#and they really form a beautiful bond with you

[suguslve]

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— DO I LOOK LIKE HER? part ii

synopsis: in which you, the new human transfer in Devildom realize bit by bit that you are only seen as a replacement for Lilith.

part i. part iii.

♰ pairings. obey me brothers x fem! Reader

♰ genre. angst

♰ word count. 2.2k

♰ a/n. haha...hey...i know its been so long since i posted part 1 but you can't blame me! i've been swamped with school and lost the motivation to write, so this is my apology pls accept it </3 enjoy reading and don't forget to lmk your thoughts! (p.s. im so sorry that lucifer's part was so short ehe)

Over time, you began to notice the small things, the subtle gestures that hinted at something you couldn’t quite grasp. The brothers were kind to you, undeniably so. They treated you with warmth and affection, and you had grown close to each of them, bonding in ways that made you feel at home in the Devildom. But there was something... slightly off about it all, something you couldn’t shake.

You had formed a close relationship with Mammon, finding it easier to bond and connect with him in comparison to his other brothers. It wasn't just that he was loud or impulsive, or that he often dragged you into crazy schemes—there was something in his eyes when he looked at you, something softer, more genuine. With him, you felt less like a replacement and more like a person—your person, but boy were you mistaken.

One random evening, Mammon had barged into your room, grinning like he always did, but in his hand was a bouquet of flowers. They were lilies. The kind with soft white petals and delicate purple hues that seemed to shimmer in the light. 

“Here ya go. I just! found them on my way back home…” He handed them over to you, a soft blush painting his features. “They’re special….I guess.” 

You gave him a soft smile before standing on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Mammon. They're lovely."

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little awkward. “Well, uh... Lilith used to love these, thought you’d like ‘em too.”

At that, your smile faltered, and your gaze lingered on the flowers. Lilith, huh? You question if the gift was really meant for you or if they were meant for her. You shook your head slightly and met his eyes again, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Thanks. But, um... I’m really tired, so if you don’t mind, could you leave?"

He looked taken aback but nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah, of course. Rest well, Y/N." You closed the door softly and immediately walked to the trash bin, you grabbed the flowers and tossed them inside. You hated lilies.

But the lilies were just the beginning.

Lucifer followed soon after.

He knocked on your bedroom door one evening, holding a small, ornate music box, intricate carvings polished to perfection. “This is for you.” he stated before opening it, a beautiful melody filling not only the room but the whole house as well. You stood there, in awe, yet something about it made your chest tighten.

“This belonged to Lilith,” he said, his voice soft. “She was enamored with it, bringing it everywhere we went and playing with it. I thought you might like it as much as she did.”

“Thank you.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand shook before taking the box. Lucifer nodded, his gaze lingering on the music box for a moment longer. He then bid you goodnight, walking back towards his room, you noticed the faintest trace of a sigh escape him, as though the act of handing over that music box had taken something from him. As soon as he left, you placed it on a high shelf, far out of sight.

Leviathan’s room was dim—the only source of light coming from his monitor. It was another one of your late night anime watching sessions and you had both stayed up all night binge-watching a newly released anime. You sat beside him, wrapped in a blanket he had tossed your way earlier, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but you were just too invested to stop.

“Okay, okay, this is finally the last episode.” Levi said, barely containing his excitement. “This is gonna be so good.” You chuckled at his enthusiasm, adjusting your position on the couch. “Alright then, hit play already!”

As the opening credits rolled, Levi shot you a glance before grinning. “You know… the main character kinda reminds me of you.” You raised a brow. “Oh? How so?”

Levi gestured toward the screen. “Just look at them! Their whole vibe—the way they act, the way they talk, even some of their features!—it’s just so you.” Curious, you turned your attention fully to the character in question. They had a quiet strength to them, a soft but determined presence. And yet, as the scene unfolded, your stomach twisted.

Because the character didn’t remind you of yourself. They reminded you of her.

The resemblance to Lilith was undeniable—the same gentle eyes, the same way they carried themselves, the way they spoke, even the way they looked all felt eerily familiar. Your heart sank as you realized what Levi was seeing.

He wasn’t seeing you.

You swallowed, forcing a small laugh. “You think so?” Levi nodded enthusiastically, completely unaware of the weight behind his words. “Yeah! It’s uncanny. Maybe that’s why I felt comfortable around you so quickly—it’s like I already knew you.”

Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes. So that was it. Even here, in a world separate from reality, you were still standing in someone else’s shadow.

Next came Satan. 

It was a quiet afternoon, and you had wandered far from the House of Lamentation, seeking peace and quiet. Seated on a bench, you immersed yourself in a random book from the library, enjoying the peace.

A soft ‘meow’ pulled you from your reading. Glancing up, you spotted a small black kitten approaching, its green eyes warm and curious. Setting your book aside, you cooed at the tiny creature, extending a hand to beckon it closer.

You picked it up softly, making contact with its soft fur. The cat looked at you curiously before meowing once more. Your heart softened at it, and you placed it on your lap, petting it slowly. The cat’s eyes became more and more droopy, and soon after it fell asleep.

Smiling, you reached for your D.D.D. to capture the moment—only to pause at the sound of a quiet chuckle behind you.

Turning quickly, you found Satan watching you, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“You’re good with cats.” Satan remarked, stepping closer before seating himself beside you. His voice was smooth, but there was something softer in it than usual—something almost fond.

You relaxed slightly, offering a small smile as you glanced down at the sleeping kitten in your lap. “I think this little one just likes me.” you said, running a gentle hand over its fur.

He watched the kitten with adoration, petting it softly as well. “You’re quite similar to Lilith.” he murmured and you froze at the mention of her name. “Animals were drawn to her, especially cats. She had this… certain gentleness about her.”

Your fingers stilled, the weight of his words settling over you like a familiar shadow. Here it was again. Another moment, another memory that wasn’t really yours. When will it end?

You were out shopping with Asmodeus, hopping from store to store. Your feet ached unbearably, but despite the discomfort, you found yourself enjoying the moment. He was going on and on about the latest fashion trends and gossip, and you smiled as you listened, entertained by his enthusiasm.

His rambling came to an abrupt stop when his eyes landed on a fragrance shop. With a delighted squeal, he grabbed your hand and eagerly pulled you inside.

The shop was filled with soft, ambient lighting and shelves lined with elegant glass bottles, each containing a different scent. The air was thick with floral, citrus, and musky undertones, blending together into something almost intoxicating.

Asmodeus let go of your hand and immediately darted from display to display, picking up bottles and spritzing them onto tester strips. Meanwhile, you wandered through the shop at your own pace, picking up bottles and sampling various scents, searching for a new one that suited you.

You had just found a light, floral fragrance that you liked when Asmodeus turned to you and gasped dramatically. “Oh! That one!” he exclaimed, holding up the sleek glass bottle. His eyes shimmering with excitement as he spritzed some onto his wrist. “You’ve got good taste Y/N! You know, Lilith also loved this scent! She used to wear it all the time—it was practically made for her.”

Your face fell at the mention of her name once more. God, why does everything have to be about her?

“You should buy it!” he insisted. “I just know it’ll smell amazing on you—just like it did on her.”

You hesitated, staring down at the delicate bottle. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have.

“Go on.” he urged, smiling brightly. “It’ll be perfect on you.” Just like how it was perfect for Lilith.

Then it was Beelzebub. 

You were sitting in the living room, scrolling mindlessly on your D.D.D. Your attention was then interrupted when you heard the main entrance open and close. Beelzebub walked towards you, a smile evident on his soft features, he was holding what looked like a basket of pastries, the sweet aroma filling the air.

“Hey Y/N! I was over at this new pastry shop earlier and look what I got!” He said excitedly, you smiled up at him before he picked one out of the bunch and handed it over to you. It was a strawberry flavored bread, your favorite. You took it from him, about to thank him before he beat you to it. 

“That was Lilith’s favorite!” he said, his voice tinged with a rare gentleness. “I thought you’d like to try it.” You stared at the pastry on your hand, your appetite vanishing. 

“Oh…Thanks, Beel.” you murmured, disappointment evident in your voice. He smiled up at you before heading to his room, surely to eat the rest of the pastries, while you sat there, staring at the bread before placing it in the fridge and walking back to your room.

The bread sat untouched on the refrigerator for days until they went bad, and you threw them away.

You sat hunched over your desk, your room dimly lit by the soft glow of your lamp. The assignment in front of you was due tomorrow, but the words on the page blurred together, your exhausted mind struggling to focus.

This had become your routine—staying up late, drowning yourself in schoolwork, anything to keep your thoughts from spiraling. The dark circles under your eyes had deepened over the past few weeks, proof of just how little rest you were getting.

But it wasn’t just the assignments keeping you up. It was them. 

A soft knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could respond, it creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Belphegor.

He rubbed his eyes, looking just as sleepy as ever, but there was something different in his expression—something more aware, more concerned. He didn’t say anything at first, just took in the sight of you, the exhaustion weighing heavy on your frame.

“…You’re not sleeping.” His voice was quiet, but certain. It wasn’t a question. You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve got a lot to do.” Belphegor didn’t respond right away. Instead, he walked closer, something bundled in his arms. When he reached your side, he held it out to you. A thick, worn blanket.

You blinked at it, hesitant. “What’s this?” He didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke. “It was Lilith’s.”

Oh.

“She always used it when she couldn’t sleep.” he continued, voice softer now. “Said it made her feel safe.”

Your throat tightened as you stared at the fabric in his hands. Still, you reached out, your fingers brushing against the fabric. It was soft, familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been.

“Thanks.” you murmured, forcing a smile. Belphegor nodded, watching you for a moment longer before turning away. “Get some sleep.” he muttered before slipping out of the room.

You held the blanket close, staring down at it, your chest heavy with something you couldn’t name. You were being given another piece of her.

It wasn’t just the gifts that hurt—it was the way they looked at you. Like they were searching for pieces of her in you, hoping to fill the void she’d left behind. Each gift came with the same unspoken message: You’re not Lilith, but we wish you were.

That same night, as you stared at the collection of gifts scattered around your room, you finally broke. The memory of Lilith lingered like a ghost in the House of Lamentation, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape her shadow. And with every gift, every gesture, it became clearer—you were never truly seen. Not for who you were. Not for who you wanted to be. You were a ghost in someone else’s place, a cruel imitation of the sister they lost. Every kindness they offered wasn’t meant for you, no matter how much you laughed, cried, or screamed, it wouldn’t matter. They never cared for you. They cared for the pieces of her they saw in you.

You were her, in all the ways that counted. And you wondered if they would ever realize—if they would ever mourn you, the way they mourned her. Or if you were never meant to be anything more than Lilith’s shadow.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[crystaltrainwrecks]

Ok LISTEN

So Wheeljack right? I think shipping him with Ratchet is hella entertaining, and him with Ultra Magnus melts my heart.

But listen.

What if Wheeljack was with Knockout ?

This ship popped into my head the other day for the first time EVER, and now I can’t stop thinking about it XD The two flirts of TFP in love (or just angrily flirting, that works too 😂)

But the more I think about it, the more it kinda works? Like their both sassy with a non-too-nice comebacks always at the ready, their both flirts in some shape or form (at least in my opinion), AND I can see their histories potentially making for some really interesting bonding/emotional hurt scenes and conversation 🤔 ALSO did I mention that we get the beautiful angst of them being from opposite sides of the war? 👀

What do you think?

[brittscafe]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞

Pairing: Renji Abarai x fem! reader

Summary: Fem! reader really loves snakes and finds out that Renji's zanpakuto is half snake.

Request: Aww, I'll request some Renji x reader fluff. How about reader who ADORES snakes getting excited when they find out their boyfriend's zanpakuto is half snake, and excitedly asking to see his bankai so they can pet the good noodle

A/n: I loveee Renji!! Also, I am so so sorry because this was supposed to be out literal months ago, pls forgive meee 🥹🥹 Anyways, here's Renji and the good noodle <3

Content: SFW, snakes, fem! reader.

"Aw! Renji, come on! You have to let me get a snake!" you whine out, letting out a deep sigh as Renji and you walk along in the woods. The sun glistens in between the tree branches, illuminating Renji's face.

"Why would we get a pet snake when we already basically have one?" he scoffs out and you furrow your eyebrows with confusion.

"What do you mean?" you ask, inquiringly. Renji glances down at you and his eyes slightly widen.

As much as you have fought side by side by Renji, you have yet to see his bankai. Which means you don't know that Renji's zanpakuto is half snake.

"My zankaputo, Zabimaru is half snake. Have I really never told you?" Renji asks and you stop in your tracks, scoffing. Your heart skips a beat and you rapidly shake your head.

You grab onto his shoulders and rattle him.

"How could you not tell me?! Can I see?!!" you gasp out, jumping up and down.

A deep chuckle bubbles up from Renji's chest and his eyes soften.

"Sure, babe." he replies and your cheer with excitement, anticipation bubbling inside of you.

"Zabimaru, release: Hihio Zabimaru!" Renji's voice roars out, thrusting his sword outwards. Your eyes widen as the wind starts to pick up and

The massive skeletal snake is wrapped around Renji, acting as a shield. Your mouth drops open at the large half snake appearing in front of you, razor sharp teeth as its mouth is slightly open.

"Y/n, meet Zabimaru. She's very excited to meet you," Renji comments with amusement and Zabimaru slithers in the air. The hair on your arms rises up and goosebumps form along your forearms.

"Wow," is the only thing you can say as you take in Zabimaru. You slowly reach out your hand as Zabimaru bows down its head to you, eyes closing.

Renji watches with a smile on his face as your hand gently caresses Zabimaru's nose. There's just something about watching his girlfriend pet his Zanpakuto that makes his heart melt.

You let out a giggle of happiness as you swear you can hear Zabimaru purr, even though you know snakes definitely don't purr. Zabimaru opens its eyes, gazing at you and a chill runs down your spine.

Renji gazes at the moment unfolding in front of him, Zabimaru and you bonding without needing words. It's beautiful, really.

"Are you ready to say goodbye now, y/n?" Renji asks with a gentle voice and you nod your head. Renji sheathes his sword and Zabimaru coils itself back into Renji's sword.

Renji gazes at the wide smile on your face, happiness filling his heart as he could tell how excited you were. He's glad he's the one could make you so excited and make your dreams come true for just a moment.

"Thank you!" you throw your arms around your boyfriend, squeezing him tightly. Renji chuckles and leans into your hug, a grin dancing along his face.

"You're welcome. You can ask to see Zabimaru anytime," he replies and you let out a gasp, untangling yourself from his warm embrace.

"Really?!" you proclaim, eyes glistening exhilaration and Renji chuckles.

"Don't push it though," he warns you, continuing to walk into the woods.

"Ok, I won't!" you call out, rushing up to catch up to him. You interlace your arm with his and lean your head on his arm as the two of you continue your walk through the forest.

[sheepdog-and-fakegoldenretriever]

Last time I'll see him tomorrow as I move jobs next week

Also saw my rue girl for the last time Monday broke my heart I'll actually miss these dogs so much. I hope they find their perfect home soon

[evelynpr]

Might be a hot take as a bkdk and tgck truther here, but I find izuocha endlessly fascinating, beautiful, but also tearfully tragic.

I see their love for each other as something representative of their innocence and naivety when they only knew so little about who they were, and what was to come.

I think the main barrier of their relationship is that its rooted in how they see each other very idealistically, specifically that they're attached to the image of their Best Heroic Selves, and not the deeply selfish, destructive, freaky, and egotistical parts of them. To each other, they need to keep fulfilling that image or else that same person they looked up to would almost die in front of them, and that would be too cruel. Although that hero is still there, that same person they looked up to is not the same now because of...well...everything.

Izuku had barely even talked to girls when he first met her. She was Izuku's first ever real friend (Sorry Kats, everyone and him knows he was terrible), so he saved her in that entrance exam even if it was so dangerous. She gave a new meaning to his derogatory nickname just by being a friend that believed in him. After that, she saved him several more times (Blackwhip and Megaphone are the biggest samples iirc). It makes perfect sense that she is Deku's hero.

Ochako hardly knew what it meant to be a hero when she first got into UA. Just by reaching out to some kid tripping, she made a new friend who would then save her in that exam, then save him again in return. This boy then became someone who was always working so hard to save everyone in trouble, and she realized she wanted to be just like him too. "I want to save people"

But...Deku changes. The weight of One for All is on his shoulders and he needs someone to carry this burden with him. He continues to want to save other people at the expense of himself, still not letting his true selfishness and ego ever show- and it only grows more and more unbearable.

Then...Ochako fell in love with Himiko. Truly, relentlessly, selfishly and devotedly in love with a girl who then dies giving her blood to her- the greatest expression of love Himiko could ever give.

Not that they can't love each other because of this happening (and...so many other things oh god), I'm honestly not sure how to explain it- But them ending up together after losing that innocence and naivety? After Ochako will forever grieve the girl who showed her love in its most beautiful and ugly form? After Izuku changed so fundamentally as a person that the butterflies of a nice girl talking to you doesn't exist anymore? After that simple image of being a hero and being in love has completely changed for them both?

Even so, I believe they still love each other. There is no label I know of that can properly describe them though. They are each other's image of being a hero when it comes to saving people. Aside from Shoto, no one else can grasp the grief of the person you tried to save dying in your hands. They would no doubt try to cope with these losses together, and just try to get better together...but so much has changed. They've changed. The world changed. What are they now? Who are they now?

"What happened...to us?"

[luminut]

(sound on!)

"Tomorrow, we're sure to have clear skies."

A Boonboomger Video Comic 🌧️🌈

The comic in (mostly) still form

Here is the Youtube video in case the uploaded video quality is really bad.

[ashleygraves-number1defender]

This art is so cuteeee 🥰 fav BOP is a very tough choice but Eurasian Kestrel! The reasoning is in the tags because I intended it to be a short explanation and wound up rambling, oopsie

Heres my girlie and the main reason behind the favouritism lol; she’s a year and a half old Eurasian Kestrel and owns my heart and soul! (Last pic was with her juvenile plumage)

american kestrel

tell me your favorite bird of prey :-)

[herbofgraceandpeace]

I steal a few breaths from the world for a minute,

and then I’ll be nothing forever—

and all of my memories and all of the things I have seen

will be gone, with my eyes, with my body, with me.

But me and my husband! We’re doing better!

it’s always been just him and me! together!

so I bet all I have on that furrowed brow!

and! at least in this lifetime! we’re sticking together!

[bluecookies02]

Viktor x Reader

tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl 🤌 hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.

[established relationship]

Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.

But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.

And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.

The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.

He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.

He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.

It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.

Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.

He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.

So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.

There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.

He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.

This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.

So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.

He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.

Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.

requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop by🩵

[illyrianbitch]

An Evening Reunion

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission. You talk to him about your day, but he’s far more interested in you—and your silk nightgown.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship fluff, lil domestic moments, az coming home from a mission, reader serving cunt in a nightgown, suggestive sexual content, basically dry humping, boners, and allusions to sex

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

based on this ask!! youve done the lords work!!

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The evening was still and quiet, a content feeling lingering in the air as if the world had enjoyed its day and was happily ready to yield to the night.

It had, indeed, been a good day, a really good day. You had no complaints— except one. You missed your mate. Azriel had been so busy recently, chasing fading whispers and potential leads. He was running himself ragged, returning every night exhausted and sore. What would make today perfect for you was something you were sure would make Azriel’s day end properly— a nice, warm embrace.

Faintly, your ears picked up the sound of the door opening, a small creaking that you’d grown to love. Your heart leapt as you pushed yourself out of bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you made your way out of the bedroom and through the hallway.

A window was open in the living room, a decision you had made earlier to welcome the beautiful weather. You had forgotten about the decision until now, until the cool breeze met your body and you shivered, nipples hardening under the thin material of your silk nightgown.

A familiar scent of night-chilled leather and something uniquely him filled the room, carried by the gentle night breeze. You took in a deep breath, letting the air and the smell of your mate fill your senses. A smile began to gnaw at your lips as you rounded the corner, eyes landing on Azriel’s form.

His wings were folded tightly against his back as he shrugged off his jacket, shadows swirling and flickering around his form like restless children. You knew that they got tired on these long missions sometimes, too. Your heart ached at the sight of two beings you loved so dearly being so evidently exhausted.

Sensing your presence, Azriel’s eyes immediately found yours, and the weariness in his face softened into a look of pure affection. His movements stilled, shadows seemingly calming, then, as if sensing his relief. Within seconds, they surged towards you, encircling you in a cool, loving embrace. You laughed softly, the sensation tickling your skin.

You smiled at your mate. “Welcome home.”

His gaze softened even further, a deep warmth kindling within your chest as he tugged on your bond— that divine, beautiful bond.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, crossing the room in a few long strides. He brought you into a quick, tight embrace, a hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed a faint kiss to your forehead.

When he broke apart with a sigh, you reached up to run a comforting hand over his arm. “Rough day?”

He shrugged, but his shoulders relaxed under your touch. “Better now.”

You gave him a sympathetic glance, brows furrowing at the tension etched into his features. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Azriel only nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he followed you down into the hallway, closing the bedroom door with his heel as you pulled him inside.

Piece by piece, you helped him remove his leathers, fingers softly undoing the buckles and straps. You let out a small laugh at the motions, memories of the start of your relationship bubbling to the brink of your mind— a time where you’d struggle to remove these same buckles and straps, when you’d get so frustrated and curse both your mate and his clothing. Not that you knew he was your mate at that point, but something inside you had convinced you that he was worthy enough of the patience it took to navigate the countless aspects of his fighting leathers.

“What is it?” Azriel asked softly, “What's so funny?”

You shook your head, drawing your lips in between your teeth. “Just remembering a time when I couldn’t remove these damned things.”

Azriel let out a laugh then, too. “And now look, you’re an expert.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. Call me the mate of the century.”

He let out another small chuckle, a dimpled smile forming on his face. A wave of silence fell upon you as each piece of clothing fell to the floor with a soft clunk, a sound made from both the metal clasps and the hidden assortment of weapons inside. Picking it all up was a problem for tomorrow. You made a mental note of it and stored it away in your mind.

Azriel let out a sigh of relief as the final pieces of his armor fell away. He peeled off the rest of his clothing, leaving him in just his underwear as he took a step closer to you. You tried not to stare at the beautiful form before you, at the ripple of his muscles. Gods, it was a sight you’d never tire of.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you onto the bed with him. He laid back against the pillows, his wings spreading slightly to accommodate your weight as you settled yourself atop him, straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the silk of your nightgown, a cool trail of shadows following and exaggerating his every move.

“Tell me about your day.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Nesta and I walked around town for a bit. We found this little bookstore she loved. And then I baked with Elain. We made those dark chocolate cupcakes you like.”

He hummed appreciatively, hands rubbing gentle circles on your hips. “Sounds nice.”

You started to roll your hips, slowly, almost absentmindedly— a movement that you’d grown used to from other times spent in this same position. “It was. Elain sent some home for you.”

Azriel’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his attention divided between your words and the steady, tantalizing motion of your body against his. “I can’t wait to try them.”

His fingers traced up your sides, one hand gently pushing your hair away from your neck to expose the sensitive skin to him. You shuddered at his touch, at the light brush of his fingertips. His hands were still cold from outside, and the tendrils of smoke, of shadow, that wrapped around his wrist made the feeling even stronger.

“And then we… oh,” you whispered, breath hitching as his nose brushed against your neck, face nuzzling into the crook of it. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin as he traced a path up your throat, a warm ripple of excitement running down your spine.

You tried to stay focused, asking him a question about his day and his input for tomorrow's plans. Cassian’s birthday was next week, and you and Az still had to decide on what you wanted to give him. The plan, supposedly, was to go out tomorrow and finalize your gifts. But your mate's attention seemed elsewhere. You let out a small laugh. “Az, are you even listening?”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, gaze dark with desire, pupils now blown out. “Baby,” he said, “How can I when you look so good, and smell fucking divine.”

You let out a breath as a blush crept up your cheeks, the warmth radiating throughout your body. His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, his arousal now evident beneath you, large and wanting. “No, no,” he murmured, his voice husky with need, “Keep talking.”

“Alright,” you responded quietly, but your heart was no longer in the conversation. Instead, you focused on his hardening length beneath you, at the movement of your hips and the growing heat in your stomach. Azriel’s breathing grew more labored beneath you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “And then we—”

You faltered as Azriel began to roll his hips, a whine leaving your lips as his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you into a searing kiss, mouth slotting over yours naturally— needy and eager.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around you as he urged you to continue moving against him— a request you gave into immediately, a pool of desire beginning to wet both your nightwear and his. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against yours, and there was a certain tremor in his muscles— a barely restrained hunger as he started to thrust up.

His hand tightened around your waist, the other sliding down to grab your ass, guiding you with a firm, insistent touch. His shadows coiled around your thighs as you parted from him, heavily breathing against his lips, “I'm getting the feeling that you’ve missed me.”

Azriel’s laugh was deep and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest as his lips remained pressed to yours. “Unbelievably so,” he muttered, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss, pulling you even closer.

You let out a sound of protest as he pulled away again, but it quickly turned into one of pleasure as his mouth trailed down to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your shoulder. The strap of your nightgown slipped down, baring more of your skin to his eager mouth.

"S'pretty," Az purred against your skin, fingers delicately tugging the strap down further. "I like this."

“Yeah?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged lightly at his scalp, drawing his attention back to you. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you and you throbbed as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Show me how much.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

whoever sent that ask....i love u and u got me writing faster than any deadline <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin

[erinwantstowrite]

Dick and Tim would be REALLY good on reality tv,,, they're both charismatic (please do not forget that Tim makes friends/allies easily just like Dick can), handsome, CLEVER, and know how to play to a persona. i think they'd go on shows for fun and to de-stress. like one too many things piss them off in their daily lives and they could pretty much get a vacation from it just to go on these shows. no one in the family can talk to them and they get to annoy people, crack jokes, and get fun puzzles in the form of a literal puzzle or figuring out social dynamics of the other players.

sometimes they go on shows by themselves but mostly use it as a brotherly bonding activity. if it's a show where they can be a duo they're GOING to do it. and they're going in to play to a storyline, not to win. they don't need the money, they don't need the publicity, they just want to have fun. sometimes if they figure out that everyone on the show sucks and they get competitive, they'll win. but mostly their goal is "how can we make the funniest plot line look the most natural." or something like that. i know a producer LOVES to see them coming. i bet EVERYONE tunes in when they're on a show because they're fucking hilarious even if half of what they say are inside jokes. the rest of the family watches and they KNOW what those shits are pulling, they have betting pools where they guess what the two are gonna do next, they're the FIRST to make memes for both internet and for the family group chats.

one time they convinced Bruce to go (it's been many a years since he really had to play up the Brucie role, cause he's a dad now and the older he gets the more people expect him to mellow out, and even back when he was full Brucie, reality TV wasn't his thing). it was one of those survival based shows where you come is as a team and try to win together. Bruce got lost in the woods after going on a hike. The camera men literally lost him and Tim and Dick were playing it up for the camera. Dick cried and invited the other teams to a funeral. Tim had a speech that was basically "I think he's fine but this is my perfect opportunity to embarrass my dad with stories." The producers were like "we fucking killed Bruce Wayne oh my fucking god" and Bruce shows up at the funeral like "oh what a beautiful service my boys are so great." They won by pure luck and circumstances and they were actively TRYING to lose that game. They were gobsmacked at the end and everyone uses the moment they looked at each other in confusion and shock as reaction gifs

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[yingdu-lover]

this scene will have a special place in my heart REGARDLESS of what is about to unfold, even after the end of Link Click

Lu Guang's genuine happy smile slowly breaks as he looks at silly Cheng Xiaoshi.

it's not just a small smile we usually see

it's a smile that takes over the looming gloominess we have seen for the entire 3 seasons

this smile is DIFFERENT. The pleasant warm forest background along with the young green leaves falling on them, it is one of the most beautiful framings of shiguang I have ever seen. If the leaves were yellow/orange, it would have made me cry like a howling hyena because that signifies 'the autumn of life', death is not far away. But it's green and young! it symbolises young and pure love. The warmth of the forest really holds them like a blanket. This scene is vibrant with youthfulness and lively spirit, and the focus of the scene is THEM.

You know what is interesting, why is Yingdu so special? We had multiple opportunities in S1 and S2 to see Shiguang framed like this but they deliberately avoided it. for example take this scene,

the focus is on their hands, which is of course very symbolic and it just looks like Cheng Xiaoshi just asked,

"Would you like to be my life partner?"

- "yes"

but they didn't show their faces.

But I am not here just to talk about Shiguang. It's him

there is something in his expressions that pleasantly sends shivers to my heart.

He is genuinely happy to cross paths with them, probably in another life, he would not meet them as a spy. In another timeline, he would have enough agency upon his life to choose to befriend them of his own volition. Link Click is so agonisingly beautiful to portray the often ignored yet deep yearning of the human mind, the yearning to meet people who make you believe in 'found family', even if it's for a fleeting moment, you are grateful to be able to form human bondings, with people who feel to be 'your people'. You know when Beckett said that the fundamental condition of human existence is being enveloped by loneliness and that's why they are constantly in search of the 'others'...he was painfully truthful.

Whatever transpires (even if it's Xia Fei who actually kills Cheng Xiaoshi and wants to kill Lu Guang) this scene will not lose its value. On the contrary, the emotions will be more profound. In a world where destiny had not designed such a heinous survival game, we will be alive and happy together.

Another thing (apart from their friendship) he realises is that...how Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang are so deeply in love. (Listen, Ik the dialogues may add a whole different meaning altogether but I wanna write it cuz it makes me happy hmph!) He recognises it, and kind of wishes something of that in his own life too. I would not be surprised if he actually views shiguang as the model lovers he kind of pines for in his own life too ( probably with Vein-)

whatever, this scene is PRICELESS!

edit : this.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

With you, always

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader (implied fem)

genre: fluff, suggestive, pinch of angst

wc: 5.5k

synopsis: you ask your best friend to help you win over your crush.

warnings: college!au, fake dating, best friends to lovers trope, crying, a few kissing scenes and one make out scene

a/n: wanted to try my hand out at a fake dating scenario, hope you like this one🥹🫶🏻

(i also needed something cute and fluffy bcs i had the shittiest week😭)

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

masterlist

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but for Hyunjin today was the most important day of his life.

It had been more than a month since he started gathering the courage to finally confess to his best friend, you.

He was more than nervous, tossing and turning in his bed the night prior, imagining all the scenarios, every single possibility from you falling into his arms to you slapping him and walking away forever.

He couldn't stand the thought of the last option, hoping that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, maybe you'd still be his best friend cause he really would suck it up for you, just so he can stay by your side.

But Hyunjin was 99% sure you felt the same, and that the 1% was just his own doubts creating negative outcomes in his mind.

You've been best friends for almost five years now, meeting through your mutual friend Changbin who you lived close to and hung out with, inevitably becoming close to Hyunjin too.

Changbin moved away but still kept in touch, leaving Hyunjin and you to bond with each other; going as far as attending the same university.

You've been inseparable since then, there was rarely any moment you didn't spend together.

There was no way you spent so much time with him and didn't come to love him the way he loved you; that's what Hyunjin kept telling himself.

Anyways, you were always so good to him, it must mean something right?

Hyunjin's palms were clammy as he wiped them on his jeans for the nth time today, giving himself the ick for a moment.

He was on the edge, jittery as he kept shifting from foot to foot, waiting for you to arrive so you can go to your classes together.

He had it all planned.

After class he would ask you to meet up in your 'secret place', a bench under a tree near the campus where you two would sit and spend time together, and there he would gift you the painting he had carefully created for you, the beautiful everlasting bouquet of flowers that would never wither just like his love for you.

Then he would tell you how much you mean to him, how he has loved you this whole time... And he didn't know how you'd react, maybe your eyes would tear up, maybe you'd hug him instantly... But he knew it would end with a sweet kiss and Hyunjin asking you to be his.

He got lost in the scenarios he's been making up for weeks, not even noticing that you appeared before him.

"Earth to Hyunjin?" you wave your hand in front of his face and he snaps out of his thoughts, hoping he didn't say anything out loud and accidentally revealed his plan.

"Oh, sorry I'm still asleep." Hyunjin chuckles, his cheeks rosy.

"That's why I got you this." you give him a cup of coffee, holding another cup in your other hand.

"See now, this is why I hang out with you." Hyunjin nods, grabbing the cup from your hand.

Your fingers touch for a moment and he feels electricity run through his body.

"Glad to know you're just using me for coffee." you act annoyed even though you know he's just teasing you.

"And your notes. You're way better at taking them than I am." he says after taking a sip of his beverage, a smug smile spreading on his face.

"That's cause you daydream 24/7, you dork." you nudge him with your shoulder as you start making your way across the campus.

"I do not." Hyunjin pouts.

"Yes, you do. You were literally doing it just now when I came up to you." you poke his side and he jumps a little, letting out a squeak.

"I was just... nevermind. Listen-" Hyunjin starts, swallowing a big lump that's forming in his throat.

You look up at him, your eyes big and curious as you stare into his, making him melt into the ground.

"There's something I want to tell you. Today. I mean, later. Yeah. We can meet up at our spot?"

You notice his voice trembling a little, hoping it's not some bad news.

"Really? I have something I wanna tell you too." you smile wide and Hyunjin's heart starts pounding against his chest.

Did you think of confessing to him too?

"What?" he laughs in disbelief. "About what?"

"Well... Should I just say it? I'm impatient, you know that." your eyes sparkle as you keep looking at Hyunjin, your smile wide and cheeks dusted in pink.

"Yeah." Hyunjin's throat constricts. This is it.

"Okay. Well. Remember Minho? We have a few classes with him?"

Hyunjin frowns. What does Minho have to do with anything?

"Yeah, vaguely. What about him?" he gulps.

"I think I have a crush on him."

And just like that, Hyunjin's ears start ringing as he stands there, feeling like someone just dumped icy water all over him and also smacked him with the bucket for good measure.

"What?" he doesn't want to believe that you just said that.

"Minho, I have a crush on him. Like- it's been there for some time but it was just a little one, I didn't pay attention to it but last weekend I ran into him and we talked, and he was really sweet."

"Is that all that it took for you to develop a crush on him?" Hyunjin's scowl is evident, annoyance written all over his face.

"Hyunjin!" you were taken aback by his tone. "No. It's just- we had a brief conversation and I felt like we had so much in common. I thought you'd be happy for me, you always tease me that I'll die alone if I don't find someone."

Hyunjin can see the confusion and insecurities reflecting in your eyes and his face softens.

He can't be cruel to you, never.

"I- I am happy for you. I just... Need to process."

"Are you jealous?" you smirk. "You'll always be my best friend, Jinnie, you know I'll never replace you."

"Best friend, huh?" Hyunjin scoffs. "Great. I just remembered I gotta go do something." he turns around, muttering under his breath.

"What? Class is about to start, where are you going?" you look at him confusedly as Hyunjin stares at the floor, walking away from you.

"Hyunjin, watch out!" you try to warn him, but it's already too late, his head collides with one of the trees growing in front of the building, the force of it making him fall back down on his butt as he wails loudly, grabbing at his forehead, his coffee spilled by his side.

"This is what I get." he mumbles, his bottom lip trembling as his eyes water.

"You dumbass." you appear by his side in mere seconds. "Let me see."

Hyunjin puts his hands down as you inspect his forehead.

"I think it's gonna be okay." you say, leaning so close to him so he can feel your warmth and smell your shampoo.

"Since when is this tree here?" Hyunjin grunts.

"Since like 60 years ago." you giggle.

Before he can compute what's happening, you grab Hyunjin's face and lean in, pressing your lips on his forehead gently.

How could you do this and not love him?

His eyes water again.

"Oh, don't cry you drama queen. This is like the third time this week that you ran into something with that thick head of yours. By now, I think the tree took more damage than you." you joke, trying to lift the mood up.

Hyunjin chuckles a little, not being able to stay mad at you even though you were driving him crazy in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to class now." you help pull him up, throwing the spilled cup in the trash.

"Here, we can share my coffee." you give him your cup, and Hyunjin shakes his head.

"It's okay."

"Also, what were you going to tell me?" you beam at him and Hyunjin feels like someone has squeezed his heart and lungs.

"Nothing. It's not important." he forces a smile, finding it harder to breathe suddenly.

"Really? Sounded important to me."

"It's not. Forget about it." he says as you walk through the front door.

"Alright, if you say so."

The two of you sit in one of the back rows as always, your eyes immediately searching for Minho, who always sits up front.

It's one of the classes you share with him and you await eagerly to see him, hoping he'd look up and wave at you.

Hyunjin takes out his notebook and pen, trying to act normal even though he feels as if he's been shot right in the chest and his heart is now bleeding out slowly.

He hears you gasp quietly and looks up.

Minho just walked in, dressed in a sleek black shirt and some jeans, looking effortlessly perfect and Hyunjin can see you visibly perk up as you stare at the man with a smile.

You should be looking at Hyunjin like that.

No, Hyunjin shakes his head. He shouldn't be thinking like this, he should be happy for you, he should support you.

After all, that's what best friends do.

You're getting ready to wave, but Minho doesn't even spare a glance your way, his face unreadable as he sits down, talking to some guy that's sitting next to him.

You visibly deflate and Hyunjin feels bad, putting his hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

"I'm sure he'll say hello to you later." Hyunjin says and you nod at him with a sigh.

During the entire lecture, your eyes kept wandering over to Minho while Hyunjin kept his eyes on you, his heart breaking as he watched you falling for someone else right before his eyes.

Why the hell did he wait for so long to tell you how he feels?

Now, he's lost his chance.

Hyunjin slumps back in his seat and decides to actually start taking notes even though he knows he'll end up stealing yours like he always does.

For the last three days you've been gushing about Minho nonstop.

Minho did this, Minho did that, Minho said this, Minho said that. Minho, Minho, Minho.

Hyunjin was already sick of it and imagining that guy actually reciprocating your feelings and becoming your boyfriend was making Hyunjin's stomach churn.

Minho seemed to take some kind of interest in you, at least that's what you thought from the brief conversations you'd have with him in the halls while Hyunjin watched you interact with him, your eyes sparkly and cheeks rosy.

He wanted to smack his own forehead against the wall until it hurts enough so he can forget about the pain he feels on the inside.

But the more Hyunjin observed Minho, it seemed to him that the guy was just being polite to you, answering your questions with a small smile on his face, nodding here and there as you talked.

That was not the face of a man in love, at least that's what Hyunjin believed.

"Minho told me that this shirt really matches my eye color." you're almost jumping around Hyunjin and he rolls his eyes.

"It's ugly."

"Hyunjin!" you smack your best friend's arm and he winces, acting like you just broke his bones.

"What?" he looks at you, his brows furrowed.

"You're jealous, Hyun. Admit it." you smirk, poking his side.

"Am not. Let's just go to class."

"Did you know that Minho's a dancer?" you quip suddenly as the two of you sit down.

"So what? I dance too." Hyunjin answers, taking his notebook out and not sparing you a glance.

He can't bring himself to look at your face while you talk about your crush.

"I know you dance but I didn't know he does too. He told me I could come watch him practice some time." you smile and Hyunjin almost chokes on his breath.

"He w-what?"

"I'm gonna watch him dance." you smirk and Hyunjin shakes his head.

"Whatever. Enjoy."

"Come with me." you grab at his arm and he tries to swat you away.

"I don't want to."

"Come on, pleaseeeeee." you whine, pouting at your best friend as you lean your cheek on his shoulder.

Hyunjin melts when he looks down at you.

"Fine." he sighs.

"Yay!" you quickly kiss his cheek and Hyunjin dies on the inside a little. "You're the best, Jinnie."

"Yeah, yeah, I know I am." he smirks at you while shaking his head.

Hoping somewhere deep inside that this is just a phase.

-

The very same day, Minho has dance practice and you drag Hyunjin to the dance room to watch.

There are some other dancers there, and some people sitting and watching so the two of you sit down next to them.

Hyunjin takes out his phone and you frown at him.

"Aren't you gonna watch with me?" you ask.

"I don't really care about his dancing. But you go ahead and enjoy." he shrugs.

"Sure." you look at Hyunjin for a few more moments as he concentrates on scrolling, a little sigh escaping your lips.

You're a bit worried since Hyunjin has never acted like this before and you kept wracking your brain, trying to figure out what is going on with him.

The music starts soon and you look up, your eyes falling on Minho.

His dance moves are sharp and on time, executed so smoothly, you've never seen someone dance so perfectly before.

You stare in awe and Hyunjin looks up with an annoyed face, his eyes traveling between the two of you and how flabbergasted you look.

When Minho finishes dancing, you're ready for him to come up to you and talk but instead a guy skips towards him and starts talking with a big smile on his face, his arms flailing around in excitement.

Minho smiles wide, eyes all sparkly and cheeks all rosy, you've never seen him react like that.

"So, what did you think?" you ask Hyunjin, hoping Minho won't just ignore you.

"He's too stiff." Hyunjin mutters, still looking at his phone.

"He totally isn't." you squint your eyes at him before standing up.

Sadly for you, Minho doesn't spare you a glance, quickly leaving the room with the guy who joined him.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Hyunjin laughs in disbelief.

"Keep your voice down." you pinch his thigh.

"Ow!" he swats your hand away. "There is no way, y/n. I'm not gonna pretend to be your boyfriend."

"Please, Hyun! Who else will I ask? You want me to go to some stranger?!" you almost yell yourself and Hyunjin shushes you.

"What's in it for me?" Hyunjin crosses his arms and leans back.

"Mm, you're helping your lovely best friend?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

"This is crazy." he shakes his head.

"Is that a yes or no?" you beam at him.

"Fine. Fine, I'll be your fake boyfriend." Hyunjin feels like crying and laughing at the same time, the absurdity of his reality was really something.

"Yes! Thank you, Jinnie!" you throw your arms around him and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close, his heart fluttering in his chest.

"I owe you." you mutter into him.

"Damn right you do." he exhales, trying to calm his fast beating heart down.

For some reason, in your mind it made perfect sense.

Minho needed a nudge to make a move on you, and what better way to nudge him than making him jealous?

Hyunjin thought it was the dumbest idea he had ever heard but at this point, he was hoping that through your fake relationship you'd come to realize that he would be the perfect boyfriend for you, not some random guy you talked to a few times.

While he was trying to fall asleep in his bed that night, Hyunjin wondered just how far are you willing to take the lie.

-

The next morning, while Hyunjin waited for you to arrive like he always did, his heart was beating fast.

He was so nervous about the whole ordeal, not knowing how you'll approach him.

"Jinnie!" you waved slightly with a cup of coffee as soon as you spotted him.

He waved back a bit reluctantly as you beamed at him.

"Morning. Coffee for my handsome boyfriend." you smirked as you gave him his cup.

What the actual fuck?

His legs trembled for a moment and Hyunjin felt like the ground was crumbling underneath his feet and pretty soon he'll be joining it.

"Don't say it like that." he freaked out on the inside, hoping he wasn't blushing too hard.

"What? We need to get into character." you smiled, hooking your arm with his and practically dragging him towards the campus.

Oh, you are so going to be the end of him.

"Why can't we just act like we normally do?" Hyunjin whined as you approached the building.

"Because it won't be believeable. We have to act sweet like... like imagine if we were actually dating what would you do?"

You must be crazy, Hyunjin thinks as his lips fall open in shock.

"I'd probably kiss you." he says, half joking and knowing you'd never say yes to something so ludicrous.

"Okay, let's do it." you stand close to him, your hand slipping down to his as you interlace your fingers.

"What?!" Hyunjin yells and you squeeze his hand as a few people look your way.

"Hyunjin. Make it believeable. Come on, kiss me." you nod quickly.

Hyunjin's lips open and close a few times as he searches your face.

"In front of everyone? Shouldn't our first kiss be more intimate?" Hyunjin swallows and that's when your cheeks become rosy.

"They don't know it's our first kiss. Plus it's just pretend so let's do it." you don't know how much your words hurt him but Hyunjin is a fool for you so he nods.

"Okay." he lets go of your hand only to cup your cheek, and for some reason your heartbeat picks up speed.

You chalk it up to not kissing anyone for so long.

It's definitely not because of Hyunjin, right?

His eyes soften as he leans in and you meet him halfway, hearing his breath hitch before your lips finally make contact.

Hyunjin doesn't care why you're kissing him, because in this moment nothing really exists except you and him, the world around you melting away.

His lips are soft against yours, he tastes of coffee and the chocolate croissant he had for breakfast and just so Hyunjin.

It's exactly what you imagined he'd taste like.

Not that you ever thought about kissing your best friend.

You lean back before thoughts consume you and before the kiss can escalate.

Hyunjin feels like you just took his breath away.

"See? It went good." you say, but your voice trembles and your face is red.

"I think that was better than good." Hyunjin pouts but before you can retaliate someone calls out to you.

The two of you turn towards the voice and see Chan, one of your acquaintances from class as he approaches you with a smirk.

"Did you two finally get together?" he asks and Hyunjin coughs as your eyes widen.

"I- yes we did." you answer quickly as Hyunjin tranforms into a frozen tomato next to you.

"Gosh, I'm so happy for you guys. I always knew you were into each other, it was so obvious. Good luck!" Chan throws finger guns your way before running off to class.

His words echo in your mind. You were obvious? What the heck does that mean?

"Let's go to class." you grip Hyunjin's hand and he nods, still stunned by the kiss you shared and what Chan had said.

You sit in your usual spot in the back, Minho arriving a few minutes later and you visibly perk up.

"Quick, put your arm around me!" you startle Hyunjin who was doodling in his notebook but he does exactly what you asked.

His arm wraps around your shoulder and he brings you closer to his body just as Minho looks up your way.

You wave at him and Minho waves back with a smile, his eyes moving to Hyunjin shortly before he turns around and sits down.

"Did you see that? Do you think he looked jealous?" you whisper to your best friend.

"Maybe." Hyunjin shrugs, retracting his arm.

"Maybe?" you whine. "I need a yes not a maybe."

"Give it some time, y/n." Hyunjin is back to doodling.

How is he gonna endure this torture?

As it always was on the weekends, Hyunjin came to your place to hang out.

Usually your roommate was staying with her boyfriend every weekend so you had the apartment all to yourself.

After a good old gossip session and a movie marathon with snacks, Hyunjin and you were still snuggled up in your bed.

You were barely awake now, trying to focus on the third movie in a row while Hyunjin was keeping his eyes only on you.

A small smile danced on his lips as he observed your pouty face, your eyes fighting to stay open as you blinked tiredly, your face illuminated only by the tv.

He scooted closer to you, putting his arm around you and that jolted you from your half asleep state.

"What are you doing?" you asked and he chuckled, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"Getting my cuddles." Hyunjin smirks.

"Who gave you cuddle privileges?" you smirk back, deciding to tease him a little.

"I'm your best friend, of course I get cuddle privileges. Plus, consider it your payment for making me fake-date you." Hyunjin nuzzles into you, making you shiver a little.

"So it's that horrible to date me, hm?" you giggle, some kind of tension washing over you.

"Oh yeah, the absolute worst." Hyunjin jokes and you smack his arm immediately.

"Hey!" you protest and he laughs.

It's quiet for some time, and you close your eyes, your body is suddenly aware of everything.

You're aware of Hyunjin's warmth, his familiar and comforting scent, the way his breath hits your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your cheek, the heaviness of his arm and leg thrown over you and your heart starts beating faster.

You wonder why since this is not the first time Hyunjin and you cuddled, you started this tradition a year ago, it became normal to cuddle every weekend he stayed over.

You suddenly also wondered if that was normal; to cuddle your guy best friend.

You also thought about the kiss the two of you shared, what mostly replayed in your mind wasn't the actual kiss, it was the way Hyunjin looked at you when you parted.

His eyes seemed full of love and affection, he seemed soft and putty in that moment like he really wanted to kiss you, like it meant so much to him.

"Hyunjin?"

"Hm?"

"Can we practice kissing?" your brain just always comes up with great ideas.

Hyunjin freezes, his body stiff against yours.

"What?" he looks up at you with a nervous chuckle.

"So that it's more believeable in public."

He smirks.

"Are you sure it's not because you liked kissing me?" Hyunjin jokes, though on the inside he hopes you'll say yes.

"Shut up!" you whine. "This is just pretend, okay?"

"Sure, if you say so." he stares at you with a grin and you don't know if you would rather slap him or kiss him.

"Go on then." you whisper.

Hyunjin chuckles at your impatience, throwing his head back for a moment as his laughter jostles you.

When he looks back at you, something shifts in his eyes and you swallow the lump in your throat.

He slowly leans in and why are you nervous suddenly?

Hyunjin's lips press against yours and this time you melt as he hovers above you, kissing you gently, his fingers caressing your cheek and tracing your skin.

Your hand comes up to hold the back of his neck and play with his hair which makes Hyunjin press against your lips harder, kissing you with more passion than before.

Your mind is dizzy suddenly, this is nothing like the innocent kiss you shared in public, and something starts stirring up inside you as you drown out the noise of the movie, focusing only on your best friend.

Oh my god, you're making out with your best friend!

That thought crosses your mind just when Hyunjin's big hand ends up on your waist, squeezing a little as his tongue swipes your lip and you hear it in his heavy breathing, how worked up he's getting.

Something inside you ignites when you part your lips, letting him push his tongue inside as he starts gently playing with yours.

You almost quit thinking, your brain feeling foggy as your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull just a little.

It's enough to make Hyunjin groan into you and that snaps you back into reality.

You gasp, suddenly backing away as Hyunjin slowly blinks his eyes open, his face filled with lust and confusion of the sudden stop, his plump lips even more swollen and red after kissing you.

You can't believe he looks so attractive.

"I think we should stop now." you gulp.

"Was it too much?" Hyunjin's voice is raspy and something throbs inside you.

"Yeah."

"You wanted to practice." he adds, his eyes glued to your lips.

You didn't know what to say. Suddenly, you felt so confused about your feelings.

It's not like you never imagined kissing your best friend or being in a relationship with him but it always seemed to you like you would never be able to cross that barrier.

Being Hyunjin's best friend was familiar, comfortable, you didn't want to spoil that.

"What's wrong?" Hyunjin asks, seeing the cogs turning in your head.

"Hyunjin, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Pretending to be my boyfriend." you sit up so he follows.

"Because you asked me to? I wanted to help you." Hyunjin lies through his teeth and you can read it now. It's like everything became clear to you.

"Would you really be happy if I got together with Minho?"

Hyunjin's stomach churns and anything good he felt just moments ago when he was kissing you disappears and is replaced by a feeling of nausea.

He averts his eyes from you, nervously biting on his lip.

"Hyunjin?"

"No. No, I wouldn't be happy." he admits quietly, his eyes trained on his lap, unable to look at you.

"Why?" you ask.

"Why? Why? Is it not obvious, y/n?" he says and your eyes meet.

"I love you, that's why." Hyunjin feels the weight of his hidden feelings finally lifting from his heart.

Your lips tremble as you stare at him in shock.

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

You suddenly get up, the reality of the situation dawning on you.

"You've loved me this whole time? And I never realized? And I asked you to fake date me to make another guy jealous and you- you went with it." your eyes well up with tears. "Oh my god, I am so stupid and insensitive!"

Hyunjin gets up too, quickly wanting to comfort you.

"No, y/n it's okay, I wanted to help you! I mean, if you're happy, I'm happy too even if it's not with me." you can hear the pain in his voice when he says that and your chest hurts.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"It's okay if you don't love me like I love you, I can't force you to feel the same." Hyunjin shakes his head.

"It's not like that... It's just; I need to process all of this." you back away from him as he looks at you, sadness in his eyes.

You can't look at him in that moment.

"Do you want me to leave?" his voice is quiet and small when he asks that.

"Yeah, I need to be alone."

Hyunjin doesn't say anything at first, only grabs his things as you stare at the wall, your brain on overdrive.

"Call me when you're ready to talk." he says and you nod, watching his back as he leaves your room.

As soon as you hear the apartment door close, you break into tears.

How could you've been so blind? Hyunjin was always right next to you, he was your person, your comfort, your best friend.

He did everything to make you happy, even indulging you in dumb requests like this one and now that he told you how he feels, everything started flooding in.

The way he'd hold you, the way he looked at you, the way he blushed when you touched his hand, how he seemed annoyed when you told him about Minho.

You were beating yourself up for being so stupid and hurting him when deep inside you always knew you loved him too.

But now, you were afraid that you'd also hurt Minho if he liked you.

So you decided to test that.

-

The next morning, Hyunjin was already awake when his alarm rang, a sleepless night behind him filled with tears and scenarios of you not being a part of his life anymore.

He screwed up, confessing like that, in the heat of the moment.

He can't forget your face, how shocked and sad you looked and how you didn't even wanna look at his face.

Hyunjin still waits for you at your meeting spot, hoping you'll arrive with a smile and a cup of coffee like you always do.

But as minutes pass, with a heavy heart, Hyunjin realizes you're not coming so he reluctantly makes his way to class alone.

His heart freezes when he walks into the building and sees you talking to Minho.

Unable to look at that, he quickly walks into class, sitting at his usual spot.

This is a disaster, he thinks.

If he just kept his mouth shut, you'd be here sitting next to him now, joking around and laughing like you always do.

If he'd kept it all in, maybe he'd have just a glimpse of how it would feel to be yours.

Maybe you'd have that sleepover you always do, when you fall asleep in his arms and Hyunjin can pretend you're his.

But you never come into class, even after Minho did, sitting up front at his usual spot, smiling at the boy next to him.

Hyunjin frowns and stands up, quickly making his way out before the class started as he searches for you.

He finds you sitting on one of the benches outside, looking exhausted and sad.

He wants to run to you but instead he decides to approach you slowly.

"Y/n?" he leans down to look at you and you scoff.

"Minho has a boyfriend."

"What?" Hyunjin asks.

"Minho. He's gay. Or whatever. He's dating Jisung. And I'm just so stupid." you frown as Hyunjin takes in the information.

You can hear the laughter bubbling up inside him.

"Go ahead, laugh at my embarrassment, I know you want to." you look at him and he does just that.

Hyunjin starts laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation and as you see his cute face becoming red from the laughter, you can't stay serious.

Breaking into giggles yourself, the two of you probably end up looking like a pair of maniacs as you keep laughing.

"You were really barking up the wrong tree." he sits next to you and you smack his arm, making him whine.

"Stop it, at least let some time pass before you start making jokes about this." you pout and he chuckles at you, finding you so endearing at that moment.

Without thinking, Hyunjin tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and you feel your face warm up.

"I'm sorry for dumping all my feelings on you. I didn't wanna make anything awkward and that is not the way I wanted to confess. Actually... I wanted to confess to you that day when you told me about Minho." Hyunjin says.

"Oh my god! When you asked me to meet up? I am double stupid." you groan, smacking your forehead with your palm.

"It's fine. We can be friends, I'll just try to-"

"Hyunjin." you stop him.

"Hm?"

"I love you too. And I'm sorry for not realizing that before and hurting you."

"Oh. Oh!" Hyunjin's eyes are wide. "You feel the same?"

You chuckle at his surprised expression, needing him close so you wrap your arms around his waist, scooting closer to him, your face buried in his chest.

Hyunjin feels relief wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, his hand caressing your head.

"Does this mean you want to be mine?" he asks breathlessly.

"Oh, I always was." you look up at him with a smile and he giggles, his heart beating fast.

"I'm gonna kiss you now." he leans in.

"Please do." you chuckle and he cradles your head in his hand as his lips press gently into yours.

This kiss feels even more special, the confession between you melting through your lips as you taste each other.

"Wanna ditch classes and get some coffee?" you ask when you part.

"With you, always."

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun

[lyrefromthesea]

i imagine Giyuu to be extremely touch-starved. now imagine him suddenly gaining interest in another person.

it's not his fault, really, he just didn't have the time to form proper bonds with other people. he couldn't live with normal people, they wouldn't understand. he couldn't talk with the other hashira, he wasn't worthy and yet he still had to stand next to them.

then he met you, perhaps he had seen you on a former mission, but decided to ignore you. you weren't like the other hashira, you didn't think you deserved their rank.

"i wouldn't have survived without the other demon slayers. they had my back", he heard you say to Mitsuri once. you were modest and didn't boast. over time he found his gaze lingering on you whenever a meeting took place. perhaps he had imagined it, but when he found you sitting next to him, he could only think of the first meeting you attended. you had been on the other side of the room far away from him, now you were close.

when did you start greeting him? he couldn't remember, but he started answering. he found himself appreciating your small conversations with him. suddenly it felt normal to sit next to you during your meetings.

and even today he would silently sit next to you, glancing at you ever so often. however, when the meeting ended, something unusual happened. your fingers brushed against his and his eyes widened just a bit. he looked at you, his eyes meeting yours.

"apologies, Tomioka. i should really watch what i'm doing." you chuckled, soon leaving the meeting like everyone else. he watched you go, his hand still tingling from your soft touch. your voice was still ringing in his ears.

he found himself back in his estate, clenching his fingers. his hands were rough from years of fighting. yours were softer, there was a clear difference. his body had felt hotter since you've touched him accidentally.

he imagined your hand in his, would you enjoy it as much as him? he hoped so, the urge to touch your skin had suddenly grown so strong.

no, that wasn't it, it was something else. and when he imagined your delicate hands trailing down his uniform, he knew why his body suddenly felt so hot.

the once quiet room now was filled with quiet pants and shaky breaths. his uniform was thrown on the other side of his bed, completely forgotten. he couldn't think of such unimportant things, not when he was focused on squeezing his cock just right.

he sat on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking up and down, occasionally rubbing his hand over the tip and letting out a grunt. he had tried keeping his thoughts together, he really did, but they would always come back to you.

he didn't want it to turn out this lewd, but it somehow made him feel better when he thought of you being here with him. would you stroke him slowly, trying to coax sweet moans out of him? would you be rough, giggling at his sudden groans? the thought made his head spin, his hand squeezing his cock a bit tighter.

he could never tell you, never risk ruining your current relationship, but he wanted to feel your pretty hand wrapped around his cock so bad. it wasn't hard to imagine it, not when you were so beautiful and so nice.

he could see it right in front of him, your tender hands would be wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping it up and down. your lips would be curled up in a smile, watching him fuck your fist, bucking his hips up. he would try to stay composed, but both of you knew he wanted it.

he felt himself grow closer, much earlier than he would like to admit, his strokes speeding up, getting rougher. he wondered if you would let him cum immediately or if you would tell him to wait just a bit, only to tease him. "Giyuu, i want you to cum.. can you do that for me..?" you would coo, earning an eager nod and a few gasps from him.

he grunted, his eyes snapping open when he felt his cock twitch in his hand. he felt his muscles tense, his seed shooting out in ropes. he lightly bucked into his hand - it was the one you touched earlier. he quietly grunted, getting up to clean the mess and yet the lingering thought of you remained in his mind.

he would've prefered the sight much more on your hand.

[bblairxe]

— ୨ৎ needy ! ellie x reader . mdni

    “fuck baby, please, please untie me”

    ellie pissed you off, completely pissed you off. it started with just an innocent yap session, her back flushed against her headboard and your thighs straddling her lap. you were ranting about your new interest and how much it meant to you. going on and on about how dull you felt before discovering it, and that it changed your life completely. 

    she was listening, well trying her best to listen, but it was just so, so hard. she kept getting lost in the way your eyes lit up when you would go into depth about it, or how your lips curled up into the sweetest smile. 

    you would notice though, all of her nods and ‘mhms’ would just fade into silence and a still head. 

    “ellie, ellie!” her eyes snap back to yours, pulling her out of her thoughts. “did you hear me?” 

    she gives you a clueless expression, but still slowly nods her head, dragging out a long ‘yes’.

    “oh yeah, then what did i say?” your arms cross over your chest, obviously you’re not convinced. the girl has been staring at your lips for the past 5 minutes! 

    “you were talking about the, um, the uh, solar system!” her tone is confident, but you can tell she hasn’t heard shit you said. regardless, you let her pass and continue rambling on. 

    for once, she actually starts listening again. nodding her head, asking questions, humming after every couple of sentences. it was actually really sweet, like a bonding moment for the two of you. well, that’s until you get too excited and bounced on her lap. 

    her chest tightened, you were clueless but the impact sent a shock to her cunt. she tightened her hold on your hips to stabilize herself, but that didn’t work either. her eyes fell down to your white, floral tank top, and the way they hugged your boobs perfectly. she knew she was faltering again, but damn did you look good.

    yes, her hands on your her hips were to just help her maintain composure, but she has other things in mind. according to her, if you stay in this exact position and just pushed your lower half a little closer to hers, she’d be relieving that ache in her core.

    so she tried it, and god did it feel good. 

    she kept her eyes trained on your face, being attentive but with a different focus. her hands rested on your hips and pushed them, ever so slightly, to her heat. it connects and it takes every ounce of her to not let out the whiniest noise ever.

    every time the two of you meet, her hips buck up. her lip is taught between her teeth, trying to conceal those noises that are fighting to come out. she took in every part of you, her eyes now glued onto chest, staring at how your tits slightly jiggle with each movement.

    you’re not oblivious to whole situation. it’s affecting you too, but you just have a better way of hiding it than ellie. you look down at her face and it’s absolutely pathetic. her mouth is agape, formed into a little o - shape, small gasps leaving her lips. her eyes are doe - eyed, with teary lashes. poor baby feels so good she starts tearing up. 

    she noticed you stopped talking, your eyes burning into her face. an immediate stream of apologies come out, but she doesn’t stop her movements. in fact, they’re more intense, more desperate.

    “s - sorry, didn’t mean too — mmh, ahhh — didn’t mean too, m’ sorry baby, feels so good,” 

    her head falls backwards, giving you complete access to her neck. you lean down, sucking until small purple bruises dot the skin, like a twisted painting. the feeling elicits a loud whine from her, nails digging into your sides as if she’ll die if you leave.

    your lips come up to hear ear, grazing it and whisper, “i know, baby. hope i’m making you feel good right now, you’ll be begging for more later.”

    and that’s how she ended up here. 

    her hands were now restricted above her head  by your favorite dark red handcuffs. it’s a beautiful sight, really. ellie all tied up for you, her legs spread and hips bucking in search for friction. every sentence that leaves her lips is either a string of apologies or promises to make you feel good. 

    you on the other hand had your legs splayed out in front of her, fucking your fingers in and out of your pussy. you knew it didn’t feel the same, nothing could compare to the way ellie fucks you, but you still had to put on a show.

    “fuck,” draws out from your lips, your breath hitching dramatically. you drag your fingers out for a second then, plunging them back deep into you. a soft, shaky moan slips and you know it’s driving ellie crazy. 

    her pupils are blown out as she watches you. her knuckles turn white, fingers twitching like she can feel the ghost of your skin against hers. another metal clank echoes throughout the bedroom from her tugging at her restraints, begging, pleading to be released. “baby, i’m sorry, you look so pretty, and i promise i’ll make you feel good. just please, please, please, please.”

    your fingers slow down, but still curling enough to release small moans. you watch as she tries to rut against nothing, seeking relief she won’t get. 

    “you wanna make me feel good?” you hum, kneading your chest with your free hand. 

    she nods frantically, her mouth parts to speak but you shoot her a look that silences her. “yeah?  and what makes you think you deserve that?” you drag your fingers out of your cunt, spreading it for her. 

    she gawks at the sight, drool nearly spilling out of her lips. “b-because i fucked up, and i wanna make it up to you, please.” 

    you’re amused to say the least, seeing her need to please you sends a wave of possessiveness and control through your body. a smile forms at her desperation, tilting your head in a condescending way. 

    “oh, love. you’re gonna have to do a lot more begging than that.”

🏷️ : @ellieslosttwofingers @polarhues @pornoangelz @sapphichounded