume he’s watching so he can do it himself next time, can use this as an excuse for you to not do this ever again, but a part of you wonders if he still doesn’t trust you.

He sits patiently, until he realises how much blood he’s lost and starts to feel woozy. It’s very possible he has a concussion, too, along with the exhaustion from not sleeping for at least twenty four hours. His head feels like it’s swimming and his vision gets a little blurry.

You notice him swaying and stop what you’re doing to hold his biceps to steady him. His eyes almost roll, but he seems to jolt himself out of it. Aaron has this disturbing ability to act as if nothing bad is happening – for example, right now. The blood loss is alarming, he just almost passed out, but it’s like he flicks a switch in his brain that decides nah, let’s not do that.

“You okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Brain almost collapsed.”

You think that’s an attempt at a joke. You’re too concerned to laugh, even fake it, and slowly move your arms back to the med kit you’re rifling through.

“Brain dumb.” He adds.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. Aaron surprises himself by wanting to cry at how beautiful you look.

“My name’s Aaron. You should call me it.”

You laugh quietly – the blood loss is beginning to get to him and he’s losing his professional barrier. The barrier that he lets down rarely, usually only when he’s in the comfort of his home, maybe relaxing with you and Jack. This is a special version of that, amplified by his injury.

“I’ll call you Aaron, then.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.”

He goes back to watching you, contentment coming off him in waves.

You’re done a few minutes later, Aaron’s cut all cleaned and stitched up. You wrap it in gauze and move the med kit aside, standing before him and sighing, hands on your hips.

“Alright. Bed time.” You say.

Aaron flops back on his bed, arms spread – it makes you giggle. It reminds you of the one time you had to bring drunk Hotch home.

“Move up, Aaron. Against your headboard.” You command.

As he moves, you grab some of the pillows he doesn’t use and place them under his legs to elevate them. You go to his ensuite and fill a glass of water, placing it on his bedside table, and look at the handsome unit chief seemingly asleep. You lean in closer to get a look at his condition – is he pale, cold, clammy?

His eyes snap open. You jump back in shock.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice is rough, he’d almost fallen asleep, and his dimples begin to show when he smiles at your surprise.

“I’ll always take care of you, Aaron.” You say instantly, trying to fluff the pillow behind his head. You don’t realise what you do to him, he thinks, or what the things you say do to him.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

You smile, ignorant to the way he’s looking at you, “You do take care of me. You take great care of the whole team, A. You’re kind of amazing at it.”

You move to tuck him in, like you’ve watched him do to Jack many times.

“I mean-“ He stops you, large hands holding your wrists, “Let me take care of you. No one else.”

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Me, Aaron, take care of you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I can take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh at the situation, the ridiculousness of how you’re going in circles, “I just told you that you take great care of me.”

He lets out a deep breath in exasperation, “Let me take care of you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds sexual, sir.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it-“ He cuts himself off, “I mean, yes, but no, at the same time.”

You open your mouth to say What?!

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.”

Oh.

You’re stunned, to say the least, and speechless. There’s nothing more you’d like than to go on a date with him, but he’s… vulnerable right now. Fragile. You’re not sure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation.

Hotch senses your hesitation before you even register it yourself. He begins to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s inappropriate-“

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” Despite the look on your face, filled with doubt, he’s still hopeful.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.” He smiles at that. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re concussed AND you’re exhausted. I can’t take what you say now as, like, gospel.”

He nod as if he understands, but the concoction of ailments he’s got going on make him incapable of truly recognising what’s going on. All he knows is that you said you’d really like to go out with him, and that’s good enough for him.

“Say this again tomorrow and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” You grin, now smoothing his hair away from his face as he blinks slowly at you.

“Make it worth my while, huh?” He sleepily smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. If he wasn’t on the brink of sleep you’re sure he’d look too good for you to handle, but now he just looks adorable.

“Oh yeah. So worth it.”

“Alright then. Night night. You can kiss me on the forehead, if you feel so inclined,”

You roll your eyes and give a big sigh jokingly, “Only because you’re injured.”

You lean, give a quick peck to his forehead, and his dazed gaze follows you like a magnet.

“See you tomorrow, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #i think i hate this #im not sure

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where-dreamers-go · 3 years

Text

James Conrad x Fem!Reader (Soulmate AU) Part One

(A/N: I wanted to experiment with another soulmate alternative universe. Predominantly in James’ point of view. This has been (slowly) in the works for a long while. Again, I went back to this now in 2021 when this was typed from a notebook in 2019. I kind of forgot about this one…my bad. So this is for @girl-next-door-writes Bingo Challenge~! Yeah, I know I have a few other insert readers that I’m working on, but this one was basically finished and I can’t believe I forgot about it. Part One, Erica? Yeah, I know...we get there when we get there. Bingo Card: Soulmates Warnings: Brief and vague mentions of people not surviving on Skull Island. Word Count: 3,246 words )

A world with ancient creatures long forgotten and slowly being remembered was an intricate puzzle. There were believers, those who were neutral, and those who spit negativity at the notion of something against their beliefs.

A society and world where soulmates could found one another on their own was exciting for the hopeful. Bioluminescent glow of the skin acted as a compass with one’s soulmate in place of North. A part of the body closest to the direction of one’s soulmate would glow. It could be the tip of a nose, an extended elbow, or any small pinpoint glow unless one’s soulmate was closer. The more near to one’s soulmate, the larger the glowing area.

✧ ✧ ✧

James’ skin never glowed more than the size of a small coin. He had traveled more than the average citizen. He had been a captain, Special Operations, but was a civilian once more as a hirable tracker. Yet agreeing to go aboard his last job changed everything. What he knew about the world and her creatures was altered. Skull Island was only a part of it all.

On top of being forced into Monarch’s containment and learning that there were other monsters out there around the world—his skin was glowing in large patches. It was distracting for himself and those with him. The others were getting quite interested and offering to help. As it had been glowing more noticeably since he and Mason were briefed on the ancient super species.

“I can handle it. Let’s stay on topic, shall we?” James asked, as he walked out of the concrete holding room.

“Are you sure? Because—,” the boy, Houston, swallowed his words at the quick glance from James. “Right.”

It was no secret that the two scientists, Houston Brooks and San Lin, found James’ glowing skin to be a big deal. Seeing someone’s skin glow about the size of their hand was nothing to ignore. Yet that was what James intended to do. There were larger situations to consider, especially as the two scientists took Mason and James to another area—finally—once they were on board.

“More of your skin is glowing,” said Mason, her voice hushed.

“I know.” James stated, but not as flatly as he intended to end the conversation.

“I wonder who it is,” Houston stated.

“Someone in Monarch definitely,” San added.

“Again, may we stay on topic?” James looked pointedly at each of his companions.

“Sorry.”

“Yes.”

He did not have a clear idea where they were being lead in the government building, but he did know it would lead to more information on the matters Monarch was involved in.

✧ ✧ ✧

Work had been left ignored, procrastinated for hours. Your eyes studying your own skin as its bioluminescence when you had walked through the compound and as you sat in your small office.

You were brought into Monarch almost a year ago with promises of knowledge and helping others. Your curiosity had sucked you in. It was a home, workplace, and life like no other. There were many surreal moments, definitely, considering ancient creatures not being just legends. Something a zoologist like yourself dove into researching.

You were happy. You had a purpose of helping others. The more you learned and researched, the more you felt actually fulfilled. Also, the more paperwork and notes you had pinned to the wall and filed onto your desk.

Seeing your skin’s soulmate glow broaden in size seemed more otherworldly than writing down a wingspan for Mothra.

Sighing, you rotated your forearm as the glow spread to your bicep.

This week just keeps getting more intense, you thought. First an expedition on Skull Island, now—

Knock knock

You quickly rolled down the sleeves of your shirt.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Houston walked in through the open doorway, “got a minute?”

“Sure.” You answered, standing from your seat.

Three more people walked into your office, one of which you recognized as San.

“May I help you?” You asked as you made an effort not to make any direct eye contact with the newcomers for at least a moment longer.

“Ah…” His eyes were on the man he had brought with him.

“Houston?”

He coughed before speaking and turning his attention elsewhere, “This is Mason Weaver—.”

“Hi.” Mason waved, a woman with dirty blonde hair.

“Hi,” you smiled and waved in return. The glow appearing out of your hand. You quickly tucked your hands behind your back. A glow then brightening your face.

“—And…this is James Conrad.”

“Hi.” The tall man swallowed dryly, his face and neck glowing warmly. Extremely obviously.

Oh, dear, you thought.

Clearly, out of everything that happened in the past week, he was not prepared for meeting his soulmate. Neither were you.

“Hi.” Your voice lacked the strength you were hoping to pull out of yourself for one second away from your work. Although it did not seem to hurt any of the introductions.

Quiet quickly took over your small office. Multiple pairs of eyes looked between you and the Mister Conrad. With your desk behind you, you were a cornered little mammal.

“So, what’s your job here?” Mason asked, breaking through the other’s silent stares.

“I’m a zoologist and here at Monarch I try to figure out how these species live—survive in their environments. Hoping to learn about their evolution and habits. Basically the animal kingdom.” You answered, your shoulders slacking some.

“She also has an interest in mythology, which is a great help to us,” Houston piped up.

“If I was more into cryptology it would make this a little more fun. If not give me a small head start when I first came here.”

“Speaking of head start…How much time do you think we have?” Mason asked.

“Time… Uh. Considering we survived this long as a species, how technology is progressing, and how your expedition unearthed some of the creatures….I would say that we still have time before the world—our society as a whole—knows them as facts. That much can be said.”

“That’s good news.”

“But that doesn’t mean all humans or even our technology will be prepared for their arrival or even living amongst them.”

“I’m not sure I want to live next door to one of them,” Houston pointed out.

“The creatures already live here. They were here first.” San added.

“We are the ones who must adapt.” James said, arms crossed over his chest.

Your breath came in quickly as your eyes reminded you of the man’s own bioluminescence. It covered all of his arms’ skin that was visible from his short-sleeve shirt. Mesmerizing you in thoughts that seemed too supernatural and much too distracting for the topic at hand.

“Are we not gonna talk about you two’s skins glowing?” Houston asked, jolting you out of your thoughts.

You straightened up hastily.

“Learning all we can about ancient creatures that could possibly destroy the human race and other creatures of the world comes first.” You said, though perhaps more to yourself. It wasn’t entirely a ‘no’.

“Agreed.” James stated, arms still crossed and glowing.

You had only taken a glimpse at him from the corner of your eye.

“Alright,” Houston drew out the word. “The world is top priority.”

“As it should,” San added. “And we should show Mason and James the other wing. Show them their rooms and where they can eat.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Mason said as she turned towards the door.

“Likewise,” you smiled.

“A pleasure,” James said shortly before leaving just before Mason.

Houston and San gave their short goodbyes as they left you to your work.

You plopped down onto your chair. Heart thumping loudly in your chest, you shuttered as you let out a breath of air.

“He’s here.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Mason and James were shown more of the facility on the way to the living area. A whole opposite wing inside of the secret facility where those in Monarch could stay. It was impressive. Their separate rooms would be the final stop on the tour.

James wondered if there would be no leaving that place. After time, would he want to?

I’m going to have to help people. I’m alright with that. If they need help—the world, I’ll do what I can. He thought as he counted off the doors they passed.

Houston and San lead the way.

“I can’t believe you didn’t stay and talk with her,” Mason declared from beside James. “Actually I can. Nevermind.”

“There’s no time.” James said.

“That’s a poor excuse for someone who just heard that we do have time. Years even.”

“But would it be worth it?” He countered.

“That’s up to you and her. You could also learn a lot more about this place.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about this place for one day.”

He knew that Mason was trying to bait him, but also to genuinely help. It wasn’t an everyday thing to hear about someone finding their soulmate; let alone see it happen.

It had to happen this way, didn’t it?

When night fell and James was finally alone, he was reminded of everything he had pushed to the back of his mind. Well fed and cleaned up, he laid in bed. He could not help but to stare at the glowing of his skin on his left side. It meant that you did not leave the facility either. Could you though? He reached out his left arm and watched as his entire hand glowed. Bright whites and warm yellow tones. Even when he was in the UK his skin never glowed more than the size of his thumb. His soulmate was there. Alive and healthy.

He sighed.

Normally he would not even think about his soulmate or even remember about a glowing patch of his skin because it was always out of sight or not enough to notice. Too many changes and discoveries. Then he met you. However brief of a meeting, James had felt something spark in his mind and his veins. Somewhere in him, he felt a connection. An interest that rooted itself inside of him where he could not see.

Closing his eyes, James settled with his thoughts.

She’s safe. That’s what’s important.

✧ ✧ ✧

James awakened from his half-sleep state from a knocking on the room’s only door. Rolling out of bed, he walked to see who needed to see him. It was not until his entire front was glowing brighter than yesterday did he know for certain who was behind the door. He flicked on the room light. Sleep faded from his mind completely.

He took a breath in.

Upon opening the door, he did not mind greeting who he saw.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smiled all tense with your face all aglow.

A small smile curled his lips.

Guess it didn’t take her long to figure out which room I was in.

“I’m sorry if it’s too early.” You said, voice hushed.

“It’s fine. Truly.”

“I was just…wondering if you were okay.”

He could of laughed at the statement, but he chose against it.

“Considering I was lucky to return alive from an island full of monsters, was taken against my will to be brought here, was shown a presentation of other monsters on the planet, and still haven’t left this place—I would have to say that simply ‘okay’ doesn’t quite fit.”

Silence filled the hall.

James felt a twinge of guilt seeing the mixture of hurt on your face unfiltered. Your fingers intertwined tightly. He waited to hear what you would say.

You finally found words you wanted to share, “Monarch tends to be a bit dramatic and secretive, but I think that’s because it’s difficult for Monarch as a whole to find people they can trust.”

“They seem to trust you a great deal.”

“I’ve just gathered information. I’m a zoologist and I also want to make sense of what our world really is—but that doesn’t mean I’ll figure out everything we should even know about one of these creatures. I do my best. I don’t go out recruiting or anything. I haven’t even been out in the field in months.”

He saw more than he had yesterday how the subjects at hand were making you distressed. Seen from how your eyes looked panicked and you hid your hands in the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry for what you went through on the island. No one should have gotten hurt or…,” your voice trailed off.

“Each of us knew the risks—to a degree.”

“But you weren’t told the truth. It wasn’t fair.”

James leaned against the doorway. New thoughts coming forward in his mind.

“Were you available to go to Skull Island?”

“I—,” you cocked your head at him before your eyes glanced elsewhere. “Bill Randa told me to look over my research. Basically like writing a second draft to a paper. He told me that I was missing something. But…we didn’t have any new information coming in at the time.”

“Any chance he was wary of whether or not you would have told those he hired why we were really there?”

That would have been helpful. But Houston and San did not say anything either.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never told a secret before. Not that any of this is really a secret. It’s more like myths and stories that people wouldn’t likely believe at first glance.”

He watched as you rubbed your arms still deep in thought.

James straightened up.

“Would you care to come in? I think we’ve stood out here long enough.” He smiled.

You smiled kindly in return.

“Would it be alright if we talked about something other than monsters?” You inquired.

“Sure. Did you have anything in mind?” He dearly hoped you were not going to ask about the War or that part of his past that interested most others.

No doubt she had heard something from Houston or San. Or she asked.

To his surprise and only partial relief, you held up a single glowing finger.

Right. That.

James’ chest rose and fell before he nodded in agreement. The man moved back inside the room given to him and held the door open as you gingerly entered.

As you passed him the side of your face glowed a bright white that his eyes seemed to follow without a second thought.

Seconds ticked by and you were both still standing around and not sure what to do as you both glowed, keeping a distance.

You rose your eyebrows, amused with the silence.

One of us has to say something, he thought.

What was there to say? It was not the most ideal of circumstances around.

“I…I must apologize for being so blunt when we met.” James said. “Everything has just been adding up and piling on more information. I didn’t want to put any of that emotion towards you. None of this was expected.”

“It’s alright. I mean, I always figured I’d miss my chance at meeting my—uh, you know…”

James nodded.

“Because of my work and usually being inside or one place. Not really moving around. Plus I figured I’d somehow walk right passed or something and not notice because I’m focused on other things.”

“Your work is important to you. That’s good.”

“Yeah,” you smiled a bit as you rested your hands on your hips. “Nothing like good work ethic in something your interested in. Though right now it’s quite the topics.”

Narrowing his eyes for a moment, James figured you were talking about more than just monsters. About him, perhaps?

We keep dancing around the soulmate subject. What do we even want? What do I want?

“It’d been nice to focus on other things.” You said.

What?

The corner of your lips quirked up as you looked at him.

“Things about what other people do or are interested in.” You clarified. You had read his expression well enough.

“I’m not sure what information I could offer.” James stated softly. “I was still a tracker for hire when Monarch offered me the job.” He had not entirely wanted to bring that up to you, however there was not much else. How personal did he want to be? This was the most time he had spent in your presence since meeting you the day before. To him, you did not seem the radical type like those he encountered while on Skull Island. Time would tell when he would open up more to you. Even the whole soulmate subject was a heavy topic.

You seemed determined enough to push through the conversation.

“Could…,” you pressed your lips together in a tight line. Eyes no longer meeting his. “This is probably extremely personal, but—if you wanted to…would you had been able to find me on your own?”

“The glowing would had made it exceedingly easier. Yes.”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“Would you?” He asked.

Eyes returning to his, your shoulders perked higher. You shook your head.

“Even working for Monarch, I couldn’t.” You said quietly. “I think it worked out though.” You shrugged, trying to defend your happiness of meeting James.

She really is happy to have met me. Finding me though…That’s what I figured, he thought. She can’t travel the world with her expertise without support. She couldn’t have been able to find me in Vietnam. Seeing her office, she probably would had been helpful on the trip. He froze at his thoughts. No. That would had been terrible.

“I know that we agreed not to speak about any more monsters, however,” he inhaled visibly, “I am glad that you were not on that expedition.”

“Why?” Your question was out of curiosity not pride.

“Your presence would had made it more complicated. None of it would have been of your own doing. Rather, uh, the stakes would have been higher. Greater.”

Just the start of his mind thinking about if you there bothered him. The creatures, the people, unknown environment they found themselves in, and the secrets that were held.

“Oh…that sort of makes sense.”

“Sorry,” he took a step closer to you. “It’s just there were guns being pointed to anyone who disagreed with the Lieutenant Colonel. And if you were there I’m sure he would have used you as leverage or had threatened you or worse. Our glowing skins would have made us easy targets.”

“Not to forget the wildlife as I heard briefly.”

“That too. I’m so glad you weren’t there and I say that with much respect to you.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

That didn’t sound forward, did it?

“At least this is a much more safer environment to get to know one another.” James said.

At the closer proximity he could see that even the tip of your nose was glowing. He had never seen someone’s entire face illuminated before. To know it was from his presence, gave him an emotion he could not immediately place.

“How long do you plan on staying?”

The question struck him deep. James had not even left Vietnam when the war was over and even in Monarch he was not sure where he would stay. Was there a place for him in Monarch? He was a tracker and they were discovering monsters who lived below the Earth’s surface. He could find work there, but could he find a life there?

“As long as I am needed.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

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**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#James Conrad #James Conrad x reader #James Conrad x fem!reader #James Conrad fanfiction #Kong: Skull Island fanfiction #where dreamers go #Captain James Conrad #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #soulmate au #James Conrad soulmate au #well this took me a few years to finally upload

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blitheringmcgonagall · 4 years

Text

Nah, He Didn’t... Jilytober Prompt #25

This is for @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world who made the list of prompts and is a star 😘😘😘😘

Prompt #25: 7th Year Lily thinking James is no longer interested in her…

(Btw, I am not a fan AT ALL of James chasing after an unrequiting Lily for ages, that stalkerish behaviour is more Snape, if anyone, and in canon James only asks her out once, just reminding you all…)

Nah, He Didn’t

It was freezing cold outside and Lily wrapped her fleece-lined cloak around her tightly as she wandered off towards the Great Lake on that blustery morning. She hadn’t slept particularly well, and she needed to wake up before starting school. She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned widely, then blinked. A fluffy, large, black dog was trotting towards her, wagging its tail joyfully.

“Ooooh, look at you!” she cooed warmly, hunkering down as the dog approached her. “Aren’t you a dote? Such a gorgeous dog!”

The dog barked enthusiastically as though in complete agreement.

“Of course you are,” Lily said, rubbing behind the dog’s ears. “I’m sure you get told that all the time!”

The dog made a sound half-way between a laugh and a bark, wagging its tail with enthusiasm.

“Big-headed git,” Lily snorted, ruffling the soft hair on the dog’s head affectionately.

The dog’s chin shot up.

“Oh, a bit defensive, are we?” Lily quipped.

The dog sniffed.

“Fair enough, unlike some big-headed gits, you actually have something to be vain about,” she said, with a sigh.

The dog cocked its head to one side, as though listening attentively. It did the trick.

“Don’t get me started,” Lily muttered crossly. “I really, really need to cop on and move on. I mean, there was a stupid rumour in Fifth Year that he liked me, which was bollocks.”

The dog’s eyes grey wide.

“Nah, he didn’t, utter bollocks,” Lily amended, sitting down on the damp ground with a huff. “But then last year, we were getting on really well, and I started seeing him differently, you know…”

The dog moved closer to her and his ears pricked up.

“Fine, I started liking him, as in, you know, liking liking him,” Lily said, as the dog’s eyebrows shot up. “Whatever, fancying him rotten, alright? Satisfied? Ugh! I’m such an idiot! I never hated him, not really, it’s just that we were always annoying each other, engaging in verbal battles and whatnot, I mean I think we both liked spending time with each other, despite the sassy remarks, or maybe because of them.”

She stared moodily ahead of her, which meant she missed the startled and frankly shocked look that the black dog gave her.

“Which was fine. It was nice being friends with James, he’s a nice person, you know?” she added.

The dog barked at her pointedly and thumped his tail against the ground.

“And then this year, when I heard he was Head Boy, I was delighted initially. We got to spend loads of extra time together and I got to see more sides to him and, and… and it’s been rubbish! I can’t concentrate on anything when he’s nearby, I keep seeing all these adorable sides to him that I never knew existed, and his bedroom is next door to mine. Next Door! You don’t want to know the number of times I’ve seen him come in from Quidditch practice with his uniform stuck to his toned abs and biceps and Merlin…”

She sighed deeply and the dog whined.

“Oh dear! Are you not feeling well?” Lily asked.

The dog groaned.

“And then after seeing him looking so hot, gone to bed and dreamt we had a row and made up and then I was tearing his quidditch uniform off and-“

The dog let out a huge yelp. Lily huffed with annoyance and ripped some blades of grass.

“So then as he’s so clearly not interested in my any more, if he ever really was-“

The dog dropped his head onto the grass and whined loudly.

“I decided the only way to address this was by us both dating other people. Excellent idea, I thought,” she said.

The dog looked at her as though she had grown two heads.

“Except it’s been an unmitigated disaster. Helping him get changed and deciding what to wear on his date with Miranda Carlisle? Helping him think of where to take Lelli Kumar on their first date? IT WAS A NIGHTMARE, Snuffles!”

The dog growled under his breath and sank his chin further into the grass.

“Well, I don’t know what your name is, love, and Snuffles is sweet,” Lily said, with a wicked grin at the grumpy looking dog.

“And as for asking James’ advice on what to wear on that cringeful date with Jack Meadows? Merlin, it was a disaster! The worst was probably the day we were both going on separate dates and spent an entire afternoon trying to be all supportive and encouraging with each other. I was so sick of it all, I said to him maybe we should just forget about our dates and go on a date together instead, save us all the hassle,” Lily said, making a face.

The dog sat up suddenly and his right ear shot up.

“How much more bloody obvious can you get, right? And he said yeah, we should,” Lily said, imitating James’ deeper voice and throwing herself down on her back with a huge sigh. “And then we both just stood there, like idiots, and went on our respective dates. I mean, he’s clearly not into me at all, is he?”

The dog let out a strangled sound.

“I know, so embarrassing! And another time when we were bitching about the stress of dating people you don’t know, I literally said I’d prefer to just go on a date with you James. And you know what he said?” Lily said, turning her neck to look at the dog.

“I’d go on a date with you any time you want, Evans, you just need to ask,” Lily said, mimicking James’ flirty tone and ruffling her hair.

The dog looked at her expectantly.

“So I said now would be nice, Potter, and he laughed and said please stop taking the piss, Evans, I can’t cope with you,” she groaned. “Well obviously I didn’t ask him again after that, not when he was just saying it to be nice!”

She huffed and stuck her hands behind her head. The dog flopped sideways onto the grass as though momentarily incapacitated.

“Bloody boys!” she muttered. “They’re all stupid!”

The dog gave a small bark, as though disagreeing.

“Take Sirius and Remus, both totally head over heels in love with each other, both totally clueless!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know what either of them needs to do in order for the other one to realise it! Sirius sits in class gazing at the back of Remus’ head like he’s staring at a work of art, and Remus fell over his schoolbag cause he was staring at Sirius when he came in after a Quidditch match. I’m pretty sure Mc Gonagall knows it, she keeps giving them detention together for no good reason!”

The dog made a distressed sound, like it was choking, and Lily sat up.

“Are you alright, you poor thing?” she said, petting his back fondly, and watching as a particularly fit Quidditch Captain and Head Boy walked over towards them.

“He always looks particularly well in his tight quidditch top, showing off his toned forearms with the beautiful veins on the back of his hands and arms. I have a thing about his hands and his arms, and his eyes, and his smile,” she whispered to the dog, who made a hacking noise.

“You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t get back to sleep so I did some practice,” said James.

“If that dog’s annoying you, Evans, just send him on his way,” he added, folding the aforementioned beautiful arms, and looking at the dog with a raised brow.

The dog whined and squeezed in beside Lily.

“Leave him alone, Potter! Snuffles is a delight!” she glared back.

“Snuffles?” James snorted and beamed at the black dog. “Oh, Snuffles is pure joy.”

The dog sulked..

“You, er, you wouldn’t be available to help me with those prefect rosters later, would you, Potter?” she said, twisting her hair with embarrassment.

“Yeah, sure, no problem at all,” said James, looking at her wistfully. “I’m just going to shower before school starts.”

Lily stared after him.

“You know, you really aught to stop swooning over his arse, like an idiot, and ask him out, properly.”

“Sirius! Where did you spring out of!” Lily said, clearing her throat and giving him an unmerciful dig with her elbow.

“Ouch!” Sirius yelped, rubbing his arm fretfully. “I mean it.”

Lily rolled her eyes and linked her arm with his.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Where did the cute dog go?”

“The cute dog who’s definitely not called Snuffles? I have no idea,” Sirius said breezily.

Lily looked around her distractedly.

“Lily, there’s something you should know,” Sirius said. “Boys are very, very stupid. Significantly more stupid than you’d expect. Never underestimate how stupid boys are.”

“Oh,” Lily said. “Right.”

“Right. Now. I dare you to ask James out, properly,” he said, raising his arched brow at her. “And if you do, I promise to ask out Remus Lupin.”

She stared at him.

“Well?” he said.

Her face split into a huge grin.

“Well, in that case, as a purely platonic thing, to help you two get your act together,” she beamed and squeezed his arm in excitement.

“Platonic, my arse,” Sirius said. “Shall we?”

Lily grit her teeth and nodded.

He grabbed her hand and raced with her towards the castle.

#jilytober 2020 #jilytober #jily #jily drabble #prompts #hope you like it #silly fluff

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nikarmy · 3 years

Text

Equilibration ~ Prologue

Masterlist

Pairing: Waterbender! Jungkook x fem!Firebender Reader feat platonic!Bts

Genre: The Last Airbender Au, fluff, angst, kinda slowburn, s2l

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: judgemental stares in public, cursing, slight inner aggressiveness (how do you call that?), self hatred, mentions and descriptions of war, childhood trauma, flashbacks, reader is insecure af, mentions of killed people and humans screaming out of fear,

The looks from the passengers started to intimidate you.

How should one react to unwanted attention? Stare back, insult them, ask them what's wrong, or put their powers to good use and knock them down? Fuck no. That's not the right thing to do.

But the old lady in the olive robe has been fixating her gaze on you since she entered the train, only stopping her inspection when a young man offered his seat to her 5 minutes ago. Unfortunately, as soon as she made herself comfortable on the metal bench, she restarted her action.

Her face looks remarkably punchable to you right now.

Red was never your favourite colour.

In fact, you despise it, even though it perfectly described you.

Anger, Aggressiveness and Harshness. Perhaps that's why you've been considered as a prodigy and as one of the most gifted trainees back in the fire nation. You are basically the embodiment of the hot flames, symbolizing destruction and war.

You hate it. And now your red attire made you hate the colour even more, as the result was having judging looks on you all the time.

Teachers, parents and elders of the fire nation always tell stories and legends about the benders of their kind, emphasizing their heroic actions, and everyone listens to them attentively.

Although you know these stories by heart, you longed for more, for a view outside of the borders that separate your people from the other elements.

You read folk stories of waterbenders, earthbenders and airbenders, satisfying your curiosity by practically studying their culture.

But the more you learned about the peaceful water tribe, the disciplined people of the earth kingdom and the imaginative

air nomads, the more you felt ashamed about the fire nation, about yourself.

The insecurities grew as your father forced you to join the military as a soon – to – be soldier at the tender age of 8. He wanted to “use your abilities to good use”, so you just went with the flow and trained along with other talented students, destined to end the war in a brutal way and make their parents proud.

Years went by, and not too long ago, marking a week now to be exact, you went on your first “mission” to a city of the earth kingdom, whose name you don't even know, to occupy them and take over their land in a brutal way.

The pictures of killed people and destroyed houses are engraved to your brain, highlighted by the destructive flames surrounding a once peaceful town. You'll never forget the children screaming on top of their lungs and the parents begging for their lives.

The next sleepless nights you sat at your desk and started making plans on how to escape the fire nation, whilst writing a goodbye note to your family and trying to persuade them to not search after you.

And now, days later, you are standing in a train to Ba Sing Se, not even having a clue on what to do next. Your backpack consists of a bottle of water, some sparing clothes (but still not much), your toothbrush and money.

Finally you hear the male voice on the speaker say the awaited words: “Ba Sing Se Central Station”. You leave out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding, glad to be at your destiny and also glad to get out of the stinking train with the rude old lady.

During your targetless walk through the city, you notice a lot of eyes on you, and to be honest, you don't blame them, you hate firebenders too.

So you guess a new start also means a new appearance, right? Luckily you walk past a thrift shop. Its appearance is very pretty, the building is made out of wood and warm tones, the curtains which could be seen behind the big windows were a light shade of green, above the small door you could see golden calligraphy spelling “Kim's Thrift Shop” in all it's pride. It's not modern, but it looks comfortable.

At exactly that moment you choose to enter and change your black and red attire to search for one with a colour that is much less hated, like blue, yellow or green.

Entering the shop you immediately face a young man behind the counter, and you swear you've never seen a more handsome human being before.

He had perfect features, his broad shoulders and his tall figure instantly catching your attention. His raven black hair was voluminous. He could easily pass as a prince.

As much as you drooled over him as a result of his striking lineaments, he looked at you, well, weirdly. That wouldn't surprise you if he looked at you like you were his enemy, just like the other people here, but he stared at you, like you were some kind of god. Like he is genuinely happy that you entered the store. His eyes light up with hope.

“FUCKING FINALLY! NAMJOON LOCK THE DOORS!”

What. The. Hell.

Never in your life have you been so confused. Does he want to kidnap you? Oh fuck he wants to kill you.

The only logical thing to do right now is turning around and leave the shop. And you do just that.

But as soon as you can grab the door knob with your right hand, another one holds it, preventing you from fleeing.

You look who this hand belongs to, and next to you stands a man with blue hair and tan skin. His biceps and height frighten you and you realize that you're in big trouble. He has a tight hold on your forearm and leads you to the backroom of the shop in a quick pace, behind you the black haired cashier.

The backroom looked comfortable, the carpeted floor creating a cozy feeling. But the atmosphere was the complete opposite.

Here you stand, surrounded by five boys. You inspect each other and you realize that two of them are airbenders.

There stands the cashier, then your eyes land on the guy who held your forearm as if his life depended on it, and a third guy who sat on the sofa. His appearance was remarkably charming, full lips, blond hair, round face and soft features, he was quite short compared to the others. All three of them have green clothing on, so you assume that they are earthbenders.

But what really catches your attention are the last two guys. They wear yellow and red robes, both of them having a blue arrow drawn through the middle of their foreheads.

You've never seen an airbender before.

“So umm sorry if we scared you back there” the blue haired guy interrupts your thoughts. “But we are really desperate for someone like you right now”

“Someone like... me?” You curiously ask.

“Yes. The guy there..”

he points to one of the airbenders. The boy has wavy dark hair and as soon the blue guy mentions him he flashes you a cute boxy smile.

“This is Tae. Short for Taehyung. He is someone special. You see, for how long has the last avatar died?”

“70 years ago.” you reply. It's true, Avatar Aang died many years ago, and that at the time the world needed him the most. If he was still here, the war could have been prevented before it even escalated.

“Yeah” he answered “Tae is the next one”.

You gasp lightly and feel your eyes coming out of their sockets from having them wide open in shock.

The avatar is standing right in front of you.

“And we are searching for different benders who can teach him in all the elements. See, we kind of established a secret alliance against the Fire Lord, to end the war. He already knows that the avatar came back and is searching for Tae like crazy, we had to move out of our hidings four times now because he always managed to find us. Now we have to find teachers quickly, the sooner the better. Tae has to learn to be a great avatar so he can fight against the Lord. We thought we would never find someone from the Fire Nation, but then you came. Are you a firebender?”

“Yes?”

“Perfect, you're exactly who we're looking for. We'll cut you a deal. Since we assume you're not a spy, we ask you to be Taes teacher in mastering the art of firebending. In return, you'll get to live with us and we'll give you food for free. Jin is a great cook. I know this is a lot of information to handle right now, but what do you think?”

You didn't even think twice about it. Even though you don't know these guys, what do you have to loose? It's not like you had plans anyway. And stopping the fire nation seems to be just the right thing for you right now. And finally you can use your skills to good use, not for war.

“I'm in.”

Later you get introduced to all of them. The Avatar, Taehyung, is an airbender, and you swear you've never seen someone who behaves this childish before. But it's not a bad childish, in fact, it makes you feel jubilant. Maybe because his bright ambience makes up for the childhood you never had, the childhood you spent in training and learning that brutality is the way to power, and power is everything.

The guy with the blue hair is Namjoon, an earthbender and Taes teacher in that field. He seems like the leader of the group, always explaining and answering your questions.

The black haired handsome guy is Jin, a nonbender. He felt very excited when you said yes to joining them.

The other airbender is Hobi and also Taes teacher, the first thing you realize about him is his very contagious smile.

The blond dude is Jimin, a nonbender who is from an earth kingdom village.One day he knocked on their door of the shop and wanted to thrift there. But instead of finding clothes, he started talking to Tae who sat behind the counter. The Avatar liked him so much that he insisted on having him join the “Gang”.

The thrift shop actually belongs to Jins aunt, and sometimes, when he's in Ba Sing Se, he has to work here. It's also a good place to hide from the Fire Lord.

“So we need a waterbender too?” you examined.

“Yes” Namjoon was the only one to answer again “We have to travel to one of the tribes to find one. It won't be that hard.”

a/n: Thanks for reading! I would like to apologize if it’s bad, I’m not very content with my writing style, but I am working on it, since it’s my first fic and I have a long way to go:) What do you think?

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook fantasy au #bts x reader #bts fic #bts imagines #bts au #bts atla au #bts fanfction

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