#i just casually combusted into flames :')))))))))))

[wendichester]

helloooo! :D I wanted to ask if you’d ever write for cas? It’s completely okay if not, only do what YOU want <33

BUT I also had a thought so hear me out:

Dean calling the reader a pet name for the first time, and not really realizing what he said but the reader is just like 😵‍💫 all blushy caught off guard because THE Dean Winchester just called her honey as if they didn’t confess like a week ago 🧍🏻‍♀️

remember to eat and hydrate, I hope you sleep well too💙

-💫

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆🔧 honey,

summary. you're dean's honey .ᐟ

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 469

notes. this is just wholesome and... relatable. and i'd definitely be down to write for our sweet sassy angel cas! do you have a specific scenario in mind? 👀

The clang of tools against the Impala’s hood fills the garage, a melody as familiar as breathing. You’re perched on a stool nearby, half-focused on the book in your lap, but mostly on Dean. His hands move deftly as he tinkers under the hood, a smear of grease streaked across his jaw.

“Pass me the wrench, would ya?” he says, glancing at you with those green eyes that always manage to make your stomach flutter.

You nod, leaning over the workbench to grab it. When you hand it to him, his fingers brush yours—just a brief, fleeting touch, but enough to send a spark racing through you.

“Thanks, honey,” he mutters absently, turning back to the car.

Your brain short-circuits.

Honey?

Did Dean Winchester just call you honey?

You blink, replaying the moment in your head to make sure you didn’t imagine it. No, you’re sure of it. He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The book in your lap is forgotten as you try to process the anomaly. A week ago, you and Dean finally confessed your feelings for each other, and while things have been a bit more... touchy-feely, this? This is new.

“Uh… you good over there?” Dean’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts. He glances at you again, brows furrowed slightly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, totally fine,” you blurt, your face heating up.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “You sure? You’re lookin’ a little pink.”

“I’m not pink,” you mumble, pulling the book back into your lap and staring at it like it holds the secrets to the universe.

Dean shrugs, clearly oblivious to the bombshell he’s just dropped on you, and goes back to work. But the damage is done. The word honey keeps bouncing around in your head, making your heart race and your palms sweaty.

Minutes pass, and you try desperately to regain your composure. But then Dean turns to you again, wiping his hands on a rag. “You wanna grab lunch? Burgers sound good?”

“Sure,” you manage, your voice a little too high.

Dean tilts his head, his smirk widening. “Seriously, what’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” you protest, even though you’re about two seconds away from combusting.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “C’mon, let’s go, honey.”

There it is again.

You let out a small squeak, your cheeks flaming as you follow him out of the garage. Dean doesn’t even notice, but you’re left reeling, wondering how someone can casually call you honey and not realize they’re turning you into a puddle.

And as you climb into the passenger seat of the Impala, you can’t help but smile, even through your embarrassment. You're Dean Winchester’s honey.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles

[p0orbaby]

Could you go an request for Leah Williamson x Reader.

Leah has a crush on reader, no one knows except for Alessia who caught her watching edits of reader. The team are in the gym, doing pulls up, weights all that stuff. And Leah can’t keep her eyes off you. Getting turned on by the movements and flex muscles. Alessia seeing this teases her through-out the whole time.

-

The gym reeks of dedication, effort, and that specific brand of post-workout musk that no amount of designer deodorant can hide. It’s all heavy bass music, the metallic clang of weights, and the occasional grunt from someone pretending this is their 15th rep, not their fourth. You’re mid-pull-up, arms flexing in a way that looks almost unfair to the human eye. Leah, meanwhile, is failing miserably at playing it cool.

She’s not even trying, really. She’s perched on a bench with a dumbbell that’s more decorative than functional, staring at you like you’re the last goal in stoppage time. Her gaze keeps flicking from your biceps to your shoulders, her jaw tightening whenever you move.

“Subtle,” Alessia whispers from the treadmill beside her, not even pretending to hide her smirk. She’s seen this before—caught Leah at 11 p.m., huddled over her phone, watching a fan-made TikTok edit of you scoring last season. Leah had looked up, panicked, and slammed her phone down like a teenager caught watching something decidedly not safe for work. Alessia hasn’t let it go since.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leah hisses, trying and failing to keep her eyes on her dumbbell. She gives it a half-hearted curl, immediately setting it down because apparently, five kilos is suddenly too heavy.

“Right,” Alessia drawls, upping the treadmill incline just to feel something. “You’re just admiring the… technique?”

“Exactly”

Your laugh cuts through the gym noise, and Leah flinches, like she’s been caught red-handed. You’re joking with Katie McCabe, something about the pull-up bar being too high for her. Leah swears she’s never been jealous of metal equipment before, but here she is, wishing she were that bar.

“Look at her,” Alessia says, low enough for only Leah to hear. “Flexing, laughing, being all… sweaty”

Leah glares. “Stop”

“Stop what? Observing?” Alessia bats her lashes. “Honestly, it’s inspiring. You should go tell her she’s doing great. Maybe offer to spot her?”

Leah shakes her head, panic flashing across her face. “I’m not that obvious”

Alessia’s grin widens. “Mate, you’re a blinking neon sign. I half expect you to start holding up a banner that says, Please notice me, Reader”

Leah clenches her jaw, staring fixedly at the ground like it’s personally offended her. You’ve moved on to the bench press now, lying back, the muscles in your arms and chest taut as you push the barbell up. Leah makes the mistake of glancing up.

“Christ,” she mutters under her breath, her ears turning red.

“Christ can’t help you,” Alessia quips, leaning forward on the treadmill handles. “You’re done for”

You finish your set, sitting up and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt, inadvertently flashing just the tiniest sliver of toned stomach. Leah, already fighting a losing battle, looks like she might combust.

“Alright, that’s it,” Alessia announces, stepping off the treadmill and grabbing a water bottle. “I can’t watch you suffer like this anymore. Either talk to her, or I’m telling the entire team you’ve got a crush the size of Wembley on her.”

Leah’s eyes widen, and she grabs Alessia’s arm in a death grip. “You wouldn’t”

Alessia just raises an eyebrow. “Try me”

Before Leah can argue, you saunter over, a casual smile on your lips and a towel slung around your neck.

“Hey,” you say, glancing between the two of them. “What’s all this about?”

Leah’s brain short-circuits. Alessia, unbothered and enjoying herself far too much, grins. “Leah was just saying how impressed she is with your form. Weren’t you, Leah?”

Leah stammers something incoherent, her face flaming, and you tilt your head, amused.

“Well,” you say, smirking just enough to make Leah’s pulse spike, “I’m more than happy to book you in for a one-on-one to show you the ropes, if you’d like?”

You walk away before Leah can respond, leaving Alessia in stitches and Leah questioning every decision that led her to this moment.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ 12 3 days of christmas

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𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

✩ : what happens when your best friend decides to play matchmaker at a christmas eve party?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : charles leclerc

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 0.9k

✍︎ : first one-shot of the little christmas series i'm writing. stay tuned!

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

The party was in full swing, the warm glow of the flames coming from the fireplace reflecting off the frosted windows, their faint crackle mingling with the cheerful hum of holiday music. You shifted awkwardly, clutching your champagne flute like a lifeline as you scanned the room.

You weren’t the biggest fan of holiday parties — too many people, half of which you didn’t even know — but your best friend had insisted you come. “Come onnn, it’s Christmas Eve!” she'd said, “I promise it’ll be fun! Besides, you might even meet someone cute,” she’d then added with a teasing wink.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath as you leaned against the kitchen island, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

That’s until your gaze betrayed you, the sound of a warm laughter — his warm laughter — immediately drawing your attention to its owner.

Charles Leclerc.

He stood in the middle of the room, his dark green sweater fitting perfectly, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms. He looked effortlessly charming, the grin lighting up his face making his adorable dimples pop out even more and your chest flutter in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You’d met him a handful of times at gatherings like this through mutual friends, which soon brought you to consider him a friend too, but you’d always convinced yourself he was far too out of your league to even try being something else. Still, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him.

As if sensing your stare, Charles turned his head. His eyes found yours across the room, and for a moment, the noise around you faded into the background. You flashed him an awkward smile, mentally facepalming yourself for getting caught red-handed, but before you could look away, he started making his way toward you through the crowd, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” he simply said when he finally reached you, his voice soft just like the expression on his face.

“Hey,” you repeated, your heart pounding as your cheeks immediately heated up — and surely not from the fire.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” His tone was casual as he leaned slightly against the counter beside you, arms crossed over his chest, clearly a lot more relaxed than you were with the way your fingers were practically strangling the poor glass still between them.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Last-minute decision. My best friend dragged me here because she thought I needed some ‘holiday cheer’.” You put the last two words in air quotes as you rolled your eyes, a pathetic attempt to mask how tense you actually were.

“Well, I think she was right,” Charles replied, his grin widening at your visible annoyance. “And I’m glad she did.”

You averted your gaze as a flustered chuckle escaped your lips, your face flushing — probably as red as the terrible Christmas sweater your friend had begged you to wear.

Just as you opened your mouth to save yourself from embarrassment, someone bumped into you from the side, making you stumble forward. Right into Charles’ chest. His hands shot out instinctively, steadying you with a firm grip on your arms, while yours landed on his shoulders to prevent you from falling.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes searching yours with genuine concern.

You were pretty sure you were about to combust on the spot, but you somehow managed to mumble a confused ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ shooting a glance back at whoever put you in that compromising — to say the least — position.

Oh, of course it had to be her.

The death stare you gave your best friend didn’t seem to faze her for a moment; instead, she gestured upward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Following her gaze, you looked up and froze.

Mistletoe.

Dangling right above your heads.

Charles tilted his head back, noticing it too, the brief confusion on his face replaced by an unreadable expression as he glanced down at you once again.

“Well,” he began, his voice teasing, “you know the tradition.”

You could swear your heart skipped a few beats, the implication of what he’d just said making you feel weak in your knees. “I… uh, we don’t have to–”

“Only if you want to.” His eyes were questioning, waiting for your permission, as your breath caught in your throat at his gentle words. Unable to speak, you just nodded, and a soft, almost relieved smile spread across Charles’ face before his lips found yours.

You breathed in the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies as his mouth brushed against yours, tentative at first, sending a jolt of excitement down your spine. Seeing that you didn’t pull away — and that you weren’t planning on doing so anytime soon — he deepened the kiss, one of his hands sneaking up to the back of your neck while the other one was still holding on to your arm.

You lost yourself in the moment, snuggling yourself into the warmth of his cozy sweater as you savored the kiss like a sip of comforting hot cocoa.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered against your lips, and you could feel the smirk on his even with your eyes closed. Your whispered ‘Merry Christmas’ got muffled by his mouth back on yours, a fleeting thought bringing a smile to your face as well.

Maybe holiday parties are not that bad after all.

-----------------••✩🎅🏻❄️🎄✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[celianity]

Movie Night

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: having your nemesis attend your roommates' movie night takes a turn when some unresolved desires flare back up

Warnings: cursing, mentions of smut

Word count: 1.246

Author's note: would anyone be up for a continuation? _________________________________________

“You seriously bought sour cream and onion?” Emma eyes the bag of chips in Marie’s hand like it is a nuclear bomb.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the snack police?”

“It’s just a movie night, guys. No need to get at each other’s throats.” You try to be the voice of reason, but you are one pointless argument away from combusting into flames.

The drinks are wrong. The snacks are wrong. The placement of seating (for which you bared responsibility) is wrong. Well, there are only so many options to arrange the furniture in a dorm room.

“Shut up,” your roommates respond in unison.

“Nice to see that you can agree on something.” Emma is glaring daggers at you.

On some level, you understand their motives for organizing this night to hang out like normal teenagers for a change.

Things at the school have been slowly going downhill while you and your friends are still in the dark about most of the details. Too many questions, too little answers.

You can’t shake the feeling that that’s the motto for tonight too, but you wouldn’t dare to say that out loud. Marie would probably strangle you with her blood powers.

So, you have no choice but to suppress your annoyance, pull up an action movie on the flat screen TV by the door and fluff the pillows on Emma’s bed one last time.

Marie hands you a bowl of chips while announcing that Andre and Cate will not be the only ones attending tonight’s comfortable activities. Her lopsided smile does not soften the blow in the slightest like intended.

“Are you kidding me?” you groan out in frustration. “You can’t just invite my nemesis into my fucking bedroom.”

Marie shrugs her shoulders. “Technically, it’s our bedroom, so I’m allowed to invite whoever I please.”

Emma rushes to Marie’s defense, “Maybe that’s a good thing. Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer. Understanding them better might help you finally break into the Top Five.”

You intend to outrank Jordan Li with talent and power.

Not by studying their profile in the flickering light of a movie.

Not by watching their fingers grasp for the last crumbs of chips in the bowl.

And certainly not by wondering what they might be wearing to such a casual event. A tiny voice in the back of your head suggests a pair of grey sweatpants and you suddenly feel the urge to punch yourself in the face.

Instead, you hurry to build up that protective wall in your mind to hold back the quickly resurfacing memory fragments.

Hot breath on your swollen lips. Curious fingers, tracing patterns on a toned stomach, muscles tensing under your touch, wandering southwards. Feeling their need on your fingertips. Feeling your own, searing in the pit of your stomach. Hitching, matching breaths.

Oh, for fucks sake, Marie, what have you done?

---

You loathe feeling weak but that was exactly what pushed you into Jordan’s arms one lonely night a few days ago.

After failing yet again to access the full potential of your powers and expressing your frustration about the matter cursing like a sailor, you were looking for a distraction to blow off some steam.

And there they were, hastily typing away on their phone in the locker room of the training facility.

“Sounds like you have a shitty night too,” they observe, back turned to you, pulling their hair together into a ponytail.

When your eyes finally meet in the dimly lit room, you both know this is inevitable.

---

The movie’s quite entertaining, but you have to resist the urge to continuously let your eyes wander to Emma’s bed where Jordan occupies the spot at the edge, farthest away from you.

Emma and Marie block your view a bit with their legs upright.

From your own spot in the desk chair next to the bed, you restrain from craning your neck.

Andre and Cate are on the floor in front of you, totally engrossed by the plot of the film.

Of course, Jordan’s wearing those damn sweatpants, leaving little to the imagination. They waltzed in here, all tall and lean frame, running a hand through their short dark hair, flexing their bicep in the process.

You received a barely noticeable smirk in exchange for a pointed look.

---

Your staring’s getting obvious.

Your phone screen lights up in the dark, earning an annoyed sigh from Marie. At first, you don’t recognize the unknown number, but it doesn’t take you long to connect the dots.

Stealing phone numbers now? That’s really depressing.

You dim the brightness of your display and roll your chair back as quietly as possible to further shield if from prying eyes.

Must be able to contact you in the event of an emergency.

You frown, catching a glimpse of Jordan’s fingers typing again. Their irritatingly pretty face illuminated by soft blue light.

You’ve been avoiding me.

You’re not sure where this conversation is going, so you try to put an end to it as fast as possible.

I’m a busy person.

And I’m fucking sick of it.

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard, afraid to make a wrong move that would burst this bubble of sudden tension.

That sounds like a you problem.

You take the safe route, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

Maybe you’ve trouble remembering, but you came on to me. Practically ambushing me in the dead of night.

Oh, fuck you.

Yeah, I’d hope that’s what you plan on doing tonight.

You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks and begin typing again. Two can play this game.

If you ask nicely. I recall you’re good at begging.

Jordan’s laughter merges into an awkward coughing fit and you have to bite your tongue when Emma offers them a glass of water.

Getting a reaction fuels your… ambition. You’re getting bolder, tired of tiptoeing around the topic.

You know what else I recall? A fucking sleepless night after getting interrupted by that janitor. The imprints of your fingers all over my skin, between my legs, deep inside. Wishing every curve and hard edge of you up against me again in the dark. And no goddamn release.

The images come crashing down like a wave and you shift your weight, parting your thighs slightly, needing to get out of your own skin.

Jordan is catching onto your drift.

The image of you kneeling in front of me seared itself onto my brain. Those soft lips parted, ready to take every goddamn inch. I still feel your hair strands around my fingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, in the flickering light of the TV, Jordan suddenly switches to their female form.

“That’s it, I’ve had enough,” Emma declares, startling everyone in their seats.

Andre pauses the movie, him and Cate turning to see what she is on about.

You hide your knowing grin behind a yawn. It is a small victory, but at what cost? You’re itching to tear your clothes along with your skin from your burning body.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I wish to be excluded from this narrative until you two have sorted it out. Emotionally, physically, or whatever.”

The silence is deafening. Almost guiltily, Jordan puts their phone aside, you follow suit.

“It’s like watching a movie in the middle of a fucking porn shoot. Now, if everyone agrees to behave themselves, can we continue, please?”

[blackleatherjacketz]

If you are taking reqs for fics, you should totally do one where reader is sore from training or something else(😏) and Miguel offers to massage readers legs, in which turns into him eating reader out!

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel insists on helping you stretch out your hamstrings.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Mature Content, Mutual Pining, Sassy Miguel, Persuasion, Power Dynamics, Dom Miguel, Touch-Starved Reader, Avoidant Reader, Thigh Stretching, Thigh Riding, Thigh Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Miguel Using His Nose *Creatively*

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes: I hope you like this, Nonny! It got a way from me a bit:)

Read my other MIGUEL stories!

“You’re doing it wrong.” His voice is slick like oil as it spreads through the air and into your ears, coating you in its deliciously dark warmth as he approaches you from behind.

“Oh really?” You keep your palms pressed against the wall as that warmth intensifies, stretching the muscles in your calf as you feel the heat from his breath reach the back of your neck. “How so?”

“You’ve been groaning every time you stand up from your chair.” The weight of the mat beneath your feet shifts and bends with each step he takes toward you until he stops just a few inches short, inhaling a little longer than normal before speaking again. “That stretch isn’t going to help your hamstrings any.”

“No?” You keep your back to him, switching legs before continuing your usual stretches to ease your well-earned muscle pain. “Maybe my calves hurt, did you ever think about that?”

“I can help with those, too.” That dark, inky tambre oozes itself around your body, dripping down your torso and into your core as his words blow a few strands of hair away from your shoulder.

It’s only a matter of seconds now before he touches you, before that black abyss takes you under completely; rendering you helpless against his charm that you’ve been trying to ignore these past few weeks. Those innocent looks he stole from you across the room had quickly morphed into longing gazes that kept you up at night, spurning a fire inside that could only be stoked by one thing. You wonder if being submerged in this desire with him is something that could put this flame out for good; or if succumbing to your primal urges would only ignite this chemical reaction into a combustion impossible to recover from.

“By mansplaining my own stretches to me?” You bring yourself out of your own head and lean further into the wall, extending your muscle in a slow, aching release as he stands still behind you.

“I’m not…” he trails off, backing away only slightly. “I’m not mansplaining.”

“Really?” You finally turn to face him and notice that instead of his usual red and blue suit, he’s wearing shorts and a tank top to match your own. A fresh stain of sweat dampens the worn down collar that stretches across his muscular chest, testing your resolve even further as you try to keep your cool with a casual wink. “What would you call it then, huh?”

You turn to walk away from him, stopping only as he instinctively grabs hold of your arm in a quick attempt to keep you near. He steals another glance, stalling your departure with a gentle tug back in his direction, only this one lasts a little longer than those before it. This one allows you to see the varying colors of red, brown and black in his eyes as they carefully study your face, matching the color of that dark, salacious fluid that reaches the very tips of your toes and glues your feet to the ground.

Uh oh.

Now you’re sinking.

“You’re touching me,” you point out, glancing down at his hand before looking back up at his gorgeous face.

“Do you want me to stop?” The boldness of his question forces you to inhale as his fingers encircle your wrist, his calloused fingertips sending a rush of warmth up your arm as they gently pull you in even closer.

Well, do you?

“No,” you whisper, barely able to recognize your own voice as the word allows him to trace his way up your forearm. “No, I don’t,” you clarify.

“Then what do you want?” He asks again, his voice dropping an octave as it vibrates in his chest.

You shiver in silence as his thumb nestles into the crook of your arm, grazing back and forth over its delicate skin like a pendulum, raising the tiny hairs on your skin as he awaits your answer. His lips are closer than they’d ever been before, full and parted as you allow him to alter your center of gravity with another gentle pull. You’re close enough now to smell his sweat as it mixes in with the sandalwood of his cologne, that intoxicating concoction making it that much harder for you to resist sinking down any further.

“I want you to touch me.” You finally give in, figuring you have nothing left to lose with his breath now hot on your cheek. “I want you to keep touching me.”

“Good,” he smirks as if that’s all he’s been waiting for, nodding his head toward the space behind you. “Now get on the mat, flat on your back.”

Like one of his new recruits you follow his orders blindly, surrendering to this inevitable seduction as you cautiously lay down at his feet.

“Now, I know you’re allergic to accepting help from anyone else, but you’re holding back when you stretch, you know that?” He wastes no time in taking your foot into his hand before pushing your leg up toward you, straightening it out just enough to make you wince. “That’s why you’re still groaning every time you stand up.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you laugh, trying to ignore his pelvis as it presses against you, stretching your inner thigh out even more than you were capable of doing by yourself. You groan again as he pushes your body to its limit, his palm snug against your calf as he extends it up to the level of your head, pinning your opposite thigh in place with his hip. You hiss as a sharp pain quickly follows, shooting its way up the synapses of your largest muscle as he continues to splay you apart.

“Miguel,” you stifle a whimper as he grins, a glint of his fangs showing as that pain burns its way through the rest of that muscle group.

“Oh, it’s gonna hurt before it feels better, mami,” he goads, stretching you out even further as his pelvis grinds against yours, the evidence of his arousal more than damning.

“I know, I just…” You pause as the expression on his chiseled features changes from playful to knowing, his endlessly dark eyes glancing down at your junction before looking back up at your face.

“You’re soaking wet.” He keeps his hand on your leg while snaking the other between you two, testing the polyester layer of your shorts for the moisture that you both know is there.

Words fail as your jaw falls open in disbelief, that smug look on his face interrupted only by a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as he touches you.

“I know you’ve been trying to hide it for as long as you can, mami.” He rubs your swollen lips up and down over the cloth, forcing that all encompassing heat to burn like molten hot lava deep inside your core. “But I can smell it on you the second you walk into a room; the change in your hormones, the sweetness of your sweat, and even this.”

You moan pathetically as he pulls your shorts to the side, sliding his fingers beneath them to collect your juices and spread them up and down your length. “No panties either, huh? Turns out I was right about you.”

“Jesus, Miguel,” you plead, grasping onto his forearm just to make sure that he stays close enough to keep kindling your flame.

“Your body’s never gonna lie to me about what it wants.” He leans down and pushes his fingers inside of you, grinning against your ear as you nod helplessly in agreement. “No matter how hard you fucking try.”

He presses his thumb against your clit while kissing his way down your neck, shoulder and knee as he continues to hold your leg in its prolonged stretch. His hungry lips leave a delicious trail down the bottom of your thigh that grows more sensitive as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your burning desire with such delicate ease only he could bring forth.

“There’s no way you’re gonna relax enough for this stretch to work,” he teases. “Not like this, anyways.”

He kisses the skin around your hips, releasing his grip on your leg just enough to let it fall onto his shoulder as he lowers himself down your body. “Now, if only there was a way I could get you to relax...” He looks up at you with nearly blackened eyes, reminding you of that onyx slick as it mixes with the sparks and embers his fingers send into your core before he licks a stripe up your dripping wet center.

Without another word, he parts your folds with his nose before tasting your inner layer, savoring the mere taste of your scent as he rubs his face all over it like a warrior with his paint. He allows himself to get lost in your unique flavor, marking himself with your sex as he all but forgets to hold onto your thigh as his tongue traces over every inch of your lower lips. His mouth encompasses you entirely as his fingers continue to work inside you, pumping spark after spark of pleasure up into the molten core of your body before drenching your swollen bud in his sensual spit.

You find yourself running your fingers through his auburn locks as he takes your clit between his teeth, licking and sucking on it with eyes fixated only on you as your hips rock in tandem with the rhythm of his wrist. His fingers pound deep inside you as he hums against your bud, brushing against that bundle of nerves until that flame inside you finally bursts into an eruption of ecstasy you’d never even thought possible. Every nerve in your body ignites in a series of blissful explosions, catching fire the more he devours your raw flesh until you’re crying out and violently shaking beneath him, completely combusted.

That pain in your thigh seems to disappear entirely as a healing wave of warmth coats your skin and muscles, vibrating in your bones as he moans his approval into your well spent sex with one last lick.

“I think that oughta do it.”

[ssa-dado]

Barbri Legal Handbook - SOS

Aaron Hotchner × fem!bau!reader

Gernre: fluff

Summary: It's a surprise. Philosopher & Lawyer doing Philosopher and Lawyer things... (In the cozy warmth of their new home, amidst unpacked boxes and playful banter, a teasing challenge unfolds between you and Aaron Hotchner while you refuse to unpack his legal handbook)

Warnings: Don’t read this in public

Word Count: 3.2k

Dado's Corner: pHi wHy dO yOu oNly wRiTe sAd sToRiEs?!?! HAPPY? Now, brace yourself for another day or two of Philosopher for Lawyer content starvation. Set *REDACTED* years in the future, of course. Though, I must say, I firmly believe it's far more painful to know exactly how they are together rather than simply imagining it. Remember, ignorance is bliss!

masterlist

Boxes lay scattered across the room, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. The warm, cozy glow wrapped around you both as you worked amidst the chaos of unpacking, but your eyes remained fixed on the last unopened box, a box you had no intention of touching.

Aaron lounged comfortably in the armchair, wearing a short-sleeved polo that showcased his muscular arms, the veins visible beneath his skin every time he moved. His casual, relaxed posture made him look like a living sculpture, a Greek statue in repose, your favorite one.

“Love, you’ve been staring at that box for minutes,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, the dimples in his smile deepening as he watched you. “What’s wrong?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be stern, but you couldn’t stop the way your gaze lingered on the way his biceps flexed with each shift. “I’m not touching your Barbri legal handbook,” you said. “I swear I’ll burst into flames if I even touch anything remotely related to law.”

Aaron’s lips twitched with amusement, his eyes shining with a familiar, teasing challenge. “That can’t be true,” he replied, deadpan. “You touched me last night - a lot - and yet, here you are. No signs of combustion.” The deliberate innuendo hung in the air as he watched the flush creep up your cheeks.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you gasped, caught off guard by his brazenness. “Someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight,” you shot back, attempting to sound stern, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. He knew he had you, and the triumphant glimmer in his eyes confirmed it.

His grin widened, the playful mischief in his gaze unmistakable. “I’d be fine with that,” he said, his eyes lazily scanning the room. “But we don’t even have a couch yet. All we have is this armchair - and honestly, I don’t mind, since you always end up right here,” he teased, patting his lap with a deliberate, slow movement.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers along the back of the chair, feeling the fabric under your touch as you leaned in. “Maybe you’ll end up on the carpet, then, Hotchner,” you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, almost seductive tone as his eyes darkened, the playful atmosphere deepening with a palpable charge.

He arched a brow, his wicked smile broadening, dimples showing. “Fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a thrill through you. “But don’t pretend you wouldn’t join me there. You’d miss me too much.”

You moved even closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in, until you were only inches away. “Oh, I’d make you earn that privilege,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing, your fingers sliding down to rest on the armrests, caging him in.

Your closeness heightened the tension between you - thick, unspoken, and electric.

Aaron’s hands moved deliberately, his fingers slipping around your waist to rest on your hips. He traced slow, lazy circles with his thumbs, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. “Would you?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire, pulling you closer until you hovered over his lap, the distance between you nearly gone.

“Absolutely,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. The anticipation crackled between you like a live wire, drawing you closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, the intensity in his gaze making your heart skip.

With a smooth, confident movement, Aaron pulled you down onto his lap, his strong hands guiding you to straddle him. A surprised gasp escaped you as your thighs brushed against his, his arms wrapping around your waist, settling you snugly against his chest. His muscles flexed beneath the fabric of his polo, and you could feel the heat of his skin radiating through your clothes, his steady breaths mingling with yours.

“Try me,” you murmured, your lips so close to his ear that they barely grazed it, your breath hot against his skin.

Aaron’s response was slow and deliberate, a deep, low chuckle vibrating through his chest as he lifted his face to yours. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing a teasing, feather-light kiss that left you wanting more.

Then, with a precision that only he could master, he began to move down - each kiss purposeful, perfectly aimed.

He traced the line of your jaw, lingering at the curve where your pulse fluttered, a gentle pressure that made your breath catch. He moved down the side of your neck, his lips lingering longer at each spot that made you shudder. It was as if he had memorized every inch of your skin, every place that sent a rush of warmth through you, every reaction mapped out in his mind.

He kissed lower, slow and controlled, the softness of his lips against the tender skin below your ear sending a shiver down your spine. He paused there, pressing a slow, savoring kiss as if daring you to hold onto your resolve. Your body betrayed you, your eyes fluttering shut, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You felt your defenses waver, but somehow you stayed firm.

“No physical contact for the first 30 minutes tonight,” you managed to say, though your voice was unsteady, breathy. A teasing smile curved your lips as you drew a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the strong, rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your touch. You knew how much he needed you, how each carefully placed kiss affected him just as deeply as it did you.

Aaron’s gaze turned molten, his lips parting slightly as he caught your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his chest, holding you there as if to ground himself. “The maximum I can give you is five minutes,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that made the air between you feel even hotter. His breath, warm and teasing, mingled with yours, making your pulse quicken.

“Ten,” you countered, your voice firm despite the thundering of your own heartbeat. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, the playful challenge lighting a fire in both your eyes.

Aaron’s expression softened with a deeper emotion - affection, desire, and a quiet challenge - as he leaned in closer, brushing a tender, feather-light kiss against the tip of your nose. The gesture was gentle, careful, as if relishing the anticipation, the build-up that had always been uniquely yours.

Then, he pulled back just enough, leaving you yearning for more, the tension simmering hot and heavy between you. “Deal,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive drawl that made your whole body feel like it was on fire. “But what you just did? That’s called a negotiation, Lawyer.”

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, the heat between you sparking like a live wire. The space between you was practically nonexistent, your breaths mingling as the unspoken tension hung heavy in the air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to buy a house with you?" you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you inched closer, your noses almost touching.

Aaron's eyes darkened with that familiar confidence, his voice dropping to a low, velvet tone. “Because of consideration, promissory estoppel, and the ironclad nature of mutual agreements,” he said, savoring your reaction, the way your breath hitched at each word. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And let’s not forget the legal concept of specific performance, which ensures I get exactly what I want... every time.”

You laughed softly, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "Damn lawyers and their silver tongues," you muttered, though your eyes gave you away as they softened with affection. You pressed yourself closer to him, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting cocoon.

Aaron’s gaze smoldered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that vibrated through you. "You weren’t complaining last night… in fact, you seemed particularly appreciative when my tongue was somewhere else," he teased, each word deliberate, sending a flutter through your stomach.

“Don’t get too cocky, Hotchner,” you countered, though your fingers betrayed you, trailing slowly over the sharp line of his jaw, lingering as if savoring every inch. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and the subtle curl of his smile told you he noticed how much he affected you.

His expression shifted, his gaze sharpening with intensity as his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you just a little closer. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles, sending sparks up your spine. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, filling the space between you. “Pretending you don’t love every second of this - while you’re wearing my wedding ring, carrying my last name.” His words dripped with playful confidence, his eyes daring you to argue while knowing full well you wouldn’t.

Your heart raced, the heat of his breath on your skin making your pulse quicken. “Oh, I only did that because you wouldn’t stop bragging about how all the Hotchners are lawyers,” you shot back playfully, your voice barely above a whisper. “And someone had to keep Sean company. Besides, Jack needed at least one sane parent.”

A deep, rumbling laugh escaped Aaron’s chest, his forehead pressing gently against yours, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve. “Lucky for me,” he whispered, his lips hovering just a breath away, “you’re the perfect balance of sanity and chaos.”

“Perfect enough to drive you crazy?” you teased, your lips barely brushing his as you spoke, the heat of his breath fanning over your skin. The anticipation between you grew unbearable, each second stretching out as the tension coiled tighter.

“Absolutely,” Before you could say anything more, his lips finally claimed yours, but it wasn’t rushed - it was slow, deliberate, and consuming. Each kiss unraveled the tension that had been building, his hands sliding up your back with practiced ease, pulling you tighter against him. His lips moved over yours with an intensity that left you breathless, every stroke and caress sending heat through your body.

He kissed you like he knew exactly how much you needed this, taking his time, teasing you with each deep, sensual movement. When you finally felt your control slip, he let you win, leaning into the kiss, surrendering just enough to let you feel that victory. His hands roamed, fingers pressing firmly into your back as though reminding you of his presence, the weight of his touch grounding you in the moment.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your foreheads still pressed together, the shared warmth between you radiating like a slow-burning flame. His breath mingled with yours, and you could feel the heat of his body pulsing through the closeness, the air heavy with the scent of him.

“Finish that box,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, his fingers brushing lightly along your spine, lingering at the small of your back, tracing slow circles. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words hang between you, thick with unspoken promises. “Copy,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of playful defiance, a smirk tugging at your lips. “But let’s get one thing crystal clear - me touching that nasty legal handbook and putting it on the shelf? That’s a violation of my personal moral law, and believe me, I never violate my own maxims. This is not something I take lightly.”

 “There we go,” he murmured with a playful eye roll, he placed a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips warm and lingering against your skin as he pulled you closer into his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, strong and comforting, holding you so tightly you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

You leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with playful defiance, one brow arched. “Consider it undeniable proof of how much I love you, because compromising my own principles for anyone else? Not happening. You should feel special, because this is a serious breach of my categorical imperative,”

“And don’t get too used to it. I’m not in the habit of making exceptions to my ethical duty, but for you? Maybe, I’ll bend the rules. Once.”  you said, your voice light and teasing as your fingers roamed on the back of his neck.

 “Then I guess it's only fair that I return the favor,” he said, a teasing challenge lighting up his gaze. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw before he gently tilted your face up toward his. “How about I help you with that last box, my favorite Hegelian menace?” His voice was low and smooth, the nickname rolling off his tongue with just the right hint of mockery to make your cheeks flush.

You rolled your eyes, leaning closer until your noses were almost touching. “Actually, it was a reference to Kant,” you corrected with a grin, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. He chuckled, shaking his head with that familiar amused expression.

“Well then,” he said, his fingers sliding up to tangle in your hair, his touch gentle yet firm, “that’s even more reason for me to avoid calling you that, isn’t it?” His lips were inches from yours, teasing, and you couldn’t resist the playful challenge glimmering in his eyes.

“It’s a pity you didn’t get it right,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “If you had, I might have canceled on Rossi and told him we were too sick to make dinner. But since you didn’t…” You trailed off, your voice dropping to a whisper, savoring the way his hands tightened on your waist.

“Oh no,” Aaron teased, his forehead resting against yours, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours with a playful intensity that made your pulse quicken. “We can’t cancel on Rossi, especially since someone insisted on bringing him a bottle of wine. And we both know how he loves to open his gifts and share them with the entire table,” he added, his smile deepening as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “All because someone - who I happen to be married to - refuses to drink his own stash.”

“This secret never leaves this room, Love” you teased with a soft laugh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. You sealed your warning with a fleeting kiss, your lips brushing his in a way that promised more, but ended all too soon. His breath hitched, and you felt the subtle shift in his posture - he wanted more, and you knew it.

“Not just the wine,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet rasp that sent a thrill through you, his eyes dark and smoldering with unrestrained desire. His hand slid from your waist to your inner thigh, his fingers squeezing gently. His thumb moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, sending waves of warmth pooling through you. “Someone spent the whole drive home last time critiquing Rossi’s carbonara-like it was a crime against Italian culture,” he said, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck, the warmth of his breath making you shudder. “All because someone,” he continued, his voice thick and tinged with longing, “once lived in Italy and now thinks they’re an expert.”

“Only a fool would put parsley and onions in carbonara,” you said, shaking your head with exaggerated disbelief, a wicked smile dancing at the corners of your lips. “And Rossi thinks he’s Italian? Please.” Your tone dripped with playful disdain, and you shot him a teasing, pointed look, arching an eyebrow in a mock challenge that you knew would get under his skin.

“I thought marrying the boss would come with a few perks, you know,” you continued, your voice dropping to a low, flirtatious whisper as you reached down and grabbed his hand - the one that had been resting on your thigh. You intertwined your fingers with his, halting the distracting movement just before it could make you lose your focus. “Definitely didn’t expect to be met with all this criticism instead,” you added with a smirk, your eyes locking onto his as you leaned in closer, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“That’s why you married me?” he asked with a faux look of betrayal, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought it had something to do with that ridiculous bet we made…”

“Oh, speaking of which,” he added with a mischievous glint, “is now a good time to bring up your dreadful track record?” His grin widened, that playful confidence sparking in his eyes.

“You still haven’t told me what your secret is,” you replied, deflecting smoothly as you leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers now toying with the collar of his shirt.

He leaned down, his lips brushing softly against your ear, his voice a deep, intimate murmur. “I love you,” he whispered, his tone warm and sincere, each word sinking into your skin like a promise. He followed it with a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, moving with such deliberate gentleness that it sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless.

Before he could pull away, you moved swiftly, locking him between your thighs as you slid on top of him, your movements quick and confident. The surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by that familiar, irresistible smile - the one that deepened his dimples and made your heart race.

His hands instinctively settled on your waist as you straddled him, and now, face-to-face, you could drink in every detail of his expression, his eyes filled with affection and something more primal.

You rested your hands behind his neck, your fingers tangling gently in his hair as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his just enough to tease him. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with playful accusation, “but you’re deflecting.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, you closed the distance, your lips crashing onto his with a deep, urgent need that stole both of your breaths. The kiss was slow but intense, each movement of your mouth over his filled with a longing that had been building for far too long. His hands slid up your waist, fingers tightening with a possessive intensity as he pulled you closer.

The way his body responded to yours, the soft, eager press of his lips, felt like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. You moved together, perfectly in sync, and the world outside blurred until it was nothing but the heat radiating between you, the scent of his skin, and the steady, intoxicating rhythm of your breaths mingling.

Time seemed to blur, stretching out around you as the kiss deepened further, each second a heady mix of anticipation and surrender.

There was nothing else.

Just his hands, his lips, his breath mingling with yours in a rhythm that felt timeless, both of you giving in to the undeniable pull between you.

The Barbri legal handbook, abandoned and untouched, would stay in that box a little while longer.

In that moment you two had a much more important situation to handle.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

A special ragù kiss to @c-losur3 who came up with the idea of "Damn lawyers and their silver tongue". Genius. Extraordinary. Camp. Showstopping. Beautiful. Jessica Pearson. Looking forward to our next little brainrot 😼😼

[moccasins]

YES. EXACTLY

i've read the comic a million times, i basically have it memorized at this point. it's a problem. and he was kinda a jerk to life at the start too. he stumbled across her garden on accident and saw how much she disliked him and thought "you know what. i'll come here as often as i can" knowing full well how much she didn't want him to do that.

but as they started to get closer, he'd still mess up like that. she'd show him a beautiful bird and he'd tell her a story about crows eating a human alive and when she looks at him in horror is when he realizes "oh. that's probably not an appropriate story.."

he doesn't get social cues, he can't read a room, and the only stories he can tell are ones that are just disturbing. he's not a bad person, he's just never had the experience to learn what's ok and what's not. he was made and immediately thrown into his job, everyone hates him, and he hates them back. that's just asking for disaster.

and that's how he acts around gods. imagine how much of a disaster he'd be around mortals..

you know what. in afterdeath, nay, any ships involving reaper, any dynamics involving reaper, i need his status as a god to be realized more. and i don’t mean extreme shows of power (which btw i LOVE, especially if it’s nightmare getting his ass beat bc he lowkey deserves it), or the types of art where he’s the size of a tall building (which i also love)

i mean i need him to struggle with morals, with what mortals need to keep themselves alive and satisfied, struggling with figuring out what people normally do with friends or lovers, how to make them happy, forgetting to make them happy. i need him to break a social code that he just doesn’t understand because they don’t exactly have those kinds of unspoken rules in the heavens. i need him to do something that hurts someone he cares about by mistake, because he just isn’t used to what mortals need, how fragile they are (both physically and mentally) compared to him.

things just don’t apply to him and the other gods the same way they do to everyone else. and i want that shown more. i want him to struggle with social etiquette because the only people he really talks to also struggle with that because they are gods, not people. they don’t live in a society 😔

i need him to be blunt about loss, because he’s never felt it before (ASSUMING this takes place in either a version of reapertale where life doesn’t die, or he just never meets life). i need him to be inconsiderate and neglectful without realizing, because he doesn’t need to eat or drink or shower or sleep, he forgot mortals need to do that, and that mortals have emotional needs as well. he can’t just go to work for weeks on end and come back without warning, but he doesn’t get why for a while. time is meaningless to him, but painfully valuable to mortals.

he doesn’t see the day to day life of mortals (take a shot for every time i’ve said mortals jfc), only the end of it. he doesn’t grasp it. what i’m saying is make him a bit more like that one scene in steven universe. “can’t you just talk to me like a real person?!” “i’m… not a real person.”

i also need him to improve on this behavior after being informed, obviously not perfectly i mean in a realistic manner. i am not saying you should make him toxic. just clarifying. don’t make him an abusive prick or bad partner for no reason i just want his status as a god, confused about mortals (yet another shot) and their needs, to be used more bc it’s interesting

[misc-obeyme]

Dearest CC, I have fallen victim to the Mammon x Barb agenda and now I crave a Greed sandwich. Might I submit an ask for a bottom!reader who asks Barbatos to teach them how to dom with Mammon?(I'm picturing established poly relationship if that helps?)

Thank you, and no rush!

- 🥧 anon P.S.: This is all your fault.

Well hello there, 🥧 anon~

I must apologize for the length of time it took me to get to this, but I'm finally here with the Greed sandwich!

I have to say, I'm pleased to know that someone else has been enjoying macaron because I still have so many ideas for it hee hee! I take full responsibility for it~

Anyway, halfway through writing this I realized I've never actually written a threesome before, so I was kinda like what am I doing?? But hopefully it still turned out okay!

Barbatos x MC x Mammon

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: threesome, dom!Barb, sub!Mammon, collar, restraints, the tail's involved obviously, demon forms, praise, fingering and penetration (reader receiving), uh um I think that's it?

There was a tension in the air. It sizzled between the three of you like the desert on a summer's day. Oppressive, all encompassing, making you sweat. The stare that Barbatos was giving Mammon made your stomach flip. It was a mixture of exasperation, fondness, and mischief.

The table was set for tea, everything laid out perfectly as it always was. Plates of perfectly made pastries and steaming cups of a subtly flavored floral brew were spread out before you. There was even a lovely centerpiece in the middle of the table.

Barbatos had just set down his D.D.D.

Mammon looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

This was a fairly common occurrence, which meant that you knew exactly what was happening. Barbatos had just been informed about some scheme Mammon had pulled at RAD to make money and now Mammon was sweating bullets.

"I hear the cookies Luke made in home economics were being sold for exorbitant amounts of Grimm at RAD this morning," Barbatos said casually.

Mammon folded his arms. "I gave half of it to the Chihuahua!"

"Hmm." Barbatos tilted his head. "How benevolent of you. However, as you well know, it is against the rules to sell the baked goods from any home economics class."

Because you knew that rule only existed to prevent Mammon from gouging the students, you had to cover a laugh with a cough.

"All right, all right," Mammon said. "Whaddaya want me to do? Give all the money back?"

"That would be a good place to begin," Barbatos said. "Be sure to pay for the amount you gave to Luke from your own pocket."

Mammon groaned. "Man, why do ya gotta be such a stickler, huh?"

"It is simply because you never learn your lesson," Barbatos said. He smiled and it was slightly ominous. The tension ramped up a bit. "What do you think, MC? Is there perhaps something different we could do to enable Mammon to change his ways?"

You had been waiting for this cue. You grinned. "Oh, I can think of something."

Barbatos met your eyes and the normally peaceful teal was lit with the flame of a desire that made your stomach flutter. "What do you suggest?"

You blushed, almost having to look away, but you managed to hold his gaze. "Actually, do you think you could teach me?"

You couldn't bring yourself to say exactly what you meant, but you knew you didn't need to. Barbatos understood you without further context.

"H-hang on, MC," Mammon protested.

"Certainly," Barbatos said, as though Mammon hadn't said anything. "It would be my pleasure."

And that was how you had ended up in Barbatos's room with Mammon in front of you and Barbatos behind you, your heart racing and your stomach tumbling.

Mammon was on his knees, a black leather collar around his neck, a silky black ribbon tying his wrists behind his back, and nothing else. He was looking up at you with desperate eyes, his mouth open, his body straining. He was panting a little and occasional soft whimpers escaped him.

Barbatos was standing behind you, a hand on your waist, his lips by your ear. He was fully clothed, as were you, but his presence so close to you was distracting. You tried to listen to the instructions he whispered in your ear, to focus on what he was telling you rather than how he was making you shiver.

You ran your fingertips down Mammon’s cheek, letting them trace the edges of his lips and the line of his jaw. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed, shaking with need. You pulled your hand away to tuck your fingers into the collar, yanking it forward suddenly and tipping him off balance. He didn't fall, instead sucking in a breath as his knees shifted on the stone floor.

There was a slight shift behind you and suddenly you felt Barbatos's tail wrapping around one of your thighs. You had been following his directions, of course, but seeing you do it seemed to make him lose control of himself just a little.

You lifted your other hand and pressed your fingers against Mammon's lips. He opened his mouth readily, letting you push them inside. He moaned around them, leaning forward.

Barbatos's hand twitched against your waist.

"You're doing so well, MC," he whispered in your ear.

You nearly fell to your knees with Mammon. But instead you pulled in a deep breath and tugged up on Mammon's collar, causing him to stand before you. You took your fingers out of his mouth, making him whine.

"Oh?" you asked softly. "Do you miss my fingers in your mouth?"

"Please, MC," Mammon whimpered.

You tugged him closer to you using the collar. "Isn't this supposed to be a punishment?" you asked. "I can't just let you have whatever you want so easily."

Barbatos actually chuckled in amusement behind you. His tail left your leg and ran its tips down Mammon's bare chest. He whined again.

"Don't ya think I've been through enough?" he asked hoarsely. You had indeed already been edging him for quite some time.

"I suppose you feel we've been teasing you for too long," Barbatos said. "But you see, MC. You mustn't give in too soon. No matter how much he begs, you are the one in control."

Mammon closed his eyes. His face was flushed and his erection was prominently leaking. "C'mon, MC," he said. "Ya want it, too, don't ya? You wanna give in."

"Hold your ground, MC," Barbatos said quietly in your ear.

You were feeling a little dizzy. With Mammon flushed and begging before you and Barbatos speaking slowly and steadily behind you, his slight movements giving away his own desire, you thought you were the one who couldn't last much longer.

Barbatos seemed to understand this, though. You weren't really suited to this role, after all. It was fun, for him to direct you like this. But in the end, he knew what you wanted.

While you held onto Mammon's collar, Barbatos began to undress you. For the brief moment you had to let go of the collar so he could remove your shirt, Barbatos held it himself with his tail. Mammon looked dazed as he watched, his hands twitching where they were tied behind him. His eyes kept flicking between you and Barbatos's tail.

Once you had been freed of all your clothing, you felt Barbatos's lips on your neck, gently leaving a soft trail of kisses along it and down your shoulder. You gasped, reaching out to pull Mammon even closer, feeling his body pressed against yours, your hands flat against his chest. Mammon moaned as your hands moved across him.

Barbatos's tail had moved from Mammon's collar to his cock, where it stroked him oh so slowly, pulling desperate whimpers from him. You reached around to untie his hands so he could steady himself. They went straight to your hips, holding on for dear life, his body leaning into you even more as he needed your support to keep standing.

While this was happening, Barbatos's hands were moving across your skin before his fingers entered your waiting hole. It was already spasming, but now it contracted around him.

You were finding it difficult to remain standing, too, but somehow you and Mammon managed to hold each other up. You couldn't see Barbatos, but you were sure he was completely composed as he always was.

You moaned deeply as he replaced his fingers with his cock. He must have removed just enough of his own clothing to do it. You felt Mammon's cock jump where it was pressed against you, his reaction to hearing your own pleasure. His mouth found your nipples and Barbatos continued to kiss along your neck and jaw.

You could feel Barbatos's tail still moving sluggishly between you and Mammon, likely still wrapped around the latter's cock. The way it moved so precisely caught your attention just before one of the tips began to stroke your already pulsing arousal. You cried out in response to this stimulation as Barbatos moved behind you, his cock picking up speed along with his tail, stroking both you and Mammon at the same time.

Mammon burst into demon form, as though the feelings were so intense he couldn't help himself. His wings wrapped around both you and Barbatos, his lips and tongue still focused on your nipples, though he was whining and panting around them.

Barbatos seemed to have everything under control, but you could still hear his ragged breathing in your ear, even the soft moans that escaped him.

Mammon came first, his cum exploding between your bodies and dripping down Barbatos's tail. His hands gripped your hips hard, nearly causing you to fall over, but somehow Barbatos kept you steady.

You were next as Barbatos's tail sped up significantly and his cock hit deep inside you over and over. The orgasm washed over you, your fingernails scratching down Mammon's back above and then between his wings.

And then you felt the warmth of Barbatos's cum inside you as he came last, his tail finally slowly down.

The three of you stood there for a long moment, covered in each other's cum and gasping for air.

Mammon moaned and leaned his head on your shoulder to look behind you at Barbatos.

"You're ruthless, ya know that?" he said, his voice low with the edges of sleepiness to it.

You heard the smirk in Barbatos's voice. "I fear this is only the beginning," he said.

Mammon shuddered against you. "Ya think I can't take more?"

You snorted. "Don't try to bluster like that, you'll only get yourself into more trouble."

"Aww, c'mon, MC," Mammon said, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into him. He seemed to have gained some of his strength back. "Don't ya know I can handle anythin' this guy dishes out?"

"Anything, you say?" Barbatos asked from behind you, his own arms wrapped around your stomach above Mammon's.

"Mammon," you said, a warning in your tone. You knew he was pushing it.

"I ain't ever backin' down," Mammon said.

"It seems you have yet to learn the lesson we were trying to teach you," Barbatos said with mock disappointment in his voice.

You giggled. "I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to trying again. You still have so much to teach me, Barbatos."

You caught Mammon's eyes, which were glittering with anticipation. Barbatos moved so he was standing beside you, one arm around your back and the other now around Mammon. His own expression was surprisingly open, full of a flirtatious desire that made your heart flip.

"Shall I continue the lesson, then?" he asked.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[brainddeadd]

Anyone But You

The last person you ever wanted to see again was Nico Hischier. Yet here he is, standing across the crowded wedding venue, looking better than any man has the right to in a tailored black suit. His dark eyes lock with yours from across the room, and that familiar smug grin spreads across his face.

Of course, it had to be him.

This whole destination wedding in St. Barts was supposed to be a fun escape—a chance to celebrate your best friend’s marriage and sip cocktails on the beach, not get trapped on an island with your former best friend turned bitter ex-flame. Fate, or maybe some cruel cosmic joke, decided otherwise.

It’s been two years since things exploded between you and Nico. Two years since you let feelings fester into something complicated and combustible. You walked away, he didn’t stop you, and neither of you looked back—until now.

At the reception’s cocktail hour, you try to melt into the crowd, but it’s impossible to ignore Nico’s presence. He’s everywhere—standing with the groomsmen, charming the bride’s family, and laughing in that way that used to drive you wild. You almost make it to the bar when a familiar voice stops you cold.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice smooth as ever.

You turn slowly, forcing a polite smile. “Nico.”

He leans casually against the bar, the same cocky tilt to his mouth you remember too well. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You mean at my best friend’s wedding?”

Nico chuckles, and it’s infuriating how good he looks doing it. “Right. How could I forget?”

“Must be all the concussions,” you say sweetly, the corners of your lips twitching.

He lets out a low laugh, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “Still as sharp as ever.”

“Still as annoying as ever,” you shoot back, grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.

But as you walk away, you can feel his gaze following you, as if the past two years never happened and the pull between you never really went away.

Over the next few days, avoiding Nico proves impossible. The wedding itinerary is packed with group activities that throw the two of you together at every turn—beach volleyball games, rehearsal dinners, sunset cruises. It’s like the universe is forcing you to confront whatever unresolved tension lingers between you.

And the tension? Oh, it’s thick.

“Still can’t serve to save your life,” Nico teases during a volleyball match, his grin too charming for his own good.

You scowl, brushing sand from your legs. “Still can’t shut up, I see.”

He laughs, low and familiar, and for a moment, you forget why you hated him in the first place.

But then the memories rush back—how everything fell apart between you, the things you left unsaid, the way he never fought for you when you walked away. And just like that, the irritation returns in full force.

The tension between you and Nico finally reaches its breaking point when a tropical storm traps everyone indoors. Somehow, you end up stuck in a tiny beachside cabana with him while the rain pours down in sheets outside.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, pacing the small space. “Of all people to get stuck with…”

Nico lounges on the couch, unbothered, watching you with that infuriatingly calm expression. “You act like being stuck with me is the worst thing in the world.”

“It is,” you snap.

He smirks, clearly enjoying your frustration. “You didn’t seem to mind me so much before.”

You whirl on him, heart pounding. “That was a long time ago, Nico.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now.

The air between you shifts, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you both. The storm outside feels like a reflection of everything churning inside you—anger, regret, and that damnable attraction that never quite went away.

Before you can think better of it, the words tumble out. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Nico sits up, his expression serious now. “You walked away, Y/N. What was I supposed to do? Chase after someone who didn’t want me?”

“I did want you,” you whisper, the truth spilling out before you can stop it.

He’s on his feet in an instant, closing the distance between you. “Then why did you leave?”

Your breath catches as his gaze drops to your lips. “Because I was scared. Scared that what we had was too real. Scared that you’d break my heart.”

Nico’s hand cups your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You broke mine first.”

And then, suddenly, he’s kissing you.

It’s not gentle—it’s messy and desperate, years of frustration and longing pouring into the kiss. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. It’s a kiss that feels like an apology, a confession, and a second chance all wrapped into one.

The storm passes, but nothing between you and Nico feels the same. What started as playful banter and unresolved tension has shifted into something deeper, something neither of you are ready to admit aloud.

Over the next few days, things get complicated. You catch yourself watching him when he isn’t looking, noticing the way his smile softens when he talks to you. And worse, you start wanting more—more time, more moments, more of him.

One night, beneath the glow of fairy lights at the reception, Nico pulls you into a slow dance. His hand rests on the small of your back, warm and steady, as you sway to the music.

“This feels dangerous,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nico smiles, his forehead resting against yours. “What’s life without a little danger?”

You laugh softly, leaning into him, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

The wedding weekend comes to an end, but you and Nico aren’t ready to say goodbye—not yet.

As you stand together on the beach, watching the waves roll in, he takes your hand. “So… what now?”

You smile, squeezing his fingers. “Now, we stop pretending we don’t care about each other.”

Nico grins, that familiar mischievous spark in his eyes. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you walk away again.”

And this time, you don’t plan to.

[lint-beetle4]

Stamen And Pistil (Nezha X Reader! Smut)

We are officially at one more request to finish, and the last one's going to end the request hiatus with a bang, chat

Enjoy Nezha! I had some fun with this one!

Smut below

“My blossom, can I ask you a question?”

Your partner was a wonderful man, you swore to heaven and back. He was stern yet caring, bold yet apprehensive, but most importantly, he was static yet curious all the same.

“What is pegging?”

Your head snapped to Nezha in that moment, an expression akin to someone watching a live car crash combust into flames so clear on your face that your partner took a step back, a light blush on his face with widened eyes and parted lips.

“Is it…bad?”

You loved Nezha, but he was tempting you with something far more than love. He was being experimental–the celestial being Nezha, Third Lotus Prince and Marshal of the Central Altar, looked at you with wonder and slight fear. You took a deep breath and looked straight into Nezha’s eyes, gaining another curious semi-flinch from your usually unshakable partner.

“Where did you hear about pegging?”

Online, Nezha had responded, and soon the both of you were embarking on an internet journey together. Your own shock had shifted into the same curiosity that filled Nezha, and Nezha seemed quite into the idea with each blog post and search term you two had stumbled upon. Ending the self-imposed rabbit hole, you turned to Nezha whose cheeks had yet to be any less redder.

“So…”

Nezha swallowed, “So…”

“You wanna try it?”

You didn’t own any dildos. The sex life between you and Nezha wasn’t new, but it wasn’t common either. Nezha rarely had time nor energy to give you with his celestial duties, but his father was gracious enough to allow Nezha a break–more so, he forced Nezha to leave his post for the week.

So, with a newfound purpose and much persuasion to Nezha, you two stood in a sex toy shop, browsing through various toys and ropes that you had no intent on buying until later.

You did however spot of nice pair of lingerie that would fit perfectly on Nezha's lithe body.

"You want me to wear this?" Nezha whispered to you, his eyes staring at the piece, almost examining it. "I don't think I can wear this anywhere."

"It's not to wear out, doofus." You teased, "It's so you can look pretty for me."

Nezha was a simple man after all.

In the privacy of your apartment, you waited patiently for Nezha who was changing in the bathroom. A giddy feeling of excitement rose in you, bubbling into your heart as Nezha walked out of the door, clad in casual attire ready to be torn off of him.

You grinned hungrily at Nezha, the man silent as you sat him by your shared bed.

"You sure you want to do this now?"

Nezha nodded eagerly, fire in his eyes as he spoke confidently. "I suggested this, and I'm fully ready to try it out...Just--be gentle?"

"When am I ever not?" You licked your lips, pressing them against Nezha's before he could again. Nezha yelped inside of your mouth, warming up to the way you eagerly took dominance, your tongue teasing the corners of his mouth while he melted into you.

You pulled away quickly, tasting the strawberry chapstick that he took a liking to some time ago.

Nezha's eye were blown, dilated as he merely stared at you in surprise.

"You're...excited today."

You chuckled, tugging at the collar of the shirt Nezha wore. "You're just irresistible."

Nezha smiled softly, pressing against you for another kiss. You grabbed the back of Nezha hair, tugging it slightly and reveling in the sultry moan that escaped him. Your hands tangled in the mess of Nezha's hair, undoing his signature buns to stroke the stiff locks of hair that fell from their ribbon-ed prison.

You pulled away, catching your breath quickly as you latched onto Nezha's neck, pressed kisses and nips along his pulse line. Nezha shivered before you, removing his shirt as his body further relaxed into your touch. You slid lower, trailing kisses and discrete bites that only you two would be able to see.

"You can't--" Nezha stifled a moan. "They can't be visible, my love."

You grinned, placing a harsh mark onto his shoulder as Nezha yelped, a shuddering breath escaping him.

"No one will see a thing," You reassured your flushed partner, licking along the bruising wound as your hands explored Nezha's chest, fondling and lightly pinching at his nipples. Nezha whimpered another time, a hand covering his mouth as you traced your tongue around one of his nipples, suckling it tenderly with light bites.

Nezha moaned into his hand, hips bucking into nothing as you practical held him in your hands, now giving due to attention to the nipple, warm tongue sliding across the hard surface. You could hear the way Nezha's heartbeat thudded against his chest, how his moans rumbled so wonderfully in your ears. You pulled away from the nipple with a slight 'pop,' and you grabbed Nezha's face who panted roughly.

"Don't hide your voice," You commanded the lotus prince who seemed lost in your eyes. "You can't cover your mouth. I want to hear each noise you make."

Nezha nodded, hiding his flushed face into the crook of your shoulder as he whimpered from the lack of stimulation. You chuckled, quickly removing your clothes before your hands trailed lower down Nezha's body, feeling his rigid yet soft muscles and the way his bones felt against your fingers.

You lowered yourself, hands tugging at the line of Nezha's pants in a silent question. Nezha nodded silently, his breath still heavy. You slowly removed Nezha's pants, seeing the bulge that lines the boxers he wore. With a teasing smirk, you pressed your palm against the bulge, Nezha yelping at the touch as his hips bucked into your palm.

"Haa," Nezha whimpered, desperately looking at you with those glorious eyes that spoke nothing but submission. "Stop--Stop teasing me. Get on with it."

You raised an eyebrow, pushing your palm harder against Nezha's clothed dick.

"You want me to get on with what?"

Nezha growled weakly, his hands gripping at the bed sheets, threatening to tear them. "You know what I want--just, please."

"Please, what?" You smirked, hand slipping through his boxers and ghosting the edge of Nezha's cock. "You're gonna have to speak up, Nezhie. I don't understand you."

"Are you really going to make me do this?"

You chuckled, "Do what? I'm only checking to make sure we're on the right boat."

"Either touch me or fuck me, stop teasing me already!" Nezha yelled out, hissing at your hand stroked his cock quickly.

"You should've just said so," You hummed satisfied, releasing Nezha to remove his boxers. "Now, I know what you want."

You motioned Nezha to slide back, crawling between his legs as his back his the bed post. Your hand trailed against Nezha's dick, gripping it lightly as you kissed along a vein, smirking at the way Nezha shivered. Your tongue slid along Nezha's cock, your mouth enveloping Nezha.

Nezha moaned against you, his hand gently laying on top of your head as you bottomed out, teasing Nezha with a hum that had him whimpering and almost bucking into your throat. You moved along, slurping and sucking Nezha's cock as if you had been starved for days. Nezha panted loudly, moans easily sliding out of him while you continued to service your partner. You felt Nezha's cock twitch inside of your throat before his hand suddenly gripped your hair, pushing you lower.

"--Sorry," Nezha whimpered, "I--I'm about to..."

You chuckled breathily, pulling away from Nezha, cooing as he keened loudly, hips bucking for release.

"Calm down, you big baby." You chided softy, pressing a kiss to Nezha's cheek before walking out. "Stay there, and don't touch yourself. I'll be quick."

And quick you were, while Nezha was patient, you weren't, and you walked back in the room, clad with your dildo as Nezha looked at you pathetically. You pulled out a bottle of lube from a drawer, sticking your hand into Nezha's mouth before he could ask any questions.

"Suck."

Nezha did so obediently, drool dripping from his mouth as his tongue pressed against your fingers. You hummed, chuckling slightly as Nezha jolted from the cool lube sliding down his legs.

You whispered to Nezha, pulling your soaked fingers out of his mouth. "Are you ready? I need you to turn over for me, on all-fours."

Nezha nodded, weakly shifting around and raising his ass. You smiled supportively, pressing a kiss onto Nezha's back. Slowly, you slid a lubed finger into Nezha, whispering praises to him.

"Look at you, taking me so well."

You inserted another finger, scissoring Nezha's hole as he mewed softly at the new sensation.

"Let me hear you. You sound so pretty."

Your fingers explored around Nezha, pressing and prodding at certain area before Nezha choked on a moan, his hands clutching the blankets in his surprise.

You smiled, entering a third finger to continue the slowly growing assault on the nerves that had Nezha's legs shaking. Nezha panted, his voice echoing through the room while you entered a fourth finger into him. Nezha swallowed, his moans never ceasing as he stuttered with bucking hips.

"I'm about to--ghh--fuck!"

Nezha whimpered, his entire body jolting as ropes of cum escaped him, staining the bed sheets.

"There you go," you whispered lowly to Nezha, kissing his shoulder as he rode out the orgasm. You slowly pulled your fingers out, Nezha gasping quietly at the emptiness in him.

You rubbed Nezha's back as he panted, his eyes tightly shut as his body slowly caught up.

"You alright?" You asked, your hand never leaving where it laid. "You wanna stop here?"

Nezha shook his head with a whine, "Keep going, I had a task to accomplish."

"Do you want to rest first?" You asked, almost taken aback by Nezha's resolve.

"No," Nezha sat up, stretching his sore muscles before turning to you. "I want you to keep going, I'm not satisfied yet.

You nodded, a wide grin as you poured lube onto the dildo that you wore. You rubbed the toy carefully, watching as Nezha laid on his back, legs spread for you while showing the half-hard cock that slowly rose higher.

You pressed your lips to Nezha's, his tongue wrapping around yours hungrily while you pushed against Nezha entrance, a hand rubbing his hips soothingly as you slowly entered inside of him.

Nezha pulled away from you with a low moan as he slowly got filled up, his breath heavy as you bottomed out inside of him.

"You doing alright?"

Nezha's chest heaved, his eyes tightly shut while you stroked his jaw.

"Breathe, love. How are you?"

Nezha swallowed, his voice deep and heavy. "Full."

You chuckled, watching as Nezha slowly adjusted to you. He looked...ethereal, to say the least.

Nezha's body suited the pale, pink lingerie around him, the way it clung to his hips and chest while your partner laid silently. His body was gorgeous, the way his arms laid on the bed, lightly gripping the blankets below the two of you. It was a sight for sore eyes, and the way Nezha stared back at you brought you out of your thoughts.

"...What is it?" Nezha stammered.

You shook your head, eyes softening as you pressed a kiss to Nezha's cheek. "Nothing, beautiful. Are you alright?"

Nezha nodded, his hips rolling against your dildo. "Move."

You thrusted slowly into Nezha, almost feeling the way he gripped around you.

"Mn--" Nezha covered his mouth as you quickened your pace. "-Gods."

"Nezha--" You panted, nearly growling at your partner. Your hands grabbed the one covering Nezha's mouth, lifting it above his head before trapping the other hand as well. "Let me hear you."

You laid a particularly hard thrust into Nezha whose hips bucked in response as he whimpered and writhed below you.

"I want to hear your voice."

Nezha's moans were melodic, uncontrolled yet musical in your ears. As you continued to thrust into the lotus prince, Nezha only got louder, senseless noises and dumb mumbles filling the room. You felt the dildo grind against you, sending jolts of pleasure through you as Nezha's back arched when you found his prostate. His voice grew higher and higher, a bitch in heat.

You slammed into that spot, groaning as Nezha continued to sing through the abuse you were giving him.

Nezha clenched around you, nearly sucking your dildo in, and as you felt yourself getting stimulated further and further, you blindly bit onto Nezha's neck, a dark mark surely to appear there as Nezha's chest rubbed against yours.

"Fuck--My--Hahh!" Nezha stammered, hips grinding in unison with your thrusts. "I'm--I'm gonna--"

You growled into Nezha's neck, a low rumble that only commanded Nezha further. You lifted a hand, stroking Nezha who writhed beneath you with a loud keen. You released Nezha's neck, lowly whispering to him.

"Cum for me. Scream my name for everyone to hear."

Nezha, like a good bitch, submitted, releasing into your hand while yelling out your name as he thrusted hopelessly into your palm. You slowly slid out of Nezha as he went limp. His breaths were airy yet still carried remnants of his voice. You panted, arms shaking as you laid by Nezha.

You hadn't cum yet, but frankly, the sight of seeing Nezha's worn down body, how he seemed truly relaxed and blissful, you didn't need anything else.

"How was it?" You asked, feeling your own wetness stick to the dildo.

Nezha turned to you, pupils blown out and mouth parted open in the clearest display of post-nut clarity you've seen. "Amazing."

After a pause, Nezha had dragged you closer to him, sitting on top of you with a renewed hunger.

"Nezha?" You chuckled, almost nervously. "We don't have to continue if you--"

"I didn't say I was finished yet." Nezha interrupted, nibbling along your neck while his hands fondled your chest tenderly. "You still need to be rewarded for doing such a good job."

[piss-pumpkin]

Sober confessions (are a little better) - Leo valdez x reader

Part 2 of drunken confessions (kind of suck), ~3.3k words, gn reader Masterlist

Leo was in shock. It took every ounce of willpower not to burst into flames as you froze for a moment, caught off guard. “I what?” You asked, dumbstruck. What really got to him though was your face. He knew you well enough to see the subtle blush, and the suppressed smile. 

But good or bad, that was the question. Leo laughed along, doing his best to play cool while his mind raced. “Yeah,” he giggled, averting his eyes casually by looking at the phone. “You had me blushing and everything,” he joked. Okay, that was a safe answer. Not saying he rejected you, or that he wanted to accept. Neutral mostly, if a little flirty. Leo’s eyes were trained on the phone screen, wide and wild as he fought a nervous smile and tried to mask it with a flirty one. 

“I did?” You asked, baffled. In his peripheral he could see you do the same as him, stare at your food. Okay, now he could look at you, if you weren’t looking at him. For just a moment he wondered if it was his brain that was on fire, with logic like that. He quickly shook it off. 

He got one glance in before he folded, eyes immediately darting back to the phone, which he just now realized was off, and had been for at least a minute. Shit. He turned in on, and opened a random app. In just a look he saw your wide eyes, flushed face and your hand covering your mouth, but by your eyes he could tell your pained smile. Double shit. Was drunk you onto something? Leo stared at a dumb mobile game and somehow managed to form words, “yeah,” he laughed. “You were pretty smooth.”

You cringed, and Leo decided he might be the worst guy around at reading signals, and actually you might just be embarrassed about confessing to a guy like him. You hummed awkwardly, “Oh, that’s… something.”

Something? Leo winced, waiting for you to say more. But more never came, and an awkward silence filled the air, which was somehow worse than a more awkward conversation. 

You finally spoke, “Like, for real? For actually? I actually did that?”

Leo purse his lips, pausing a moment. To tell you, or not to tell you? He could probably still lie, or make a joke of it. But he promised not too. “What, you can’t believe it? It’s true, you a little smooth when you’re drunk,” he smiled cautiously. 

You looked over at him curiously, and the blush across your face confused him just a little bit. “Wha-what did you say?” You asked, puzzled. 

Well shit. “Uh,” he started, looking for the easiest answer. Or best answer. How to say no, but I wanted to say yes. But I can’t say yes. And you don’t want me to, not really. And I don’t want to say yes, actually, because it sucks you only like me when you’re fucked up. “No?” He said. “I-I said no, I guess.”

”Oh,” you said simply, looking back at your food.

And suddenly Leo felt very small. In a bad way, he decided. Sometimes small could be good, people like small things, some people think they’re cute. But Leo felt small like a grain of sand or dirt that gets stuck in your shoe, a constant bother but hard to shake. He wasn’t sure why he needed to defend himself on this, “Well, it’s not like I could say yes,” he laughed. “Besides, it’s not like you meant it.”

You nodded, “Right.” And he couldn’t read your expression, a language he was usually fluent in. 

Panic. “Right?” He asked, trying to play it off, brow raised like he as teasing.

You looked over at him and smiled softly, nodding again, more confidently this time. “Right,” you affirmed, and stood up, plate in hand. “I think you tell me one more thing I did last night I’ll combust, so I’m gonna go catch up on whatever my chores are, alright?” You laughed warmly. “See ya later?”

Leo swallowed, nodded, “Yeah, later.”

And then you were off, first to burn what was left for the gods, and then out of the dining pavilion. And Leo was alone, and hoped nobody was around to hear that borderline painful conversation. He was certain he’d never struck out worse, in all the times he flirted around camp. And he didn’t even have to try this time. What an achievement. 

                                              …

This were bad. Your legs were shaking in your compelling mortified state as you walked out. And as soon as you turned a corner out of sight of the pavilion, you broke into a speed walk, then jog, then sprint back to your cabin. Oh my gods. You only got a few weird looks as you ran, and your head only hurt a little bit as it bobbed up and down with the steps. That was good, at least. 

You shut the door behind you, and ran your fingers through your hair. Okay. Time to take stock of your dead, you supposed. You made a fool of yourself asking out Leo, and got rejected. Rejected? You dramatically collapsed on your bed. Rejected. By Leo. 

What to do? Apologize? Act like it never happened? Something dramatic? Avoid him? Forever? You stared out the window at the trees a moment. You probably embarrassed him, too. Ugh. You dragged your hands across your face, pulling the skin. You half wanted to peel it off. Yikes. 

Leo was far from the only person at camp you thought you’d have a shot with, but he was definitely the only one you could want. And you just had to go ruin that. 

You spent a fair amount of time lamenting in your cabin, then a good stretch doing chores like you said. And did your best to keep busy as long as you could, and keep your head empty, without a thought of what had happened. At least nobody else knew. Whenever people from last night felt like talking to you, they brought up the other shenanigans, and you could have fun remembering, or hearing about your exploits. Distractions. 

But the sun was setting, and you were getting restless. Ignoring problems only worked for so long, and sometimes letting them fester was worse. Damage control. You should nip this in the bud. If you payed the right cards, maybe you could recover. 

You were just finishing cleaning up the arts and crafts station, when you nodded to yourself. Yeah. Good plans. Maybe you could save yourself. Half the work was done for you, he already believed it was just the alcohol.  

You started to the bunker, not bothering to check his cabin. He was probably working alone, at this time of day. The sun was going down, and the sky was turning a purple haze. You half hoped you were wrong, and Leo was somewhere around seeing the pretty colours. 

You knew the code, one of few with the privilege of walking in without knocking. And of course, you were right, and hopes wrong. There he was. 

“Hey,” you said softly, coming up beside him. He looked up at you with his wide brown eyes, and you cringed a little, hoping you didn’t ruin your friendship with him. You could live with losing your chances with him, but your whole relationship? No shot. “Uh, I just wanted to say… sorry about last night?” You said, offering an only slightly awkward smile. “Must have been really awkward for you.”

Leo smiled as he looked up at you, cringing with his eyes. “Yeah, little bit,” he laughed, then waved his hand, dropping the metal he was tinkering with. “But it’s fine, Y/n, no need to apologize.”

Well that’s good. You sighed in relief. At least things were good. He seemed at ease. Maybe recovery could be easy. With a smile, you hopped up onto the desk beside him to sit, like usual. At least things weren’t weird. You groaned, resting the back of your head against the wall behind you. “At least I don’t remember, because I’d probably be even more mortified that way.”

Leo snickered rolling his eyes, “If you only knew.”

You raised your brow, “Dude,” you said, laughing. “Are you holding out on me? Did I do something even worse than…” you paused, not wanting to bring it up, like that would make it stuck in his head more. “Embarrassing myself completely?”

He paused, and you knew him well enough to know that was his thinking face. You braced yourself, preparing for the worst, for you to have done the most embarrassing thing you could imagine, whatever that was. You probably shouldn’t have even asked, now that you think about it. Ignorance is bli-

But he interrupted your train of thought, “Well, you always, do that,” Leo laughed, smiling softly at his hands. He quickly looked back up to you and laughed, “try to ask me out, that is.”

What. You stared at him. The fuck. “I do not,” you asserted, shaking your head. Because that would be absurd. 

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah,”  he said, like it was obvious. “Ya do.”

But if that were true, then he’d have rejected you… how many times? And just never felt like mentioning it. No chance, if that was true, you’re probably just die. Right there on the table. “Yeah, no I don’t,” you said again, somehow more confidently. “Now you’re fucking with me.”

As much as you wanted to maintain what little dignity you had, Leo didn’t look like he was fucking with you. He was smiling, but softly, tiredly even. His mischievous grin that came out when he joked. He looked too serious for this, even if he did laugh, “Yeah, no.” He shook his head, “I’m for realsies.”

But you already knew that. Even if you denied it. If you confessed once and didn’t remember, why not twice? Three times? More? Ugh. You cringed, shrinking into yourself. “That… doesn’t sound fun,” you said, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. But you couldn’t resist glancing down at him, as hard as you tried. “For either of us.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, staring at the floor with an awkward smile. “It’s kind of awkward, having to reject you, pretty much every time you drink,” he admitted. “I kind of hate it.”

You swallowed, completely understanding why he looked at the floor. But he seemed to have a stronger will than you, his eyes didn’t waver like yours did. Sighing, you resolved to do better, looking at the ceiling, and this time not looking back. “You hate the idea of me liking you?” You asked, wincing. It came out far weaker than you’d have liked. 

He cracked a smile, leaning his head back on his chair, now staring at the ceiling. “Not the idea, just the practice,” he said, brow furrowed. “I mean, what am I even supposed to say when you do that?”

Yes? You thought. But didn’t say it. He’d already rejected you once today, it seemed. No need to make it twice. “You could have told me, you know,” you said, pulling your feet up where you sat, so your head could rest on your knees. “If you hate it so much. Maybe if you told me, I might stop.”

Leo paused, lips pursed, and then picked up his scrap metal again, and a few wires and bolts. He started to fidget as he spoke, “Well, I thought it would make things weird.”

You snickered, “I guess you weren’t wrong.”

You heard Leo let out a small laugh through his nose, “Yeah, guess so.”

Leo’s workshop bunker was never truly silent. Even when there was nobody to speak, there was always the low rumble of a machine, occasionally the soft hum of the forge, often the sound of Leo tinkering. So you couldn’t really say it was an awkward silence, but it was damn close. 

Leo looked like there was more he wanted to say, brow furrowed and face scrunched as he wired a small contraption with calloused fingers. He sighed, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have even brought it up, you were just drunk.” He looked up at you, tired smile on his lips. “Believe it or not, it was your idea for me to tell you.”

You spared him a glance, doing your best to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you said, looking away again. Those eyes were too much. “I guess last night I was just full of bad ideas.”

”Yeah,” he snickered. “Bad ideas.”

You offered him a reluctant smile. “At least now we can forget about it, yeah?” 

Leo nodded, returning the same soft smile, “consider it forgotten.”

You smiled, less reluctant this time. For better or for worse, at least things could go back to normal. It was easier to look at him now, his eyes fallen onto the project in his hands as he leaned over his desk to grab parts. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, the silence feeling much more comfortable now. “If only I had this last night, all the shenanigans could have been documented,” you laughed. Your camera roll was empty.

Leo grinned up at you, “There’s always next time, right?”

“That means you’ve got to come next time, too,” you smiled, lightly kicking him. 

He shrugged, soft smile on his lips, “Well shit, how could I say no now?”

”You can’t,” you smirked. The empty camera roll needed fixing, that was certain. You turned slightly, opening the camera and holding the phone in front of you at a high angle. “Be my first picture?” You asked, looking down at him.

Wordlessly, he posed, dramatically winking and giving a thumbs up to the camera, and you snapped the shot. “Nice,” you said. It was a good first photo.

You turned to show him, but lost the will immediately. Leo was looking up at you rather intensely, lips pursed. He answered before you could ask, “Actually, Y/n, I know we just said to forget about… that whole thing,” he said, pushing his chair back and resting his feet in the table next to you. “But… I sorta promised you last night that I’d talk about it.”

Oh. You swallowed. Okay. Maybe you weren’t in the clear yet. 

                                            …

Leo was really doing it. He sighed, palms sweaty as metal pieces and wires idly bounced between them as he tried to calm his nerves. “Y/n, I don’t want to forget the things you say when you’re drunk, because they’re so…” he winced, tying to find the words that wouldn’t make him sound as pathetic as this felt. “…so nice, I guess.”

For a good moment, Leo was certain that came off horribly. But you didn’t seem to think so, looking at him with wide eyes, mouth hung slightly open. Maybe surprised. 

Leo pursed his lips. You were waiting for him to say more, and who was he if he didn’t fold when you looked at him like that? “I guess I just wish you liked me when you’re sober,” he said finally, shaking his head, eyes lowering. Yeah. That was it. Straight to the point.

“Leo, I-“ you started, reaching a hand out to him. He held his breath as you hesitated, and released when you put your hand down at the edge of the table in front of him. “Leo, I like you when I’m sober.”

Leo smiled, laughing through his nose. He scooted his chair closer again, resting an elbow beside your hand so he could hold up his head as he looked up at you. “Yeah, I know,” he chuckled. “But not like that.”

You pursed your lips, deathly still, but your eyes moved to the floor. 

Leo stopped you before you could respond, free hand up in the air like surrender. “Hey, and I’m not asking you too,” he said, doing his best to maintain his causal smile. He laughed, “I just… hey, we’re both full of dumb ideas. I guess I just wanted to tell you.” That might have been a lie. Telling you was the last thing he wanted. But here he was. 

You stared for a moment, and Leo could feel his heart beating in his throat. Then you laughed, covering your mouth, and he gulped, preparing for the worst. “Leo,” you said, hand barely covering a smile. “Leo, oh my gods.”

Leo paused, scrunching his brow. Huh? This could go very bad. Or maybe good? You didn’t seem mad, at least. 

Smiling at the floor, you scooted closer, until you were sitting just in front of him, smirking down. He must have looked like an idiot, staring up at you with wide eyes and confused the way he was. But that wasn’t unusual for him. “Leo I think your only dumb idea was liking me,” you laughed, head resting in your hands. 

Now Leo was officially puzzled. He stared dumbly at you. Blinked once, twice, and then realized he should probably say something. The laughing was involuntary, and he was about fifty percent sure he liked what you were saying. “Ha,” he exclaimed. “Like that was my idea,” he said rolling his eyes, “that was all you.”

You giggled, and for a moment Leo thought he saw you blush for a moment. “Leo I might have another bad idea,” you said, leaning closer towards him. 

Okay, that might be a sign, Leo thought, perhaps even a signal. He also thought he might combust, or at least burst into flames if not explode right there. But when you smiled down at him, face maybe a foot from his, it all left his brain. Not a single thought at all. “What… is it?” he asked awkwardly, grinning like a dork. 

“I think,” you started, “that we should totally kiss, wouldn’t that be awesome?” you said, resting your forehead on his. 

Leo flinched as your heads touched, for a split second retracting to avoid burning you. He felt hot. Burning. But not on fire. Before you could pull back too and lose the moment, he bridged the gap, eyes pressed shut, didn’t burn up, and kissed you. Oh my Gods. He was half shocked when you didn’t pull away, and had a heart attack when you kissed back, wide smile on your lips.

You giggled when you pulled back, “Hey, we should do that more often.”

Leo was grinning like an idiot, looking up at you. Wow you were pretty. And he wasn’t entirely sure this was real, he could swear he’s had this exact daydream once. But never so vivid. He shook his head, laughing. “Y/n, you’re the worst,” he giggled, letting his head fall into his hands.

”You don’t mean that,” you laughed, playfully hitting him on the shoulder. 

He couldn’t help but smile more into his hands, “no, I don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “How could I, after that?”

He heard you let it a small nose laugh, and felt your hand on his. Without a seconds hesitation he let you move his hands away, and replace them with your own as you guided his head up to look at you again. He leaned gently on your hand as you spoke, “Leo, I’m sorry I made you think I- I only liked you when I’m drunk,” you said, eyes not leaving his face. “Because thats not true.”

Leo, for a moment scared you might pull your hands back, covered them in his own. And he thought your hands were the only place he could ever want to rest his head. “Well, you did a great job proving me wrong,” he snickered. 

You smiled, “that’s my favourite thing to do, actually.”

”Wanna do it again?” He grinned. 

Anyway. Teehee I was kicking my feet a little writing this one ngl.

Taglist: I’m just gonna tag everyone who asked for this in the first post lmao lmk if you want tag removed @annybah @nottherealslimshady @bellamysnatblida

[bellysoupset]

idk if you remember but i sent in an irl story last time……. and i have another🫣

soooo the last story was about my friend (who i lowkey had a crush on at the time) being drunk and kinda pukey. this time is also about him, and a key difference is that i highkey have major feelings for him

we’d gone to a movie with a bunch of our friends and he got popcorn. fast forward and we’re leaving the theater—he’s a little slow to put his sweatshirt on, and when we all stop for obligatory bathroom trips he’s the last one out. as we’re walking through the parking lot, he kinda casually goes, “i think i ate too much popcorn” and i was immediately on high alert. but he seemed okay, so we all drove home and the drive was fine.

so he and i decide to hang out in my apt, one-on-one. we’re not inside yet, and as i’m putting the key in the door, he literally lifts up his shirt and looks down at his stomach and says, “goddd, my stomach…” nfksjWNFIWJRNF BRO WHATTTT YOU CANT JUST DO THAT AND EXPRCT ME TO NE NORMAL ABOIT IT HSHFJSJENFKGOAPX

and like YES i lowkey looked over and i saw his happy trail and his belly, which is always kinda soft, and it looked a little bloated. and for the rest of the evening he kept a hand on his tummy🫣🫣

i’m freaking out dude like what universe are we in that this could possibly happen

CHRIST???

SHAMELESS MAN??

Frankie what the FUCK i'd have combusted in flames. Happy trail to boot?? You were in heaven

This ask gave me 10 white hairs

[alexa-fika]

I come bearing gifts

Second pic translate:

Marco: --and finally use flame of regeneration to the affected area, and your done

Chopper: I CANT TAKE THAT ADVICE!!

IS IT CHRISTMAS ALREADY MY OH MY

THANKK YOU HOLO

I LOVE THAT, look at him, hes just so shdbbsvd

Honestly I can picture Marco just casually forgetting that not everyone can just cause combustion and end up with a healed patient

-

“Chopper how has that crewmate of yours been doing? I know you mentioned you were worried about his treatment-yoi” Marco casually asked as the rest of the crews mingle amongst them

“Ah! Zoro is much better now! His injuries still need to be wrapped but he’s so stubborn and won’t keep them up” The reindeer exitedly answers his tone changing to an annoyed one by the end of his sentence as he rises his voice for the swordsman to hear

Chopper fusses as Zoro simply tsks and looks away as he continues to down the drink on his hand

“Wrapped? Are they not healed by now-yoi?” Marco questioned confused as he glanced at the greenette

“Healed? It’s been only a Week, not to mention they were significantly deep”

“How has his treatment gone-yoi?” He inquired confused as to the the delay on the healing

“I ‘ve prescribed him a lot of ointments and rest”

“Have you used flames yet?”

“THAT WOULD KILL HIM”

[durarara-brain-rot]

not to be a stupid yume on anonymous but... how do you think shizuo would react to someone calling him attractive?

Not stupid at all lmao!

I’m going to go into different complements cause I had the idea now lmao!

- first off he would either not believe them or he would not process it till way later unless it was very obvious.

- if someone called him handsome he’d probably just figure it was like a more casual and polite way to refer to him, he’d probably see this much like how I imagine his mom or grandmothers use the term for him and his brother. “Oh you two are so handsome.” Or “my you’re growing up so handsome.” (He doesn’t process it as anything serious cause his grandma normalized it so much.)

- If someone compliments his appearance other than his features he’d probably raise an eyebrow and look down at himself before saying a polite but curt “thanks.”

- If someone compliments his physical features he’d probably not process it for a while. Someone could be like “your eyes are pretty” and this man would let it go in one ear and out the other. If he did catch it he would be taken aback by it and just stare at them in disbelief.

- If someone compliments his strength he’d find it weird and he’d probably get a bad taste in his mouth. He doesn’t see himself as strong just someone who lacks control.

- If someone compliments his personality he’d stare at them before shaking his head and chuckling and saying something degrading about himself usually about his temper!

- This is all different if the compliment is coming from someone who he is close with!

- if a friend is saying it he’d laugh and brush it off if he processed it in time. If he didn’t he wouldn’t address it.

- if it was a very close friend he’d probably get quite and wouldn’t really know what to say.

- If it was someone he knew liked him but he didn’t know how he felt about them he’d 100% give a polite thank you (cause his parents and grandparents raised him right) but quickly change the subject

- if someone he liked complimented him he would just kinda internally combust into flames. I’m talking he’d go full red in the face all the way up into the tips of his ears as he tries to remain calm.

-if it’s someone he hates, murder

[marzipanandminutiae]

As someone writing a book set in 1858, I often worry about how my writing will come off. I speak quite affectedly but not enough that my normal way of talking is mid-Victorian enough.

I have no more worries. By virtue of using "How do you do" instead of "Hello" (extremely casually of course) I am already 700× better than that writer.

Also I'd heard of that book and was on the fence, the dresses on the cover being... well an attempt was made, at least... and hoped the inside would be better. Very glad I haven't bought it at all, I would have combusted into flames

Here's the thing- I can accept some anachronistic language, especially in the right setting. We're NOT living in the 19th century, nor does anyone currently alive have memories of it. No matter how much you immerse yourself in literature or letters, you're not going to get it perfect. And for some people it's a stylistic thing; if you make that clear, I can roll with it. On top of that, some terms are older than people think. I didn't get annoyed when a character said "fake" in the text, because that dates back to at least 1775 as an adjective, 1812 as a verb (albeit meaning "to rob" rather than "to pretend"), and 1851 as a noun.

But in this book, it's just. So blatant. And the book isn't comedy or satire. This author really said "I'm going to write a novel set in 1857 and make no attempt whatsoever to get the dialogue right" because...it was too much effort? She just doesn't like the way people talked back then and wanted it to be #relatable? I have no idea.

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 18

Every AU collection needs a coffeeshop AU, doesn't it? :D Have some Winteriron featuring barista!Tony and a rather flustered Bucky.

Dec 18 - Winteriron - Coffeeshop AU - Candycane

The instant Bucky glimpsed a dark fluff of hair behind the register, he jerked back from the coffeeshop door and plastered himself against the brick exterior wall.

Steve, who’d already reached for the door handle, paused and then stepped back. “Buck?”

“I can’t go in there!” Bucky gasped. “He’s working!”

“Ohhh, so I might actually get a chance to see this mysterious object of your fantasies?” Steve leaned to peer through the window, trying to get a glimpse.

“Steve!” Bucky yanked him back. “Don’t be so fucking obvious, oh my god!”

“Let’s go, I need coffee and I want to meet this guy!” Steve grabbed Bucky’s jacket and dragged him into the store by main force.

Bucky scrambled to act casual as Steve opened the door and the shop bell rang. Luckily, there was a bit of a line, so Tony didn’t spot him right away. He had a few seconds to shake off Steve’s hold and run his fingers through his hair.

Then he looked at Tony and nearly combusted on the spot. Tony was wearing a skin-tight white tee under his red barista’s apron, the fabric clinging to shoulders and arms that were clearly not the result of slinging coffee. There was some kind of ridiculous holiday-themed hair clip tucked into his curls, his eyes were bright and shining, and he was sucking on a candy cane.

He was sucking on the candy cane hard, keeping it in his mouth as he used his hands to scrawl an order on the side of a coffee cup and then rang up the order. The end of the cane wiggled a little bit as Tony’s mouth and tongue moved, and Bucky watched in helpless fascination.

And then the customer in front of them moved and they were standing at the counter. Bucky didn’t think it was just his imagination that Tony’s smile got even brighter.

Tony pulled the candy cane from his mouth and whirled it around one finger as he said, “Hey, it’s my favorite snowflake! And you brought a friend!” He made a show of examining Steve. “Or is it a date?”

“I. No. He. I. That--” Bucky stammered.

“No, not a date,” Steve said. Thank god for Steve.

Then Steve continued, “Of the two of us, I think Bucky would rather date you.” Oh god, Steve sucked.

Bucky could feel his face flaming as he tried to stamp on Steve’s foot. “Christ’s cup, Steve, ain’t you got even a little bit of manners? You can’t just chat someone up when they’re working!”

“I wasn’t chatting him up,” Steve pointed out, nimbly dodging Bucky’s stamping. “I was just saying--”

“Please ignore him,” Bucky pleaded Tony. “He got punched in the head one too many times.”

Tony was laughing, and it was the most musical thing Bucky had ever heard. “Well, now I don’t feel so bad,” he said.

“I, what?”

Tony winked at him. “I’ve been using all my best moves on you, hot stuff, and you haven’t bitten even once. But if it’s a matter of being polite...” He reached over and grabbed the back of the other barista’s shirt, dragging her over to the register.

“Tony!” she squawked, then glanced at Bucky and sighed. “Fine, just this once.” She smiled smoothly at Steve. “Can I take your order, sir?”

Tony pulled the apron off his head and flung it toward a rack of hooks. It missed, but Tony ignored it, ducking around the end of the bar. Two long strides brought him right to Bucky’s side. “I’m on break now,” he said pointedly. “Not working at all.” And then he deliberately licked the length of the candy cane before sticking it back into his mouth and raising his eyebrows at Bucky, expectant.

Bucky’s mouth opened. Closed. “Uh.”

Steve and the other barista were both leaning on the counter, not doing a very good job of suppressing their laughter.

Jerks.

“Would you like?” Bucky tried. Wait, that was incomplete. “To go out?” Better.

Tony grinned around the candy cane. “With you?”

Bucky’s blush wasn’t going to be going away anytime soon, clearly. “Uh. Yes. Please.”

“I’d love to!” Tony chirped, and took another lick of his candy cane. “I’m off work at four, pick me up here?”

“Cane-- I mean, can do,” Bucky managed.