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wmarximoff · 2 years ago

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𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: because Wanda is unlucky enough to understands as much as you do about the responsibility of those with great power — and the losses that come with it.

warnings (18+): smut, angst, handjob, gender neutral reader has a penis, major character death. MINORS DNI.

pairing: emo!Wanda x spider!gn!reader

word count: 4k

masterlist|

(please, don't flag the work)

༺ᱬ༻

There was something gratifying you could point to in the idea that, propelling yourself into the air, climbing in that arachnid-like acrobatics with your own body to the zephyrs of frigid wind in furrows at that high enraptured speed, the world around you could well be so tiny and contained that it would even be deprived of external evils and annoyances when seen from above.

And you always watched it from above, from above, from the corners, in swaying webs, flight towards the urban labyrinth of a city marked by its own life, in a majestic and vigorous existence – a giant that shines even when the dusk of night falls, warm even in the face of a shroud of icy snow in the middle of that October winter.

Admittedly, the cosmopolitanly avant-garde structures that made up the metropolis of New York were sprawling, treacherous, and indeed even fragile, but the charm of the Big Apple was passed right over everyone else's heads, on the surface, when you didn't peer deep into the alley violence in that capitalist machine that encompassed you as much as it did any other New York passer-by.

Your distinguishing factor, however, your peculiarity, was that for many of those people you were a protector, a masked safeguard of their integrity in the face of the everyday hostility that the system so poorly failed to sustain. You were responsible for protecting the helpless, the underprivileged, the underserved, the mainstay of the marginalized and the forgotten. You were, in accordance with your moral duties, the friend of the neighborhood.

Swinging from one building to the next was part of the job at that point. Aerial locomotion became more practical and utilitarian when dealing with moving from one point to another between the skyscrapers that rose to the dark immensity of the night, like arrows shot to the top of the borough of Queens, where a kind of human spider like you moved upwards, climbing and shooting webs, leaving behind trampled footprints in the accumulated snow on the corners of the parapets and on the lightning rod antennas.

You propelling yourself into the dark sky, your muscle cords contracting, pumping blood, gusts of icy air sliding through the fabric of your dark mask, inflating the white eight-legged spider etching emblazoned on your torso. Feeling fucking alive.

In front of panes of glass, pale lights and hums, there was the frenzy of a city that never sleeps – in an intense rustling buzz, active and dynamic amid the white snow and the thousands of lighted lamps, with people carrying briefcases, with suits and ties and sheltered in heavy clothes, with children and with animals, alone or in packs, cars mottled on the white streets, advertisements flashing everywhere. Conversations meandering through the most disparate topics possible to parrot about, a veritable array of options.

Life was happening right below you, as you swung in a black and white suit over the tops of pylons and tall buildings, beads of icy sweat pouring down the length of your back, delirious ecstasy pulsing through your veins added to your warm, radioactive blood.

But, away from the noise of the night's bustle, your web swings that night were heading towards a final stop on an otherwise quiet round – a small apartment complex with thin walls, raised in stone and red brick and in poor plumbing, rather weather-beaten, with a rent worthy of the salary of a pizza delivery person (and part-time barista) like you in Northwest Queens. A place where you've resided since you found yourself being on your own, a little over a year ago, because you weren't exactly the lucky kind of kid.

However, no longer so far from the popular residence, huddled in an arachnid position right on top of the snowy tiles of a corner market, behind the acrylic lenses in the shape of tears, both your eyes compressed their lids in a comically expression, confused in a furrow of brows, since out of the glass of that window situated on the eighth floor were beams of a white lamp luminescence – and, as far as you held a knowledge in your memory, you had left your dwelling still by the end of that partially sunny afternoon, therefore, never having even turned on the lamps that day.

“Shit,” beneath the fabric of the mask you held your frigid breath, sharpening your senses into a state of alert.

It only took a single jump propelled by your lower limbs and an accurate web shot ejected from the shooter attached to your right wrist, aimed right at the edge of the building's terrace, for you to maneuver cautiously in the air, between the light poles, like an elusive feline to then crawling up the emergency stairs outside your living room window, peering in for a glimpse of who the intruder might be that would have crept into your residence while you were away, merging with the shadows that shrouded that cold night.

But the ice in your lungs soon softened into puddles of itself, and at what lay there, laid out for your view from within those four withered walls that encompassed the narrow cubicle you called home. Your heart pumped in liquid explosion inside your ribcage that spread to the pit of your stomach, taking everything in its path in a dizzying hot drag. And that's why a tiny silly smile allowed itself to be enjoyed by the commission of your lips, against the thin fabric of your mask – it was just a natural act for you, to smile foolishly at the splendorous vision of Wanda Maximoff.

The far view alone was enough for you to find yourself smiling and truly content at your core – Wanda lying on your own bed, between thick blankets and poorly stacked piles of pillows, so oblivious to the fact that she was being watched; the pale expanses of her ring-lined fingers so subtly being nibbled on by her teeth, her nails varnished by a black nail polish chipped at the tips, one opalescent knee crossed over the other next to her chest, her dark miniskirt exposing her firm thighs in a way just as appealing to your desiring gaze.

And you loved the fact that her brown hair modulated coffee-colored tones when arranged in the dead of night, only in the pale light of a lamp placed near the right end of the bed – how even though it seemed so dark in the confines of that room, Wanda glowed in her own light sweeping a strand of profuse chestnut hair behind the shell of her right ear, her ringlet gleaming silver, her gaze so intent on the little television set in front of her.

How her irises seemed to adhere to traces of a mossy hue so bleak out of the sun, yet almost bordering on the innocence of someone who was only enjoying a television program displayed on the squalid screen of the small television set that was placed in front of the opposite wall to the bed, just above a small second-hand wooden table.

Over her torso she wore an old dark sweatshirt of yours, made of thick, warm material, bought at a Hot Topic store a few years ago, when you were still in your high school years. And Wanda was beautiful – the owner of a casual beauty, a simple natural and simple neatness, the kind in which there is no effort to pretend to be pretty. A beauty that begins and ends with itself, just because she was beautiful. The most beautiful sight anyone's eyes could be graced with. The kind that made you feel lucky, lucky to have her for yourself.

But it was then that the cold came to haunt you in a gust of stiff wind, the frozen hand of winter tracing the vertebrae of your spine in a chilling contact on your epidermis, which gelled the blood flowing in your veins and turned your bones to ice. Only then did you realize the reality where you were hanging on the snowy emergency stairs outside your apartment, away from the warm weather and away from Wanda.

And so, with your gloved right hand, you managed to lift the window and head your way into the small room, stepping on the floorboards inside with your left foot.

“Hey little witch, are you breaking and entering now? And here I thought you were one of the good guys...”

“Y/n!” Wanda got pleased immediately and, from the bed, she turned with her chin towards your voice that came from the window, a smile emerging in the outline of those pink lips she had, then getting up to receive you properly.

“It's cold outside, get in quick! You're going to catch a cold!”

And her southeastern European accent, still bathed by the Adriatic Sea, made itself present in her low-toned speech, hardening the enunciation of that soft voice. That's why you smiled – the tone of Wanda's voice always warmed your loving chest.

“Fine, fine, I'm fine,” you muttered in an enthusiastic tone, bringing your left hand behind you down on the windowpane that prevented any more gusts of icy wind from piercing the blister of heat that had become infatuated through the walls of that small room.

“I'm in one piece, see? Healthy as a,” you smiled to yourself, “Well, as a spider.”

And a chaste smile flickered back between Wanda's lips, a hint of skin being scrunched across the bridge of her nose in an adorable way, “You're such a goof, web-head.”

So it was that the young woman came walking towards you, warm, smiling, with open arms to welcome you into her affections.

And you took her for yourself, pulling Wanda's body close to yours, whereupon clever fingers dressed in silver rings hooked on the seam cut of your mask right in the middle of your neck, slowly then hoisting it so that in front of the Wanda's gaze revealed the skin of your chin, and then the pulp of your lips; the jadish irises aimed at your mouth and, morosely, the young woman bent down to take a kiss from you herself.

You held her, groping your fingers around her waist, when it was that, in a dizzying, crimson electric shock, soaked in a jubilation of fiery delight, your lips touched in a prudish, measured way. It was a kiss of a simple nature, yet lingering on her lips and imbued with impetuous feelings – the need joined to longing, the happiness of a jovial and healthy love. Something in you just yearned to return to her arms every day, as if your soul fit hers like a jigsaw puzzle by your lips united in a single tune.

“Hi,” you lisped in the tiniest tone against her mouth.

“Hey, детка,” was Wanda's reply, who still had the hem of your mask pressed between her rings, before she hoisted her forearms up to her chin and completely removed the piece of cloth that covered your face expression as smiling as hers.

“I really love your eyes, Y/n.”

“I can say the same for you, my little witch.”

After a little simpler caress of love exchanged, more kisses and hugs and little oaths of longing, you two separated then in reluctance so that you would undress your cold spider suit, choosing to wear more casual clothes and comfortable on your body – a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of snug, vaguely baggy sweatpants. And while you were doing that, Wanda, sitting right on the edge of your bed, watched you in front of the tiny closet door nearby, where a small door opened onto a narrow, dark room with clothes hanging on hangers and a small yellow light dripping from the ceiling.

“I was looking over your crime board earlier, before you arrived, and...” as she talked, her chin was supplanted by the elbow resting on the right knee of her crossed legs.

“Mmm?”

Wanda looked at you for half a second, her face creasing in curiosity, “Who's Wilson Fisk?”

“Kingpin,” your voice was somewhat muffled by the dark shirt you were halfway pulling on over your head.

“He's one of the crime bosses around here, he's involved in some pretty serious shit around town,” at last, you tucked the shirt over your torso.

“And I've been on his tail for a few months now, but I need to get on with my work if I'm going to gather enough evidence to expose him to the public legally. It's going to be difficult since he has pretty much the entire political underworld in the palm of his hand and other stuff too, of course, but... but I think I'm getting somewhere with this, yeah.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “That sounds… kinda dangerous, Y/n,” Wanda sniffed with her nose to the side, speaking more to herself than to you per se.

“Maybe if you talked to Clint or Nat they could help you with that. Steve too, even. I know they are all willing to help you if you ask. Steve… you know, he’d really like you to take a chance and be on the team for a while. He thinks you'd make a good Avenger.”

"Yeah, I don't know about that, Wands," you muttered back, raising your right eyebrow at the idea.

“I don't think it's in the Avengers' niche to worry about that kind of thing, you know? I mean, you guys kind of exist to deal with out-of-the-galaxy threats and crazed AIs and evil government organizations and all that shit, don't you? And, well, Fisk is a pretty big fish in his own way, that's true... but he's just a stupid old bald guy who blackmails the local politicians and has created a criminal empire out of bribery and corruption – which is not it's very different from the billionaires we know out there. The difference is that Fisk is not a threat on a global scale.”

At the not-so-indirect burn to Stark Industries that couldn't be ignored, Wanda couldn't help but giggle infinitesimally under her breath, an act that elicited a goofy little smile from you, swaying your shoulders into your baggy blouse.

“Well,” she smiled a little too, in a kind of assent to your words, “You're not wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you turned your head toward her, as your right foot tucked into the seam of thick gray cotton sweatpants.

“Plus, I have this certain, umm, responsibility to the people of this town, I guess. It was a promise I made after all, I... I'm here for them, both to keep all that crazy shit from spilling over on them, and just to look out for them when no one else does. That's my job around here, my function. It's just what I do. I'm not a super spy, or a super soldier, a genius billionaire or a giant green strong guy, Wands. I’m, I’m only...”

“The friendly neighborhood web-head?”

At your roll of eyes, Wanda smirked, like a small rabbit with moderately larger front teeth than the rest.

“That's just mean, witchy. I really prefer Spidey, you know? Spidey.”

“Spidey,” the young enchantress reiterated to you, “Well, anything sounds better than the Witch anyway. That's so fucking pejorative, like, burn the witch or something, what the fuck. I’m not a fucking witch.”

“You aren’t?”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes out of their sockets comically.

“The Witch, huh…” you looked at her, almost laughing when you did, “People really aren't good at coming up with superhero names, are they? Because this one is really bad. Really bad.”

“No,” Wanda chuckled in agreement, shaking her head, “They're not, not at all. And I’m not a superhero.”

“I see,” you droned, “And what are you then?”

For a second, Wanda looked at you, “A unlucky person who has made a lot of bad choices in her life.”

The television, which was flashing some old episode of a sitcom that made up Wanda's favorite series collection, was the only thing that filled the room with any kind of light or sound some time later, since, after stuffing yourself with the chicken paprikash that your beloved had prepared for you and then packed and stored in your fridge, the two of you snuggled in each other's arms, away from the cold and the chill, under a thatched hut with thick blankets on your bed during that bitter winter night.

But it was when you turned in search of a comfortable position to lean back against the pillows and your left elbow brushed Wanda's right, that you two looked at each other curiously as if only then had you realized how close you encompassed each other – two dark gazes in the middle of the room lit only by the artificial lighting of a meaningless program, together, alone.

And you craved the comforting body heat that Wanda radiated when as close to her as you were – the scent of red that wafted from her silky ebony hair and her smooth, pale skin. You felt, however, a gaze peering into you from the line of your jaw and cheekbones, and looking back, Wanda was staring at you with a voluptuous fixation on the darkened green corners of her irises. She looked at you like she could completely consume you, like something about her was going to swallow you up and eat you down, digest you to the bones.

And then, from beneath the cocoon of blankets, a subtle touch spread across your left crotch, still above the thick material of your sweatpants. Your gaze sailed from the heap of blankets placed in the region of your lap to the emerald gaze, so dimmed, of the young woman sitting next to your left elbow.

“Wanda...”

“Mm?” she hummed back, as innocent as could be, as if her fingers weren't so close to groping an area of your body that was already beginning to throb with signs of life.

“Wanda,” you lisped softly, again, so needy, pupils popping and blood bristling through your veins, “What are you…?”

“I missed you, детка,” her fingers dipped deeper and deeper into your crotch, her eyes still screwed into your field of vision as she did so, “I missed you so, so much… I get so lonely in my room in the compound, you know? And all I can think about in those moments is you... how much I miss you.”

She locked her upper teeth against the flesh of her lower lip, stifling a lusty, immoral smile when she realized something – already petrified in a flash of desire, beneath the fabric of your pants, was your semi-erection, a noticeable bulge that made Wanda's mouth throb with desire.

"And I bet you miss me too, don't you?"

“Of course I do,” you huffed out a breath of warm air, “Fuck Wanda, every goddamn night… every goddamn night I miss you.”

The bright, lively hand, with thin fingers wrapped in rings and well-cut black nails, couldn't help but travel through the dazzling skin of your abdomen, exposed by the lifting of your long-sleeved blouse, starting from the south, from your navel, into your hips, into the hem of your pants. Wanda captured your thick member and gave your shaft an alluring squeeze – her face then hidden in the contour of your neck, in the joint of your shoulder, to nibble, there, a piece of skin.

“Uh-f-fuck, Wanda...” you squirmed out of your nostrils like steam released from your bruised lungs, in a hoarse wail, somewhat drunk with the acute excitement present in your system.

Wanda smiled against your skin, her thumb lethargic caressing the strained head of your cock inside your pants and, in performed innocence, she placed a chaste kiss on the bone at the tip of your jaw.

“Just enjoy it, malышка,” was whispered in her low voice right next to your ear, in an accent hard and robust, but so dizzying when it came out of the crack of Wanda's lips, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

And again, followed this time by a shameless tone of voice, leaking the red color from her pores, Wanda pressed the plump shaft between her slender fingers, causing a softness on your part. Following your moan, she placed a warm kiss behind your left ear.

“Allow me to make you feel good, Y/n.”

Wanda's right hand began its harassed, pleasurable work, up and down the length of your nervous member, raised to the intimate of your burning thighs – and you, wrapped in an embarrassed tremor, were exasperated as Wanda kissed your corner of the half-open mouth and the fluttering earlobe, threading your fingers through her brown locks as if it were a need between your hands, just in search of something to support yourself during that very intimate moment, shared by a couple of lovers as young and needy as you two were.

“Y/n,” she called against your cheekbone, “I… I'm sorry, but I want you inside. Now."

“Fine,” was your airy reply, “Fine.”

And without delay, Wanda passed her thighs over your knees, linking the folds of her elbows to your neck, then sitting on your lap so that a pink and expert tongue could slide inside your mouth as the damp, warm walls from her cunt slid around your erection. And then, one hefty, powerful touch, palms wide open and pressed to the flesh of her ass beneath her skirt, you screeched out of the outline of Wanda's lips a savory moan that squirmed from the very core of your lungs to pulsate against her lips during the carnal act of penetration.

“Бля, детка… тобі так добре, Y/n…” she gasped against the shell of your ear in a drawling semi-moan, “Y/n…”

"Do you like it?" was your question against her skin, to which, girding your cock with her velvety walls, Wanda nodded, bobbing her head up and down.

“I love it,” and, drunk on a wave of scarlet ledice, Wanda smiled, “I love you.”

You fell silent for a measly second, in fact barely realizing what had happened. Television still featured some sitcom that no longer mattered to you or even her, who was most attracted to the thing between you two – not being as close as you were in that primitive, carnal or even lewd way; skin with skin, flesh with flesh. Raw, visceral, passionate. It was cold outside, but your chest had never felt as warm as it did during that moment. She loved you. She loved you.

“You love me?”

Pulling her face away from your neck, Wanda looked at you with bright eyes from under thick, heavy lashes. She looked at you like no one else but her ever had before.

“I love you, детка,” was a whisper, a promise, “I love you, Y/n.”

When she started to go down everything became hazy, pulsing, hot, red. Wanda was moving up and down your body and you felt her backs arch convulsively, still continuing, creeping towards her cervix, rubbing her from the inside with the head of your cock.

And she rode you with such firmness, moaning and crying out, doing the penetration herself while your eyes converged in a single vision; Wanda moving up and down, over and over, seeking with her hips, until you both came in a delirium of dizzying pleasure; you pouring yourself inside her walls, into her flesh, and her thighs pale, wet, at the meeting with your hips. When she sighed wearily against the hollow of your neck, you smiled into a lock of her hair.

“I love you, little witch.”

It was perfect, you and her. So perfect that you pledged your love two or three more times that night, loving each other in the flesh, in the core, in the heart. Making you cling to the luck of having that miserable moment reserved for you and her, wanting to multiply it, make it last as long as possible.

It was as if, about a month or two after the event, already at the end of that winter suffered on a late December afternoon, Natasha Romanoff had not found herself leaving the corridors of the compound, walking stiff towards Wanda’s room, the soles of her boots full of soot and snow.

As if, among the strands of that short fire-colored hair, the residue of shards of sparkling glass did not shimmer after a painful fall – as if the Black Widow's lower lip were not found bloody and swollen after an arduous fight, as if she had not left a child to fight alone until it was too late for her interposition to mean anything decisive. As if Natasha hadn't been advised by Captain America to let Wanda, still as young, as damaged as she was, digest what happened, still so recent in the popular imagination, on her own.

“She's going to need some time, Nat,” pleaded Steve in a disgustingly grim tone, when they, he and she, were still sharing the elevator space just after returning from the big city with blood on their hands.

“Give Wanda a break, she's been through a lot. She doesn't need it right now. She’s… she’s just a kid. An unfortunate kid.”

But Natasha walked into Wanda's room in that snowy early evening, the emissary of news so atrocious that it had just left the streets, with blood and glass and corpses everywhere, a body count so tragic it could have had more, much lower if you hadn't intervened. Of course, you. But you weren't the one there to tell Wanda what the result of that fight with Wilson Fisk that Christmas Eve night had been. Natasha was the figure standing there, clutching the remains of your mask between the fingers of her right hand. It felt so pointless. As pointless as telling a young girl her lover was dead could be. Your mask felt meaningless.

“Wanda, I…I…”

But Wanda was nowhere to be found in her spacious bed after the Black Widow entered the room filled with posters on the walls and ceiling, stuffed animals arranged next to the pillows and the books piled orderly on the shelves. That was a young person's room, Natasha thought. Wanda was young. The television bolted to the wall adjacent to the window followed the live narration that portrayed a hideous explosion in Hell's Kitchen, where the fire department was still in the process of fully assessing the high and enigmatic number of lives claimed that night.

Wanda was in the bathroom, after all, when Natasha walked over — sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, threading her fingers through her long hair, scratching the scalp as she squinted at her burning eyes where tears were streaming from; sadness that marked her cheeks. She looked as small and as young as could be. And then it was that Natasha remembered. She realized, indeed, what had happened.

Carrying your spidery mask with her, Natasha remembered that both you and Wanda were really just a pair of unfortunate children, as she herself had once been too – children who carried greater responsibilities than you could even handle, with a maturity as mechanical and precocious as what the world demanded of you two. Children like her. Unlucky children.

“What… what– what am I going to do Nat…?” Wanda sobbed, still not lifting her eyes to the open crack in the door, where the older woman was standing, still bloody, still injured, “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

And Natasha wanted to answer her. She wanted to, she opened her bruised lips to do so and then utter that speech she had already had in mind since she had held your body in her arms, still tucked inside that spider suit, in the snow and in the dark. But she immediately contained herself, refraining herself even before doing so, because that was when she saw it – prepared eyes spotted beside Wanda's so small and curved body a plastic rod with two lines marked in a baby pink color.

“Wanda… is... is that…?”

“I don’t know what to do,” she cried, “I don’t know, I don’t know…”

A pregnancy test of the kind one can buy at any local pharmacy, and the result was positive. And your mask was in her hands because you were gone. She was supposed to give it to Wanda as a reminder of your memory, but Wanda would have more to remember you by than a simple torn and bloody piece of cloth. She was pregnant after all. And you – you were dead. You were nothing but an unlucky dead bastard.

“I… I don't know,” Natasha's fingers tightened on the damn tattered fabric, “I'm so sorry, Wanda. I don't know… I don’t know.”

Wanda's tears, wide and warm, dripped between her bare feet on the pale bathroom floor tile. She had never felt so unlucky as she did at that moment.

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porcelainseashore · 2 months ago

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Coffee & Secrets (7)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: It's the motherfucking finale! 🤘

AO3 Link

Chapter 7: (Re)prise

It was just like any other night. The moon hung low, and clusters of stars littered the sky—some bright and pulsating, others muted with a faint glow. You leaned your back against the front door of the shop, taking in the damp, cool air. It smelled of earth and dew. A light mist pervaded the horizon as you gave yourself a few more minutes to admire the quiet dark before heading inside.

It did not take long for him to show up. Like a creature of habit, he returned to this special place seeking shelter, comfort, a warm drink, and good company.

“Congratulations, Leon!” It tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He froze, his feet rooted to the ground as he did a double take. “Did you just—”

“I, um… it was uh…” you struggled to find the right words for an excuse, but somehow your brain refused to function at that moment.

“Another hunch?” he suggested, winking at you.

You laughed nervously, “I-I guess you could call it that, yeah.”

Wandering over to you, he stated modestly, “Anyway, I’ve only passed the screening test. There’s still the basic training that all new S.T.A.R.S. recruits have to go through.”

Before he could continue, you reached out, throwing your arms around him as you hugged him tightly. He gasped in surprise at first, then chuckled as he returned the embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, Leon. You’ve come so far,” you pointed out. “I’m sure your parents must be proud too.”

His body relaxed into yours and you could feel his smile against the crook of your neck. “They don’t know yet,” he admitted. “Actually, no one knows about it, except you.”

Meeting your gaze, he added, “When I got the news, all I could think about was how I wanted you to be the first person to share it with.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied. Brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, his touch lingered on your skin before he let you go. “I’ll make us drinks to celebrate.”

“That’s my job,” you protested, but his sheer persistence won you over and you gave in. However, one thing was non-negotiable—if he wanted to work at your shop, he had to wear an apron too.

And so, the tables were turned as you sat in the customer’s seat, experiencing what it was like for once to be served.

“You look great,” you hollered through your cupped hands from the opposite side of the counter before giving him a thumbs up. “Very professional.”

He flashed you a middle finger before rummaging through the ingredients that were stacked on the shelves. Despite that, you did not have a clue what to expect as he was deliberately being secretive about it.

Finally, Leon emerged with two drinks of the same kind, meticulously decorated like something you had seen out of a fancy magazine. Even from afar, you could recognize that heavenly smell anywhere.

No way he could’ve found out, could he? you wondered.

“Ma’am.” Setting the drink before you, he bowed melodramatically as you rolled your eyes, and laughed in response.

You savored it slowly, allowing the taste to envelope your mouth as you enjoyed it to the very last drop. Leon looked at you expectantly while he sipped at his portion.

“My favorite…” you whispered in awe. “How did you know?”

The smile on his face grew. “I’m a good listener.”

You recalled all the long conversations you had late into the night, the way he wanted to learn more about you, and his interest in even the most mundane things in your life. He had gathered everything and guessed your favorite drink.

“By the way, I believe this is long overdue.”

Taking you into his arms, he placed his lips over yours without hesitation, kissing you tenderly for the first time. His mouth moved in sync with your own, spelling out his intention of prolonging the kiss, as soft sighs and moans slipped between breaths. You felt his body press up heatedly against yours. His fingers ran through your hair before coming to rest at the back of your head, tilting it at angle so that he could deepen the kiss. Your grip on his collar tightened as he licked across the seam of your lips, gently coaxing them apart. His tongue caressed yours endlessly and you lost yourself in his kisses, his touch, like a bottomless pit of the ocean. It was exhilarating.

When you came up for air, time had stopped. Holding his face between your hands, you saw him for who he truly was—Leon, the brave, caring, and intelligent man you knew, radiant in all his glory. You would never tire of this moment, and you could always rewind back to it, reliving the same scene again and again if you wished to.

But you did not.

Maybe it was time to let go of the uncanny ability you had. Maybe it was time to appreciate each moment as it was. Fleeting, beautiful, and one of a kind.

As the distant strains of piano notes played in the background, things slowly came back to life. You read his swollen lips as they shifted, his vibrant blue eyes glittering under the ceiling lights.

“What’s on my mind right now?” Leon challenged playfully, stroking the side of your cheek with affection.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, though there was something melancholic about drawing this chapter of your life to a close.

“I want you,” he murmured, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them delicately. “As my girlfriend.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you teased, unable to contain your smile any longer. “Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Mmm, I could get used to that.” He nuzzled your nose fondly. “Say it again.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Endnotes

Thank you for reading!

In case you’re wondering what uncanny ability Reader had, she was a time traveler, which is a part of what is revealed with the barista in Coffee Talk. One example of this was how Reader knew Leon had passed the screening test before he even told her.

I purposely kept it vague whether she had time traveled or relied on her natural skills to talk with people, as I believe she was also a very empathetic and perceptive person. It was more a little of boost she used here and there, seeing as she very much wanted to be a source of comfort for others when they needed it.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #coffee shop au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #fic: coffee & secrets #porcelainscribbles

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stilestheabominablesnowman · 2 years ago

Note

Tyler with an s/o that controls plants, they're definitely a pothead, so Tyler asks Thornhill to keep them "I mean look at them, are they really that evil? What can they possibly do?" And the camera cuts to reader who is drinking their hot coco and smiles over at them and waves. Come on I think Tyler with a pothead would be funny

Keep Them - Tyler Galpin

summary: Tyler with a s/o that controls plants

warning: none

GNl!Reader

A/N: Send more Tyler requests! Smut requests are accepted. Lmk if you want a part 2 with Angst, smut or fluff.

At first, all Tyler was to you was the cute barista at the weathervane. But he memorized your order, Hot coco, heavy on the whipped cream, and sat with you. He asked you questions, like how your day was a Nevermore, what you thought of your classes. He complemented you constantly. And when you accidentally burned your tongue and ended up causing vines to crawl up the sides of the booth, he wasn't freaked out or repulsed. He thought it was beautiful.

He was amazed by the lengths of your abilities. Your 6th time at the weathervane, he asked you on a date.

"Go out with me? I'll take you on a picnic or something. Somewhere nice and cozy."

How could you say no to him? He was by far one of the cutest and sweetest men you'd ever met. And he wasn't disgusted by you.

So you found youself sitting infront of his car, on a blanket at the edge of the woods.

He knew you found the wood comforting somehow, maybe it was a guess based on your power.

You sat for hours talking, until the sun was going down. You even created a flower in the palm of your hand to give to him.

He called you beautiful, and drove you back to Nevermore, before you got out of the car, he kissed you goodbye. That night was the beginning of a blooming relationship.

He soon discovered the little things about you, like how you grew your own pot in your dorm, and smoked it every day. He was surprised by that considering he thought you were just naturally a goofy person, but he quickly found out that you were just a pot head.

There wasnt a time where you weren't at least a little bit high. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world, expecially when you got super high and started complaining about hearing the trees cry.

For some reason he believed you on that.

You thought it was strange when he begun hanging around Miss Thornhill, but you only ever saw them at the Weathervane so you thought he was just being friendly.

This lead to now, Tyler is sitting with Miss Thornhill and you sit on the other end of the cafe.

"You've got to drop Y/N, They aren't good for you. You know all outcasts are evil." She insists.

"Look at them, are they really that evil? What can they possibly do?" Tyler says, and looks to you. Miss Thornhills eyes follow his to you, and you sip on your coco and wave enthusiastically at them. He smiles and waves back.

Miss thornhill, scowls. "Fine. You can keep them."

#tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine

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toomuchracket · 6 months ago

Note

barista matty… bluetooth vibrator while he’s on shift w the remote and you’re in cafe… maybe…

oh my GOD your mind. you coming into the shop after work and just waiting until closing to go home for dinner with him, and as he hugs you hello he whispers "got you a present. d'you want to go and put it on for me, bunny? it's in my locker", and you KNOW because of that nickname he's Up To Something. but tbh you're in the mood, so you agree, and you find the new vibrator you had ordered together last week; you wink and nod at your man when you come back through into the shop with his hoodie on and your book, and as he brings you over a fruit cooler he's discretely like "not a sound, alright? can cum all you want, but only i get to know about it". and he's EVIL with it, turning the vibrations off and on again at random, and leaving it constant on full power while the shop is at its busiest - you actually lose track of how many little orgasms you have, soaking clean through your tights, but you do as you're told and stay silent the whole time. only when matty's waved his colleagues off with a "go, have a nice night, we'll lock up" do you just let out a sob, and he just scoops you up and kisses your head like "oh, my darling, i'm so proud of you. took that so, so well, perfect girl. i know you've been through a lot, bunny, but have you got one more in you? just for me? wanna fill you up, give you a treat for being so good for me?", and you sniffle but nod like "please, sir, need you"; neither of you last very long - you're so overstimulated that you're soaking matty within seconds - but you feel a lot better actually having him inside you instead of the toy, and even more so when he stays inside you and kisses you calm afterwards. once you and the shop are clean, it's home to yours for some dinner, a nice bath, and lots of cuddles to sleep. dreamy <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #smutty asks #barista matty

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fandomfluffandfuck · 8 months ago

Note

Ok ok ok ok, the post about Steve drawing a portrait of his own dick for Bucky’s wallet, and all your posts about Steve’s exhibitionist streak -

My uncle is a photographer and at their old house he had a picture up in the spare bedroom, of my aunt from their honeymoon where she’s naked on a beach. It’s artfully shadowed and you’d have to stare at it for a while to understand what you’re looking at (or at least I did when I was 9), but I distinctly remember him taking it down once before a dinner party, winking at me, and saying something like, “this doesn’t stay up for company.”

Steve drawing intimate portraits of himself for Bucky. Bucky starts just the way you wrote, as a silly little ask to keep in his wallet and make Steve blush, but also because Steve never had self confidence in himself as an artist and is resisting getting back into it even as a hobby, and Bucky figures that anything that will get Steve drawing again is a good thing, especially if he can rib him for it. But that doesn’t prepare Bucky for the look on Steve’s face the first time Bucky pulls out his wallet when Steve KNOWS the photo is in there.

They’re at a neighborhood coffee shop. The shop is busy, people passing by everywhere. After learning about credit card fees both he and Steve try to pay with cash whenever they can, so Bucky is chatting with the barista as he digs through his wallet for exact change. He turns to Steve to ask if he has 26 cents and-

Bucky scoffs whenever people say that honesty is one of Steve’s positive attributes, cause yeah, the guy’s honest, but with a poker face as shitty as his, he doesn’t really have a choice.

Bucky sees it all on his face. Beet red from his hairline to where his collarbones peek out from his shirt, mouth gulping in shallow breaths, eyes wide and terrified and so dark he looks high, bouncing between the wallet in Bucky’s hand and the people getting creamer behind him. He’s so overwhelmed that he hasn’t even thought to cover himself, and his dick (flaccid in the portrait; should Bucky have questioned that choice? Did Steve draw what he saw? Or did he get hard and feel ashamed of it?) is hard under his jeans, begging for Bucky to reach out and grab. Steve’s eyes flicker up to Bucky’s, and a slow, evil smirk slides across Bucky’s lips.

“C’mon Stevie, help me out. You don’t want me to drop anything on the floor, do you?”

Something in Steve’s head clicks and he jerks back to life, digging out his own wallet and handing over the change, eyes on his shoes. Instead of waiting at the counter, Bucky drags Steve to a spot on the back wall and, casual as can be, moves his body between Steve’s and the cafe and cups a large hand between Steve’s legs.

“Bucky, what-“

“That’s why you said yes, isn’t it?” Bucky murmurs, dragging his hand up and down like a slow handjob. Steve chokes on his own saliva, eyes glued to Bucky’s. “You weren’t just indulging me, you LIKE it. You like thinking that any stranger coming up behind me could see me handling your dick like money. I don’t have to put your ass on the corner, you printed your own cock-sucker cash just for me.”

Steve whimpers, fine trembles running through his limbs. He knows his safe word. He doesn’t use it.

“What would Maggie think if I handed her your cock to pay for my latte? She’d want more next time, wouldn’t she? A pretty cock like that, you can’t get just once, huh?”

They get out of the cafe without being charged with indecent exposure, and the moment they get home Bucky muscles Steve to the bed and fucks him until he’s wailing.

After, they get up. Reheat their lukewarm coffee. Watch rugby on TV while Bucky absentmindedly rubs Steve’s feet, until it’s time for Steve to leave for a jog with Nat.

Just as Steve is about to head out the door, Bucky calls, “Hey Steve? When you get home, I want you to draw yourself hard. Use that nice paper I got you for Christmas. About time we put up some more art around here, huh?”

Over the next few months Steve draws dozens of sketches of himself, and one by one they go up on the walls of their apartment. Mostly in private areas like their bedroom or the en-suite, but every so often they’ll have Sam or Nat over and Steve will glance up in the middle of a sentence and feel his throat fill with fire because Bucky’s snuck one of them up. It’s half hidden behind the curtains but Steve sees it every time the breeze blows through the open window; that’s the one he drew on the floor, on his hands and knees, a system of mirrors rigged between his legs so he could sketch himself as Bucky rocked into him. He drew everything, from the precum drooling from under his foreskin to his dangling balls to Bucky’s shaft gleaming with lube and stretching him open.

He doesn’t let himself look at it for the rest of the night. He doesn’t know if Sam or Nat see it. But when they say their goodbyes and Bucky closes the door behind them, Bucky turns to Steve already on the floor on his knees, on his chest, whining in helplessness as he struggles to pull his clothing off without changing position.

Bucky doesn’t help him. Leans against the door and plays with his own cock as Steve finally gets his jeans and underwear down, contorts his arm so he can pull back a cheek, whimpers for it.

Bucky goes to him. But not before grabbing Steve’s sketchbook.

related to this

I 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 love 👏🏻 this 👏🏻

Like, oh my fucking GOD, this is so good. This is such a good fucking concept and then the way you wrote on top of that--the dirty talk especially, christ--makes it irresistible. Fuck.

This is fantastic. Thank you so, so much for this. This is going to and already does live rent-free in my head 😮‍💨😮‍💨 I can see every part of this ask, and it's filthy and beautiful

#asks #sail-not-drift #anon provided writing #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #artist steve rogers #artist steve

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ninapi · 11 months ago

Text

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Obsession❜ (Christmas Special)┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: When someone doesn't know you exist is your sole source of comfort, things can't get a bit weird. In Christmas day things are better for everyone, including Geto Suguru.

Word Count: 2717

Note: Merry xmas everyone! 🫶🏻🎄☃️

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

A wondering soul that feeds on human filth. That’s the way he would describe himself, especially on nights like this.

The night sky was murky, not a single star in the sky and it looked like it would snow any time now.

He’s had to swallow three curses today and the negative toll in his body could be noticed a mile away.

His thoughts had been very chaotic as of late and he barely even sleeps.

All he thinks about is how awful this world is and how it’d be better if curses didn’t exist, but not even the strongest sorcerer would be able to wipe them all clean, as more grow out of humans every day.

Humans must be the problem, why must they be so evil and hateful, why are they always so depressed and anxious? If they were sorcerers the world wouldn’t be this bad, is their fault for not being able to use curse energy but create it and let it out of control.

Useless, useless humans.

On his way back to the academy Suguru stopped by a cafe that looked like it was about to close.

He needed something bitter, something that would kill that disgusting taste out of his mouth.

The only worker left in said cafe was a girl that appeared to be about his age, probably a part-timer, even in the dark her beautiful rounded eyes and shining smile were a sight for sore eyes.

She took his order and headed to the back to prepare it herself as the rest of her coworkers had headed home for the night. When she came back with his order though, it wasn’t at all what he had ordered, “I’m sorry, I’m actually not a barista so making a hand dripped seasonal coffee isn’t in my skill set, but my parents say I’m very good at making hot chocolate and since it’s so cold outside today, I thought maybe what you needed was just something warm and sweet? Maybe I read the situation wrong but I hope you like it nonetheless, you don’t have to pay me or anything!” she had even done a cute snowman print on the top of the foam for his drink and he couldn’t help but smile.

A nice ending to such an awful day.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

There’s a reason why Suguru doesn’t sleep well, the nightmares hunt him, some aren’t even related to his life, the overconsumption of curses has been doing some damage in his mental stability and he is even afraid of his own shadow at times.

He still hates humanity, he’s this deranged all because of them.

All except that one sweet girl from the coffee shop down second avenue, she’s an angel.

He wished he at least knew her name, but he wasn’t proactive enough to even ask.

In nights like this, where his nightmares keep coming back over and over again doesn’t matter how many times he’d wake up in the middle of them, all that would ground him to reality was the thought of her smile.

He’d imagine him walking over from behind, surprising her with a soft warm hug. Wrap his scarf around the two of them so she wouldn’t be able to escape his love.

He’d imagine her making more of that hot chocolate that was oh so delicious and completely wiped out the taste of death from his mouth.

Even better, he’d imagine her kissing the hot chocolate into his mouth.

While he was not able to sleep even with such comforting thoughts, at least the nightmares would go away.

But this night in particular he just didn’t seem to be able to snap out of it, he’d talk to his pillow like it was you, holding it close to his body, sweet talking it to its death as it has now been reduced to mush and it’s in his trashcan after a wave of reality made him seen the pillow for what it was.

So next morning he was just not able to control himself anymore, he had to see her, he had to look into those beautiful eyes up close, even if it was for a second he needed to hear her lovely voice, sniff the same air that came out of her mouth while greeting customers, he needed to be in the same space as her, even if he didn’t dare to come closer.

He learned your name was (Y/N) after one of your coworkers yelled at you after spilling some coffee on the counter and burning a customer’s hand. He wanted nothing more than to burn his face with the same coffee just so he would scream in pain. How dare he yell at someone as precious as you? That scum, of course, he had to be human…

That day he also learned you don’t work there every day and that you’re in school too. You were reading some cards while there were no customers ordering, like a good girl. Such a lovely dedicated young woman, you had to be a saint for sure, a goddess probably.

And with an all time high, he left the shop without you even noticing he was there.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

In all truth, he thought seeing you for real once more would put an end to this tightness of his chest. He was fully conscious of how creepy he was being and how unreasonable it was to be feeling so many things for a complete stranger, but things were very difficult for him.

He was lonely, sad, stressed. A huge turmoil was building up inside of him as days went by and you were the only positive thing inside that mind of his.

Hence, he held into the thought of you so tightly that at some point he stopped having nightmares completely. All he would dream about was of that lovely face of yours and how you would live with him in this beautiful world without regular humans and curses.

But he forgot something crucial.

You were very much one of them, a human, nothing more.

And the realization of that hit him hard on the face when Friday came around, the day to drop by the cafe and creep on you without anybody noticing.

Just that this Friday was different.

A pesky curse was touching you in a nasty way, almost as if it was fondling you.

Of course you couldn’t see it, nor feel it really, but distress was clear on your face the entire time he was there.

He had to do something, he couldn’t allow that disgusting thing to keep its hands on his precious babe.

But what if eating said curse tasted like you?

A sudden need to get it into his array of curses rose in his chest sending him to spiral into a very unexpected ride that left him panting and whimpering on his seat, traumatizing a child that was sitting on a table close by.

He was creeping himself out at this point, but the thought of you was the only thing that kept him away from total insanity, and he needed to get that thing off of you, was the least he could do after all you’ve done for him, even if you had no clue of what that was.

But he didn’t know how to get it off without you noticing, he had to develop a plan quickly. And so he remained hidden on an alleyway close to the shop waiting for you to leave for the day.

Once you did, you looked miserable. Staying all day watching you like a hawk made him realize you weren’t the happy goddess he thought you were but a normal human. The same coworker that yelled at you last time kept harassing you all day and to make it worse someone called you in your break and he could hear you sobbing from where he was hidden. It was now clear to him that curse was actually coming out of you, it wasn’t something that got attached but rather created by you. An awful realization as he saw how not even his pure angel was free from the disgusting nature of human kind.

You were stressed and sad and that made this weak pesky curse to come out. He wanted to do more for you than just exterminating the flower of doom that blossomed from your distress, he knew that wouldn’t really make all that was bugging you to go away, but was all he could do. He couldn’t really just talk to you after all.

He had been so hooked up with the entire situation that he hadn’t noticed today was Christmas Day. Apparently to you that was a big thing and for the look on your face probably the plans had been cancelled earlier.

The curse noticed him following them and kept taunting him by touching you in a suggestive manner as if making fun of him, it was irritating to say the least but he couldn’t just send one of his big curses to chase it away, it could get you harmed and that’s the last thing he wants.

He had to get close and he didn’t know what to do.

Lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize you had stopped walking, making him bump onto your back. The drink you were holding, a Christmas present given to all employees at the cafe, falling into the snow. “Oh, I’m so sorry miss. Are you ok? I was just so distracted I didn’t see you there…” of course he saw you, he’s been following you for hours, but it wasn’t entirely a lie.

“It’s ok, don’t worry. I don’t even drink tea anyways…not like they would know that at my workplace, they don’t care enough for that…” the last part came out as nothing but a whisper but he heard it. He knows you’ve been struggling at work and most likely at home too, but of course he couldn’t really say anything about it.

“How about I buy you something you do like in exchange?”

“That’s not necessary really…today is Christmas Day I’m sure you have something better to do than buy a stranger a drink.” oh but there was nothing he’d rather do than to breathe the same air as you, this was already the best Christmas he’s ever had. Again, something he couldn’t tell you.

“Not really, I was going to go out with my school friends but they’re all busy so they cancelled it. Have nothing better to do. But if you do, I understand, I can give you the mon-“ you stopped his babbling before he continued, truth is, you were feeling very lonely and the thought of not going to your empty house this early was lovely. “I-I don’t…I don't have anything to do either…” your cheeks were tinging red and his liver was pounding in pain at your beauty, an odd feeling I may add.

“Then how about we go to that place over there? Seems designed for cute girls…I bet they have more than tea there.” his nonchalant attitude made his almost flirting banter so smooth it made you even more flustered so you just nodded and walked with him.

“You like chocolate right?” that startled you, was he some kind of stalker? He was, honestly, but you didn’t know that. The moment you saw his face it clicked in your head, that one customer that had to drink your hot cocoa just because you were too slow at closing that night.

“Oh! I knew you looked familiar! And yes, I do love chocolate.” your cute giggles were music to his ears, he was in love wasn’t he?

“Then lets go get some chocolate. Since that day I kinda became addicted to it too, you were right, you’re definitely a pro at making it.” being with him was making all the sadness and depressive thoughts from your head to go away in such an easy nonintrusive way it was amazing. Of course you had no idea you were doing even more than that for him by just existing in his own space.

“I’m glad you didn’t hate it…I was so nervous!”

His soft chuckles were so attractive, he was so attractive it was hard to think about how your boyfriend just broke up with you via phone call, on Christmas Day. This is just what you needed. “You should be proud, I’m a man that drinks bitter coffee all the time, and you turned me into a chocolover.” and your secret lover too, but that was better kept hidden for the time being.

The afternoon was fantastic after said encounter.

You went to that pink shop in the new district which was full with other high school girls giggling loudly. He got you a Christmas parfait which was hell more expensive than the stupid tea he dumped on the snow, but filled your heart with excitement.

Seeing you eating it like a child made his heart feel so full he almost forgot about killing the damn curse.

After a lovely stroll by the nearby park he took advantage of how cold you seemed to relive one of the many fantasies he had with you while also killing the curse at the same time, a win-win situation.

He took off half of his scarf and wrapped it around your neck, bringing you impossibly close to him, while you were all flustered and looking like a cute couple Christmas card, he was gathering the disgusting curse in his palm turning it into a little ball and saving it in his pocket. He did more than what he thought he was even allowed to dream of and all he could think about now was about kissing those soft rosy lips of yours. And by the look of you, you were thinking the very same thing. “You know…I was dumped today…I didn’t love him or anything so its fine…but don’t you think it might be you know like…” you sighed afraid of using the words that were hunting your thoughts. “Destiny?” his smug grin was making you shy again but he was right, that’s what you were thinking of, so you just nodded.

“Why were you dating him if you didn’t love him? If I may ask…” you two remained there by a decorated lamp post, wrapped in the warmth of his fuzzy scarf, nearly holding each other though not really touching just yet. “I was just lonely…”

His heart dropped, you were lonely just as he was. The realization that other people might be feeling similar to him, even if it was for different reasons, was oddly comforting.

“I can understand that feeling…But if you ask me, you’ll be better off without that bastard. Who makes a beautiful girl like you sad in Christmas day? I would smack him on the face if he was here..” he really did know how to make you smile, this was so comforting, for both of you, it was like your little heaven made out of snow and Christmas decorations.

“You’re too good to me, Geto-san…”

“Well you deserve that and more. That smile is way prettier than the frown you had when we met earlier. I would like to see it on your face again. If you’d like to see me again, that is…” he was crossing a line, one he couldn’t back off from. But it wasn’t like it was absolutely necessary for you to know he’s been secretly stalking you for weeks…right…?

“I slipped my phone number in the front pocket of your coat a couple of hours back…” and just like that, this year’s Christmas brought both of you a very unexpected gift.

The gift of hope, the gift of feeling understood and maybe, just maybe a bigger one, the gift of…true love.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu fanfic #jujutsu x reader #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto fluff #angst #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk fanfic #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n

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archivxx · 2 years ago

Text

I love my 🩻 anon so much for this.

Should of faxed it. {Kyle Broflovski x Reader}

✯ Genre: smut (reader is fem)(Kyle is aged up.)

✯ Relationship: unestablished, enemies.

✯ Style: One shot

✯ Context: you’ve been working in this law firm under Kyle as his assistant for longer than you can remember and it’s the most frustrating and draining job you’ve ever had.

Your legs were moving under you faster than you were aware of. At this point you may have even been running with the speed which things were going past you. You didn’t really care, if you were running then, despite the fool you were absolutely making of yourself, that’s fine. Good even. It’s probably what you needed really. You were running late. Extremely late. You needed to make it into the office as soon as possible, you could practically see your bosses face when you closed your eyes. He would not be impressed, that deep crease that occupied the space between his eyebrows sunk even deeper than usual.

There was no doubt that your boss was handsome, you even had some lingering feelings for him from when you started, however after three years of essentially being his “bitch” you had grown almost completely unattracted to him, almost, and you absolutely and wholly hated him, and he most definitely hated you too. Honestly, you were willing to argue about it for days on end, no person who respected you as a colleague would ever treat said colleague as though they’re a slave.

You burst through the glass doors of his office with his coffee mumbling an apology for the dramatic entrance and lowering your head in attempts to be less noticeable. You walked, or more so strode over to his desk in attempt to make the time you were in the room shorter, the faster you were out of there the faster you could forget about the mess that was this morning.

You placed the coffee down on the desk and turned to leave. You’d actually gotten out of the whole thing completely unscathed. You began to head for the door.

“Wait.” Shit fucker.

You slowly turned on your heel, “Can I help you, Kyle?”

“What time do you call this.” He got up from his seat and advanced towards you.

You stared at him for a long moment. What the fuck does he mean? You stared at him for a moment more, finding the right words, trying your best to not spit venom at him. “What the do you mean, “what time do you call this?” Do you realise,”—You wanted to stop, you really did but it was far too late now, he needed to hear this anyway—“the only reason I’m late is because I stood in line for almost an hour,” You began to raise your voice. “Because your picky ass can’t just have regular coffee like everyone else, noooo, you can’t because you’re Kyle Broflovski, you’re too good to drink regular coffee like other people, you have to have it done perfectly by a fucking barista that doesn’t get payed anywhere near enough to deal with shitty ass customers like you.” You took a deep breath in attempt to calm down, “So, if you must know, I’m late because of you.”

He stared at you. No, he more so bore into you. His eyes had gone dark, almost sinister. His mouth bobbed a few times. You almost cried, you couldn’t quite believe your eyes. For the first time ever, you’d rendered Kyle Broflovski completely speechless.

He was still glaring at you. You began to back up slightly, you felt like prey. With the way he was looking at you, you thought you might have actually turned into a piece of meat and Kyle was your predator.

You took in a sharp, painful breath about to apologise when Kyle took one long step towards you, almost a leap. Before you could move away from him and run for your life he had grabbed your hips and was kissing you.

You pushed him off with all your strength, with was enough you make him stumble. It was now your turn to glare, you waited for an answer.

“I’m sorry for my improperness, however, that speech right now…truly…something.” The tone of his voice was almost evil, you truly enjoyed it. Deep down you knew you wanted this. On a surface level, you knew you wanted this and it killed you to admit that you’d been thinking about thing since day one.

Not matter how much you hated Kyle that did not change the inevitable fact that he was absolutely sexy, a sexy that you had to train yourself to resist. A sexy that almost sent your silly when he would talk to you. He was sexy in a smouldering way, arguably the perfect kind of sexy.

The fact you knew you both wanted this for some odd and unexplainable reason made him all the more desirable.

It was your turn to “leap” at him. This time you actually did leap though, you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, making his way over to his desk.

When you got to his desk, he placed you down, not exactly gently. He trapped you between his hands on the desk continuing to kiss you, not once breaking for air.

When he finally did break for air, he stared at you, you could tell by the look on his face he wanted to ask for your consent without but completely unsure of the words to use. “I give you my consent, boss.” The nickname must have really helped him as his started to make quick work of removing your clothes, slipping your pencil skirt off and letting it pool on the floor and unbuttoning your shirt at a speed you’d never seen before from anyone unbuttoning a shirt, not even ripping a button off.

He began kissing your chest, not making any move to unclasp your bra. No, instead he made work of your pants, starting off by hooking his fingers in the hem of them. He peeled them off your at a painful slow speed compared to when he had been taking off your skirt.

He stared at you, his cold eyes lingering over you for longer than you had anticipated. He was raking you in, soaking up the sight, to like you were absolutely gorgeous but at the same time an absolute beast, you had a sharp tongue and a complimentary eye for mistakes. You had called him out many times and no matter how much it pissed him off he had wanted to fuck the hatred he had for you right out of him.

He waisted no time taking off his own clothes either, disposing of his own suit on the floor.

He somewhat forcefully grabbed your thighs and pushed them open. He lined up and before you had a chance to prepare your he pushed into you, knocking every thought out of your head. You let your head roll back.

He didn’t give you much time before he was moving, driving his hips forward with a power that, for such a small framed man, shocked you. You let a whimper fall past your lips, spreading your legs as far as you could, he was hitting all the perfect spots.

It did take very long for you both be become disheveled. Your orgasm was so near that you could practically feel it. Your knees were tingling and your core was tightening. Right when you were about to grab onto that hot white heat of release that you longed for, Kyle pulled out.

He pulled out. What the fuck was he pulling this time? What an asshole.

Then, before you could protest, he pried you off the desk making you stand, turned you around and bent your over the desk, not a single word leaving his lips. You couldn’t help but feel more attracted to him in that moment, your cheeks were burning and your core tightened more.

Before you could get any answers from him, he stuffed himself back inside you, returning to his previous speed. The new angle left your feeling starstruck. He was abusing all of the parts that he needed to.

A whimper landed on your back, the small sound tickled you. He placed a kiss against your shoulder blade continuing to pound you with passion, passion that you knew was duped by hatred. As much as you both wanted the, the idea of knocking each other down to their most vulnerable state drove you more towards it. The was no denying your hatred for one another however there was also no denying your attraction to one another.

You could practically hold your orgasm in your hand. It was so close. Mere inches away. You could feel the heat bubbling up inside you, and you could feel it in him too. He was close, you could tell by the way his drive had gotten higher, he’d become rougher with you. Sharp and harsh snaps of his hips, your skin clapping together.

A longer moan left your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. That sweet release you’d been waiting for. Kyle’s hips began to stutter. Then, long white ropes painted your inside, his hips coming to a holt. He teased his head on your back tickling you with his breath.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You couldn’t say much, in fact you couldn’t think much. When Kyle had finally regained his bearings, he pulled out, allowing his semen to ooze out of you, trying not to pay much attention too it. He redressed himself quickly while you came back to reality.

When you’d finally come back from your high, you pushed yourself off the table. You dressed yourself as quickly as your could and made your way towards the door.

“Hold on.” You turned on your heel feeling a slight sense of deja vu. “Don’t be late again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, boss.” Asshole. And with that you stormed out of his room, trying to best to not slam the door behind you. You head straight for your office.

Bye this is sooo bad💀

#south park #reader insert #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #smut

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bodybeyondstories · 10 months ago

Text

Just ignore it - 4

Lee and Armand try to get a handle on David's powers of suggestion before being interrupted by the delivery of yet another weird artifact. David goes for a bike ride to clear his head, only to end up complicating things further by causing some unexpected changes with some unexpected results.

1 | 2 | 3 (Previous) | 5 (Next)

MaleTF // Ass growth // Dick growth // Suggestion // nsfw

---

“You transformed Jamal? The new barista upstairs?” asked Lee.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” added Armand, arms crossed over his chest. “He’s already like nine feet tall or something.”

“Well yeah, he is now,” I said, exasperated by the disappointed parents routine I was getting back in the cleanroom. “But he wasn’t an hour ago. Or he was, in a different…timeline or whatever. Which is now this timeline. Or I was in a different timeline. Or the universe just sort of shifted or something, I don’t know.”

Jamal, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, was a possibly genetic, possibly magical anomaly who really did top out at just over nine feet. Why he insisted on keeping his barista job was even more of a mystery, but he was obviously a local attraction wherever he went, leading the coffee chain that managed multiple shops in town to rotate him around location to location, a boon to underperforming and under-trafficked franchises like the one in our building. The line was out the door whenever he was working, with people wanting a selfie, wanting to see him bumble behind the counter with surprising grace in spite of hands that made the espresso machine look like a toy, or just wanting a glimpse at the pipe running down his khakis that was conveniently around eye level and impossible to miss. If you were lucky, he liked you, and the timing was right, you could get an up close and personal experience. I was proud to say I was one of the lucky few ‘regulars,’ and in my recent metaphysically horny state, he had hit just the spot in one of the backrooms. Though it still, somehow, didn’t quite measure up to what Lee could throw down.

But now I was back in the evil snowglobe, feeling like I was facing punishment from sharing what I thought would be exciting new data.

“So, you just talked, and Synt followed suit?” asked Armand, jotting hurriedly into a notepad.

“Sort of? There was kind of a crescendo, maybe. Like Synt found a conduit through my vocal chords and we had to get into the groove. But I don’t think it’s automatic, like I couldn’t just say Armand grew–”

“Whoa whoa whoa, let’s slow down,” Armand cut in, hands splayed in caution. “Before you put a whammy on me, too.”

“I mean,” I gestured to his overstuffed crotch, “I kind of already did.”

“Oh! Oh wow,” Lee cut in, rubbing his chin as Armand stood speechless and gaped at his prodigious bulge. “But from your perspective, Armand, from both of our perspectives, it’s…”

“Always been that way,” Armand finished, cheeks reddening. “Or at least my entire adult life. It would make sense. I’ve never had a medical professional successfully explain my…condition. I just sort of got used to it, I guess. Or I was always used to it.”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands. “So we’re getting it now. It’s all about multiplicities of temporal perspectives. We’re all just cosmic threads weavin’ around each other.” I tried to visualize this with a rushed jumble of hand motions, which unfortunately didn’t land with the other two. “But I could probably fix it. I think. Maybe. I don’t think Synt would be on board for a reduction of any sort, so we may have to strategize.”

“No, there’s nothing to fix. I mean, it’s a lot to deal with, but I really am cool with it. My dating life is a mess anyways, and once you get known as that guy with the sixteen inch dick, the luster kind of wears off. I don’t really know what it's like being…normal.”

“The methods are messy to say the least,” said Lee, “but we may be starting to get somewhere. As much as we would love to keep investigating, further tests might have to wait. The park ranger guys are sending over some artifact they found and I think they’re due any minute.”

As if on cue, a nervous tap on the door reminded the three of us that as much as we would like to play around with my shiny new body morphing, reality shifting chaos magic we all had other work to do. I was getting up to take the back exit and head upstairs when I felt a tug in the direction of our visitor. My attention was pulled by some strong magnetic force toward the door as whoever was trying to enter awkwardly began pushing it open. Unconsciously, my foot steps shifted direction as the attraction felt stronger and deeper. And oddly familiar. Eventually, I recognized this feeling as Synt having their interest piqued enough to guide me to physically move in that direction. I was not a fan of this new development in our dynamic, but decided to see where it led.

“You need some help?” I offered, trying to play it off as me moving to give them a hand with the door rather than me being compelled for yet another mysterious reason.

“Nah, I’m good,” came a familiar voice, and as the door fully opened, I recognized Blake’s ass as it entered the room before the rest of him. “It’s just hard to maneuver this thing.”

It took me a second to realize he didn’t mean the globes of his ridiculous bubble butt, becoming the undeniable center of attention as he backed through the doorway, but actually the cart he was pulling with him. As the door swung back and he casually bounced it away with one hip, I couldn’t stop staring. I thought at this point I would be used to comically ballooning backsides, his most of all, but it looked even bigger than it had last night. In fact, as he entered the room the rest of him looked bigger too. If the seams of his pants and shirt sleeves had been strained beyond all reason last night, then now he was one strong sneeze away from public nudity. I thought maybe it was just the change of scenery, like how fitness influencers will take advantage of good lighting to show off a juicy pump, but I was pretty sure he was…bigger. Lee and I exchanged glances as if to wordlessly reassure each other that we weren’t just imagining that Blake was noticeably taller than he had been last night. The subtle accusatory squint of his eyelids was returned by a sharp look of denial from me. This wasn’t me, I thought. Unless, possibly it was. Maybe the growth last night had a slow release function, or some sort of chain reaction.

I mentally relayed Lee’s suspicious squint to Synt, who responded with a deep rumble of appreciation. They had a fixation on Blake, I now realized, and those two teaming up could be a disastrous combination.

“You want this in the uh, special circle?” Blake gestured to the circumference of sigils which were now glowing with an even higher brightness and frequency. That can’t be good, I thought.

“Yeah, that’s fine until we figure out what to do with it,” said Armand. “What is it, by the way? The report they sent in was kind of muddled. But then again, so is everything from the Marshlands.”

That place again. I was transported back to some spot on the map that I couldn’t identify, felt pushed out of space and time. Threads weaving, fraying, overlapping, forming fractal patterns down to quantum scales, building higher dimensional frameworks of cross-temporal superpositions, all coming together right there–

“...so we couldn’t really even tell how old it is, which is where we hoped you guys would come in,” Blake was saying. “Palmer, you got any tips?”

I snapped back to reality at the mention of my name. I had spaced out again, unclear for how long.

“I, uh, need to get back to my office,” I said. “I can look into it once I have the preliminary analysis from Lee and Armand.”

“You sure?” Blake asked, in that way that wasn’t so much a question but an unspoken invitation. I found my shoulders relaxing and my mind wandering. His easy smile was so intoxicating, but there was also a glint in his eyes. A hunger, as he seemed to casually look me up and down, almost as if he was seeing through me. Synt was laser focused on Blake, a low pressure system of gathering power causing the sigils to change color, which I didn’t even know they could do. He clapped a strong hand against my bicep (when had he gotten that close) and said, “Anyways, always good running into you. Let me know what you find.”

Again, I felt that electric thrill run from his body into mine, except it was more like neurons firing. I had more clarity than last night and I could feel a complex undercurrent beneath that hunger, a need for something more, a vision of something bigger. The dam was once again threatening to burst, but I now had solid control over my own legs and began briskly heading to the door with a terse “Yep, I’ll keep you posted.”

I practically sprinted back up to my office, terrified of accidentally touching anyone for fear of producing another ten foot freakshow in the building for the second time that morning. My mind was a whirlwind of my own ever present horniness, mixed with Synt’s unrelenting power, and their clear frustration at being taken away from their favorite willing subject. Blake was becoming their muse, in some weird way, and we both needed a pressure valve. But underneath Synt’s frustration was something else. My own itch of power and possibility and the knowledge that I could so easily scratch it.

I tried to be productive at my desk that morning. My muscles would clench periodically as I held in waves of Synt’s magic, my body and mind fatiguing in the face of an unstoppable force. Taunting me, Synt would dangle images of possibilities so close within reach. How easy it would be for Blake to expand into a wall of juicy muscle, having to turn his body to get his shoulders through the doorway but having his bubble butt get stuck anyways. Armand was already cool with having a monster cock, maybe he’d appreciate an even twenty inches. That’d look amazing. And would it hurt to give Jamal a few more inches in height? Maybe even a foot? I imagined him walking into my office growing steadily taller, head bumping against the ceiling then punching through as plaster rained down–

I slammed my palms firmly on the table and stared for as long as possible at a wall of unread emails, comprehending not a single one.

“I need to get some air.”

—

I took the stairs and headed to the bike rack around the back of the building. Walking around aimlessly felt too risky in the state I was in. Too much proximity, too many opportunities for accidental direct contact. I had felt like I could see into Blake’s soul when he grabbed my arm, like I could’ve granted his wildest, horniest fantasies with a thought. I shivered at the knowledge that Synt would co-sign exactly this brand of recklessness. I felt like I was burning with static. I could practically see it dancing along my skin. I was in no condition to be milling about in a crowd until I got around to relieving even a fraction of this pressure.

“David!” hailed a voice nearby as I was squeezing on my helmet. I looked over to see Noah, my former student who had been blessed (or cursed) by Synt in more ways than one. Not only did he end up with a set of hips and ass cheeks that comically ballooned from his otherwise thin frame, but had also fallen into a pattern of stumbling into bigger and bigger dicks around town. I reasoned that the man with him was likely his latest beau, due not just to the hand wrapped around Noah’s tight waist, but the snake smuggled into his right pant leg. The spell, apparently, had not yet been broken.

“Noah!” I responded, “looks like you’re doing as well as possible after this last semester.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This reminds me, I need to chat with you again about that…positive feedback loop I’ve been dealing with.”

“I can imagine,” I winked, pretending not to notice the twitch of his acquaintance’s massive bulge as he shifted his hand down to rest on Noah’s round booty. Was Noah just magically happening on these already huge dicks or was he unknowingly bending reality every time he set his eyes on a new crush? Was there an upper limit? To any of this? Much to investigate, I thought, but resolved to cut the conversation short before my imagination once again got the best of me. “Shoot me an email, I’ve got plenty of time this week,” I said, speeding off away from campus.

I hadn’t had time to change into my cycling gear, not that those lycra shorts did anything to mitigate the size of my ass. I had made peace with the fact that my bodacious buns were simply always on display, in this instance encased in a skirt and tights, the bike seat completely disappearing beneath them. There wasn’t much I could do about it, and honestly, I liked the attention.

I felt free weaving through the city streets, regardless of the fact that I was fighting for my life against late morning traffic. It was a welcome respite from the stifling air of my office, the wind cooling me down and alleviating at least some of the magical irritation covering my entire body. I didn’t know where I was going, and didn’t really care. Plus, I was moving too fast to focus on any one person for long enough to give them an impromptu BBL. Instead, the cityscape just felt like waves of passing static, tiny glimpses of people’s fantasies and desires that were gone as soon as they were detected, with the occasional ping of attention from a pair of eyes that had locked on to my bubble butt as it cruised through their field of vision.

For the length of a few city blocks, one of these pings of focus didn’t seem to leave me, and as I came up at a stoplight I turned around to see another cyclist flashing me an awkward and quickly thrown together smile of greeting, as if to insist that he hadn’t just been ogling me up and down.

“Can’t blame ya,” I said with a smile and nod, plus a wink for good measure. He was cute. He looked like he was a bike messenger by the rectangular pack balanced behind his shoulders, the well developed forearms and quads, and a look of practiced exertion that said he wasn’t just out here for the endorphins. I was sure he was perpetually in a hurry, so I figured I should literally get out of his lane while on my metaphysically horny break from work.

I meandered right as he continued straight, letting my eyes linger on his meaty calves just long enough to almost crash headlong into a sporty coupe in a mediocre attempt at parallel parking. I swerved out of the way as he honked and yelled “Dick!” just loud enough for me to hear through the half rolled down driver's side window.

What I said in response was not my wittiest comeback or even the most well thought out public interaction, but I had to offer a counter while still within earshot. But as I yelled “Super dick!” back at the finance bro emerging from his car, I immediately regretted the decision, feeling Synt’s power slip through the ether.

“You know I didn’t mean that!” I said aloud to the otherworldly being in my head. “You don’t understand epithets? Metaphors and what not?”

They sent the impression of a lazy shrug.

“What does super dick even mean? Like what did that do?”

Another shrug.

I was worried. What did I just accidently curse this guy with? Should I go investigate? What would that even mean? I thought maybe I could fix whatever it was. Use some string of words to undo whatever it is I just did.

I circled the block, parking my bike in front of the fancy building my unsuspecting victim had presumably been about to enter. It looked like it probably had moderate security and I had no plan of entry, and was definitely not dressed like I had any important business downtown. Entering through the big glass revolving doors, I locked eyes with the security desk, trying to look as casual as possible on my approach while they gave me a bored once over. In my performance of nonchalance, I glanced to the left and breathed a sigh of relief as I spotted my mark at the register of a lunch place on the bottom floor. With a curt smile to security, I changed direction, slipping into the line of the sandwich shop.

In the bustle of the lunch rush, I spotted him sitting on a stool at the bar along the window, drinking a green smoothie, scrolling on his phone, and pulling out a small laptop. I kept my eyes on him as the line progressed, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but he was the image of business class normalcy, perched on his stool in a designer suit and tapping away at some spreadsheet.

I picked up my sparkling green tea and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich (I actually was hungry) and found that one of the few available seats left was, luckily, right next to him.

Incredibly, he seemed to be unaware that I was the person who had almost taken off his side mirror with my right hip, studiously ignoring me as I ate my sandwich and glanced at my phone to see multiple texts from Lee. I opened the latest one but was interrupted by a grunt of discomfort from my new friend. He shifted in his seat and glanced briefly at me, his cheeks reddening slightly as he continued working. A few minutes later, another shift in position, chugging the rest of his smoothie before folding his hands into each other and resting his head against them. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he glanced around quickly and held himself in a tense position, trying to focus on his laptop screen.

When I was just about to return to whatever it was Lee felt the need to triple text about, he let out a heavy sigh as his breathing deepened, then glancing around again, carefully got up and turned towards me.

“Watch my stuff?” he asked tersely, the sheen of sweat on his face turning to visible beads.

That’s when I felt it. The now familiar resonant strum of reality warping magic that told me Synt’s power was at work.

“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled through bites of my sandwich, my eyes flitting down as I noticed a jump of movement along his pant leg.

“Thanks,” he grunted, turning to power walk to the bathroom, his bubble butt–which I didn’t remember being there before–swishing back and forth in his slacks.

I waited a solid twenty minutes–okay, more like fifteen–before following him to investigate further.

As I entered the bathroom, it was empty except for one occupied stall, the lemony scent of cleaning products overlaid with something musky and slightly metallic. There had been a soft moan coming from the occupied stall, which seemed to self-consciously quiet down in response to the sound of the door closing and my footsteps heading to one of the urinals. I did my business like normal as the moans slowly increased in intensity, interspersed with grunts and low utterances.

“Oof, fuck,” I heard a whisper, recognizing what little I had heard of the finance bro’s voice.

“Is everything okay in there?” I asked innocently with a light knock on the stall, knowing good and well some supernatural fuckery that I had personally caused was well underway.

“All good, I just–augghhhh!”

You’ll have to believe me when I say the stall door opened on its own.

My new friend was sitting on the toilet with his pants up and his fly open. He was breathing heavy and drenched in sweat, eyes widened in surprise as he saw me standing there, which shifted to a look of lust and urgent need as he drank me in. He seemed in visible distress, which probably had something to do with the rock hard dick that was reaching into the air just past his left shoulder.

“Sorry, I–” he was cut off as it seemed to jump up another inch, spurting a glob of precum that fell to the floor. His hands slid desperately up and down the length of his shaft, each one barely able to reach halfway around. With another spurt of pre, I noticed his fingers slightly pushed farther apart.

“It…it won’t stop until I…”

“Not my first rodeo,” I cut him off, entering the stall fully and closing the door behind me. “Do you mind if I help?” I asked, gesturing to his angry purple cockhead.

He nodded enthusiastically in relief and anticipation, his face contorting as another spasm hit.

Even with my repertoire of accidental and deliberate magical augmentations, I could only extend my jaw so far, struggling to make it several inches down his massive member, starting slow and building with intensity.

A little help here? I asked Synt, who responded with gusto, my mouth and throat suddenly seeming to defy the laws of physics as I eased farther and farther down the shaft. Finance bro was blissfully unaware of the pocket dimension that his dick had now fully disappeared into as his head lolled back in ecstasy.

“No one’s…been able to do this…in so long,” he muttered as his breath became erratic and he began involuntarily thrusting into me.

I worked my way diligently up and down, now moaning along with him in pleasure as I swallowed his impossible schlong. His whole body began to spasm with burgeoning orgasm, blasting several shots of jizz directly into my throat that I hungrily gulped, hoping whatever this pocket dimension situation was could also handle his huge load.

I pulled myself off his dick, his mushroom head emerging from my lips with a pop. But as his eyes rolled back and his breathing continued to crescendo, I realized he wasn’t done. Those had actually been the initial volleys to what turned into a geyser of cum, gushing uncontrollably against the wall for at least another thirty seconds, rope after rope splattering behind him as he tried desperately to bite back a primal scream that would have definitely alerted the rest of the establishment (and maybe even the offices above).

Finally, he spent his load, visibly exhausted. He leaned his head back as his dick began to mercifully deflate, landing softly on his face and leaving a trail of slime as it shrank to a much smaller, but massive by any other standards, flaccid state.

I heard a loud gurgle emanate from my belly full of jizz, along with a wave of disorientation that left me leaning against the wall for support. Noticing this, he came back to his senses, his blissed out grin fading into self-conscious clarity.

“This uh, happens sometimes,” he said, with an air of comically misplaced masculine professional decorum that was so out of place I may have actually laughed out loud.

“Sometimes?” I repeated, as he carefully maneuvered his donkey dick back into what looked like a specially made pouch running along his pant leg. My stomach gurgled again, louder this time, and the wave of disorientation came along with a full body spasm. I felt my muscles tensing and becoming denser with muscle as my body stretched against the fabric of my carefully fitted clothes, my ass expanding to press up against the door behind me. When I came back to my senses, I recognized the wave of disorientation as a sudden growth spurt, leaving me a couple inches taller. This might as well happen, I thought, taking note of how the top edge of the stall was now right at eye level. During my brief ordeal, finance bro had jumped up to support me with arms that were much stronger than they looked, a bold move seeing as I had already towered over him.

“...Yeah, no idea,” he said, as if referring to a WiFi outage and not a magnitude jumping jizz volcano baseball bat dick that also apparently had its own growth powers. “Hey, uh, text me sometime,” he added, then materialized a business card in his hand, and slipped it into my pocket. “You were amazing.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a jocular pat on my butt, then turned to stroll out of the bathroom like he hadn’t just painted the wall with cum.

Men. I managed to be exasperated in spite of being wildly horny, not to mention mildly worried about the magic mega wang that I had accidentally set loose on the city. Maybe I should follow up with him, just to fill him in on this whole situation, I thought. But it seems like he’s actually doing fine.

Mmhm, came a self-satisfied smirk from my companion.

I cleaned myself up as best I could, debating whether I should leave a tip with a note attached apologizing for the large puddle of jizz in the middle stall. As I looked myself over in the mirror, I noticed that while I had grown, it hadn’t been by that much in terms of basic physical metrics, but I seemed…more powerful. Like inherently I knew my musculature was much more capable than it looked–and it looked like I was verging on pro bodybuilder. “Super dick,” I mused, with a wry smile.

I came out to see my bathroom dalliance strolling coolly down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the window, heading back to the pretentious coupe that started all this. I tossed what was left of my lunch, walked out, grabbed my bike, and resolved to make it back to the office without incident.

—

Incident came ten minutes later as I pulled up to a stoplight and found myself parked behind my cyclist friend. Now it was my turn to fall into a trance at the sight of his toned, heart shaped bubble butt.

“Can’t blame ya,” he said with a wink.

And now it was my turn to blush as I was caught staring. My encounter with the finance bro had left me even more riled up with still no release, and I was losing any cool I thought I had.

“We’ve, uh, gotta stop meeting like this,” I said with a nervous chuckle as I caught his gaze.

“No, we can definitely keep meeting like this,” he retorted.

“Cute and confident,” I said. So it was a meet-cute. “Aren’t you at work right now?” I teased. “Or is the messenger bag just for show?”

“For you, I’m on break,” he said with a defiant smile.

“Oh so this is just your workout,” I replied, deciding to test the waters for a little fun. “You’re not skipping leg day apparently.”

“Look who’s talking!” he exclaimed with mock surprise. “You sure you’re not an Olympic cyclist with those yams?”

“Yams? It’s all aesthetic, you’ve definitely got me beat.”

And there it was. I felt Synt’s power slip out, my eyes widening in realization. How did I not catch that? I thought.

Time–the relative timespace of this conversation between me and my bike messenger crush–seemed to slow down and shift textures. Through Synt’s extrasensory abilities, I could again see timelines breaking, shifting, and reforming in the space around the cyclist’s lower half. His quads, hams, and glutes–especially glutes, I noticed–seemed to pixelate and come back together as they found the path of least resistance to match Synt’s interpretation of my command. I stared, awestruck, as his musculature seemed to inflate in real time as it moved through temporal lenses, his cargo pants adjusting along with the growing shelf of ass overtaking his bike seat, until suddenly they were replaced with lycra, stretched tight across a colossal booty. Still the same heart shaped ass, just scaled up and disproportionately juicy on top of some serious hamstrings.

“Haha, guess so,” he said, with the air of someone used to people staring blankly at his huge cakes. “Honestly, I thought this bike gig would slim me down some, but it just seemed to make things worse.” He patted one round cheek, sending a jiggle through his lycra shorts that could stop traffic.

The light changed, signaling that the meet-cute was drawing to a close.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said. “Name’s Devon.”

“Uh, David,” I responded, as he kicked off and cruised through the green light. I stood entranced by the ass I had just magically inflated, before I got myself together and headed off in a different direction back towards my office.

You know I didn’t mean that, I said to Synt, who didn’t seem to care.

---

I did feel somewhat relieved as I jogged up the stairs of my building, yet still in persistent need of some sort of relief. Finding the door slightly open, I was pleasantly surprised to find just the person who could tide me over.

“Lee!” I exclaimed. “Thank god you’re here. You down for a quickie?”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he responded. “But, I mean, yeah,” he followed up, long dick jumping down his pant leg in anticipation. Lee lounged against my desk, his lithe body posted up casually as he flipped through some book that he had happened to grab off the shelf, probably bored waiting for my return. Instead of the usual easy smile with an undercurrent of indulgent lust, he looked all business, like he had an important message. “Did you get my emails? My texts?” he asked. “We had some…interesting preliminary findings from the artifact that Blake brought in. Wait, are you taller?”

“Interesting how?” I asked, stripping off my leggings before remembering to kick the door closed behind me. “And yes, I’ll fill you in on the latest.”

He shut the book, leveling a look of tentative excitement in my direction, briefly obscured as he whipped his shirt off. “We need to go do some fieldwork.”

#male tf #ass growth #butt growth #dick growth #Just Ignore It

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enidsinclajr · 7 months ago

Text

here are the fics sitting in my drafts (and by drafts, i mean outlines and ideas that are collecting dust for most of these. some of these have a decent amount written tho hehe)

bookstore au - enid works in this giant 24 hour bookstore where wednesday is a regular who comes to read all the time and so enid leaves her notes in books. yoko is a barista at the attached cafe lol (working on this one - it's like halfway done)

band au - enid's in a band and wednesday is a writer who writes an article on them. enid goes on tour and they start talking through emails/texts while enid is on the road

teen wolf au - popular girl enid gets bit by a werewolf and the only person who can help her is wednesday

other teen wolf-ish au - follows the show except no laurel/crackstone and enid doesn't wolf out. because she can't wolf out, something like the nogitsune possesses her and we get an evil/dark enid

begin again au (suggested by a commenter) - enid meets wednesday in a cafe post ajax breakup (ALMOST DONE WITH THIS ONE)

high school au (non like, supernatural or whatever) - where enid is the popular kid who is forced to work with weird, loner wednesday after her senior year goes up in flames

detective/fbi au - fbi agent enid is sent to the small town of jericho to investigate a serial killer, and her number one suspect might be detective wednesday addams

white streak in wednesday's hair au - idk what to call this but basically wednesday gets this white streak in her hair from goody. she asks enid for help to get it out and it's just fluff LOL

pizza delivery driver au - where enid is the only pizza delivery driver brave enough to deliver to the addams residence. then her car breaks down or something LOL

they both die at the end au - based off of the book it's obvious what happens to them but the buildup of them getting to know each other one night would be great and i feel like the two of them would slot into this universe well with their opposite opinions on dying/how they cope with it

infinity train au - if you haven't seen this show HIGHLY recommend. basically people get trapped on an otherworldly train and the only way to get off is to make the number they get assigned go to down to zero, which usually involves going on some journey about growing as a person. SO much potential here for the two of them working on themselves, you could have them arrive together or meet on the train, etc. it would be sooo dope

wednesday addams guide to living with a werewolf - a bunch of random out of order one shots kinda case file style of things wednesday learns about enid being a werewolf. it's just a bunch of fluff with werewolf lore because i love werewolves lol

#one day these will see the light of day...#can you tell i love AUs ???#literally all i write bc i hate being constrained by canon #and putting my faves in other universes lol #wenclair #wednesday #au

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ask-barista-kickin-chicken · 8 months ago

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.ೃ Barista!KickinChicken Data ࿐

Full Body & Mini Form

Name: Kickin 'Star' Chicken

Nickname: Barista, Kickin or Star

Age: Doesn't age but Barista think he is 26 years old

Birthday: Can't remember...

Gender/Pronouns: Genderfluid Male (He/Him/They)

Height: 6' 3.5" ft/191 cm

Sexuality: Pansexual

Dating Status: Used to be dating CraftyCorn but now is single

Role: Barista and a Cafe Owner... it's what Kickin think for now

Fear: Arachnophobia (Fear of Spider) and Nyctophobia (Fear of Darkness)

Likes: His sunglasses, His skate, Respectful and nice customers, Kittens, Playing makeover, The drinks and foods that he created, Singing and Surfing...

Dislike: A rude customers, Intruders, Spiders, The darkness, Evil version of himself and his friends and Remembering about the past

What the Cafe look like

[Sorry if the art look bad, this my first time drawing a building :')]

The Cafe is a 2 story house with a few plants decorated in the entrance of the Cafe; in the inside of the cafe would be like any casual cafes but there would be a smell of coffee mixed Ylang-Ylang. There's also a few posters of something that is encouraging or calming poster, there's also a poster of Barista doing a welcoming for whoever stumbled into the cafe.

On the second floor, it's where Barista is living! The second floor would have a bedroom, a small living room and lastly a bathroom! The inside of the Cafe is color in orange, yellow and pastel orange themed!

Barista!KickinChicken Backstory

KickinChicken was just like the original KickinChicken, living his best life in the colorful and beautiful world (the cartoon version but it's not completely cartoon) he was in the Smiling Critters group and befriending the other critters; DogDay, CatNap, Bubba Bubbaphant, CraftyCorn, Bobby BearHug, Hoppy Hopscotch and lastly PickyPiggy!

He also become CraftyCorn lover, have fallen inlove with the shy but caring unicorn and the person who have help him whenever he feel anxious or self-hating. Well, that was until his world suddenly destroyed, Kickin didn't remember much but he remember of how everything around him started falling down or dissapearing, even his friends... he still remember the sound of screaming coming from his friends, especially his lover.

After he wake up (yes, he fall unconscious when that happen), Kickin found himself in a place where there was nothing but white; there was no grass, no dirt or anything! Is like a blank space, Kickin would call it 'White Void'. In a place that was so unfamiliar and knowing his world is gone, Kickin have fallen into depression even crying of why he's also not being destroy like the others.

Until his star pendant started glowing, something that is unusual from the pendant that was given by CraftyCorn. When the pendant started to glow more brighter, Kickin could feel himself started changing! His body would started to grow taller and a bit bigger than his usual size, his hair/feathers getting a bit longer and a barista uniform would appear aswell!

After that transformation, Kickin have more questions running through his head and when he turn his head, he would spotted a 2-story houses or a Cafe appear out of nowhere and standing infront of him. At first, Kickin was unsure and scare until he slowly stepped inside and when he did, he could feel himself connected with the Cafe... as if he was belong in this Cafe and not only that, there was something telling him in the back of his head that his new role now... was to become a Barista and The Cafe Owner of the 'Kickin Star ☆ Cafe'

Kickin was a bit hesitated at first but he slowly accepted his fate and becoming a Barista and a Cafe Owner. His role was to help the lost traveler that got lost when traveling AU's or to help someone that needed to relax or to talk to. His cafe would only appear when someone needed to relax or wanting to sooth worries but sometime there are a few times where someone stumbled into the cafe without the Cafe coming over to them.

[And that is all, hope you understand about Barista!KickinChicken AU :D]

#kickinchicken #barista!au #smiling critters #smiling critters au #barista!au backstory #barista!au canon #my art

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pretty-purple-pages · 8 months ago

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𝓒 𝓗 𝓐 𝓟 𝓣 𝓔 𝓡 𝓞 𝓝 𝓔

synopsis: percy meets his crush and leaves a weird first impression

pairing: percy x annabeth (percy jackson and the olympians)

content: highschool!au, mortal!au, coffeeshop!au, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, annabeth's family is shit

word count: 1144

Percy Jackson was special. In a bad way. The type of special having a single mother, absent father, an abusive ex step-father, ADHD, dyslexia and a bad school record made you.

Percy Jackson was normal. He had a loving mother and a step-father who had been there for him more than his biological father. He had amazing friends, who supported him through his hard times. He was trying his best to become a psychologist for children; to help little kids not have the nightmares he had everyday. He considered himself a normal high-schooler.

He also had a huge crush on the barista at the local coffee shop

Annabeth Chase was special. In a bad way. The type of special having a neglectful father, non-existent mother, an ‘evil’ step-mother , ADHD, dyslexia and running away from your own house at the mere age of 7 made you.

Annabeth Chase was normal. She had found her family; a girl named Thalia, who had taken the place of being her big sister and simultaneously her best friend. Thalia had practically raised her; taught her everything her mother was supposed to. Luke was her protector, not that she needed one obviously, but he was her guide. The one she turned to when things got a little hard. She worked harder and harder everyday. She wanted to become an architect because she never had something permanent for herself so she wanted to design something that would stay.

She was also the barista at the local coffee shop. The cafe of love; cafe d’amour

Not her dream job; just something part time to pay her rent and feed her stomach. Her scholarship covered the tuition fee; not anything else. She had to work for it.

“ORDER NUMBER 31, KINDLY PICK UP YOUR ORDER,” her voice rang loud and clear in the small coffee shop, at the corner of the street. It was a monday morning, and mondays were always the busiest.

“Hi- uh- its- uh- it’s my order,” a boy with tousled raven hair stuttered out, “Um uh- I am Percy. Uh- you must know me, I study in your school. We have one class together. Where you sit at the back. Uh, when some girl dropped coffee on your shirt, I was the one who gave you tissues.” he spoke proudly, like a puppy waiting for praise.

Percy Jackson. That name struck no significant memory in her brain, except she vaguely remembered some boy who tripped and fell face flat on the ground because he was busy staring. At her. He looked no older than 17 and he wore a blue hoodie that said ‘fish lives matter’ and black joggers. His face was flushed and he kept stuttering. A lot.

“I don’t know you,” she muttered flatly, mostly out of annoyance, “And that will be $18.34 dollars. Cash or card?,” the boy was still zoned and flustered, “Please collect your order and move ahead; there are customers waiting behind you.”

He cursed and mumbled a quick apology and made the payment.

This boy was weird. In fact, this whole interaction was weird.

Percy Jackson had one class together with the (slightly rude but cute) barista, Annabeth Chase (he found out her name from her work badge): Algebra. Percy hated maths in general, but algebra and statistics were the required courses in order to pursue his dream. Also he got to see the smart blonde who had his heart.

He was currently trying not to zone out in class. The teacher was babbling about her life or something, he didn’t care. He tried not to focus on one thing: There was no sign of Annabeth Chase.

Usually she sat at the back of the class, playing sims or minecraft, but could still answer anything the teacher asked. She’d often argue with the teacher, but from what Percy heard, she would be extremely enthusiastic in classes she loved. In short, she made her presence known; and today she was nowhere to be found.

Percy always chose the far seat, at the back of the cafeteria. Nobody bothered him, that’s how he liked it. Hazel and Frank were on leave that day, probably doing something cutesy or their couples thingy. His best friend, Grover, was nowhere to be seen. Or Percy spoke too soon.

“HEY MAN,” Grover said with too much enthusiasm for Percy’s liking, ‘patting’ his back so hard that Percy’s face was shoved into his food. Grover was a 5'7 guy with an obsession with plants and animals. He was the person who’d ditch his plans to go on a nature protest.

“Hey,” Percy replied with the opposite level of enthusiasm, “Have you seen Annabeth? She wasn’t in class today.”

As if on cue, the said blonde walked into the cafeteria, heading to their table. Percy was awestruck; his brain unable to form coherent sentences. Although she seemed very distressed. And her eyes and nose were red. It took Percy less than a second to put two and two together; Annabeth was crying and probably had a panic attack.

“Hey Grover, about the nature trail plan we made, we’re rescheduling it. Something came up with my family.” she sniffled and Grover nodded like he understood. She flashed Percy a look of recognition, probably from their awkward encounter at the coffee shop. Percy had never blushed harder in his life; due to embarrassment of course.

“So, you call yourself my best friend, yet you didn’t tell me you were going on a nature trail with my crush?!” Percy confronted Grover as soon as Annabeth was gone, trying to make his voice deep to sound scary. He failed terribly.

“I uh- I was going to tell-” Percy didn’t let him finish.

“And you never told me that you were that close to her where you go on trips,” Percy held his heart to mock being hurt. Grover took it seriously.

“Didn’t think you’d be that head over heels,” Grover grumbled and picked at his food,

“Also I couldn’t bring you on the trip; I actually was going to, but after your very weird encounter. Dude you actually sounded obsessed.”

Percy wanted to turn time back and erase that encounter.

Annabeth tried to be the best at everything she did; whether it was calculus or coffee making. Validation had never been given to her by her parents, so she craved it desperately. She volunteered at places, did extra-credit in her favourite classes and tried to be the best. She needed to be. She never had a competitor; she took them down as soon as they appeared. Annabeth Chase never gave up.

So on a slow Thursday morning, she didn’t expect a newbie to appear. Especially not the weird boy from before. And she definitely didn’t want to be the one to train him.

“Hey, I’m Percy Jackson. It’s my first day here.”

tags: @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @loife1m @moondust-on-the-hijabi @summersblossoms @hijabi-desi-bookworm

credit for the dividers: @saradika-graphics

#mini writes—◈#percabeth #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #orginal story #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writerscommunity #percy and annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #percy pjo #percy series #perseus jackson #annabeth pjo #annabeth

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porcelainseashore · 2 months ago

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Coffee & Secrets (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to @pickonerain! You've been an absolute star to me and seeing as you love Sherry, here's her little addition to the story 😇

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Divergence

It was not like Claire and Leon to hide from you, but somehow they had ended up right at the other end of the room, far away from the counter, out of sight. They seemed deep in conversation, their expressions grim, and Leon was gripping his porcelain cup so tight you were afraid it would shatter to bits in his hand.

Curiosity—or rather, nosiness—got the better of you, and you scooted closer to the couple, pretending to sweep the area so you could listen in more easily.

“This was why you wanted to meet me, Claire?”

“Isn’t it important enough? I don’t get why you’re being so defensive!”

“I thought you wanted to catch up over coffee, not use me for one of your schemes!”

“Use you? Are you even listening to yourself? How does bringing down that son of a bitch count as ‘using you’?

“Chief Irons probably had a good reason, and all these rumors—”

“Rumors? There’s cold, hard evidence! We just need that one missing piece—”

“No! Forget it.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“So, this is it, huh? You go your way, and I go mine?”

“I…”

“I’m embarrassed I even called you a friend.”

Kicking out her chair, Claire threw down a couple of bills on the table before storming out in a fit of rage, slamming the front door behind her.

Before you could even react, Leon had beaten you to it. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, though he had ducked his face away, red with shame. “I know you heard everything. You weren’t exactly being very stealthy.”

“That was never really my strong suit,” you admitted. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” he said, motioning to the seat beside him, still unable to look you in the eye.

Spying his half-finished drink on the table, now cold, you resisted the urge to get up and fix it, knowing there were other things he needed more in that moment. So, you continued to sit with him, and even though you did not exchange any words, you breathed together, content with sharing in each other’s company until he was ready to speak.

“Do you think I’m naive?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Maybe I’m scared that I am,” he confessed, his voice small and tired. “What if I’m wrong? What if Claire’s wrong?”

Cradling his cheek in your hand, you caressed it softly. He didn’t protest, but leaned in indulgently, nuzzling his nose against your palm like a deer. Then, something clicked internally and he broke away, straightening up in his seat as though he had not just given in to his desires a moment ago. However, this time, his face was angled towards you, waiting.

“What does your gut feeling say?” you put forward. “I’d trust that.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath as he stared off into the distance, gathering his thoughts. “A snake oil salesman—that’s one way of putting it.”

“Chief Irons,” he clarified. “Whenever I get close to something nasty, he throws me off scent.”

Another hunter—a more seasoned one, you observed.

“I guess you have your answer.”

He collapsed into the backrest of the armchair and exhaled, as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I’ll figure it out,” he stated, mostly to himself.

“I know you will,” you said encouragingly.

He had chosen the more difficult path, but at least he had made peace with it and was no longer in denial about Chief Irons’ deception. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Once again, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It felt nice like this, as though your very thoughts and beings were connected.

“I want to know more about you,” he professed out of the blue. “But somehow, you always manage to steer the conversation back to me.”

You gulped, fiddling with your hands. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he murmured. “Your backstory, your favorite color, what do you do outside of work…” he trailed off.

“I’m not used to talking about myself,” you spelled out.

He grinned cheekily, as if the battle had already been won. “Don’t worry, I’m a good listener.”

And so, you yielded to him, letting things unfold as they should. Hours passed while you shared tales and secrets over cups of spiced tea with sweet milk. The flavors of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg swirled around your tongue, bringing to mind the warm, inviting breeze of a coastal town near the Red Sea.

“There’s many names for it,” you explained, circling the rim of the cup with your finger lazily. “But I know it as Shai Adeni.”

Leon nestled his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the table as he gazed at you, captivated. “Incredible.”

“Hmm?” You were not sure if he had registered what you had just said.

Reaching out, he cupped the back of your neck, pulling you close. His heated breath moist against your flushed skin, and the scent of his cologne was dizzying. “You’re—”

The door chime jingled.

Both of you jolted, separating yourselves away from each other in a flash, as your eyes fell upon a little girl standing shyly by the entrance. She was dressed in a school uniform, her hair neatly swept back with a headband into a braided bun.

“Hey there,” you greeted, brushing your hands against your apron as you stood up, shuffling past Leon towards her. “Would you like something to drink?”

At this, she nodded enthusiastically, following you to the counter to grab a seat. As you infused white chocolate into milk with a good dollop of citrus, you exchanged looks with Leon, who held the same concerns as you.

Sliding over another high chair adjacent to hers, he gently opened with, “Hey, I’m Leon. You got a name, pumpkin?”

She wrinkled her nose and grimaced at the nickname. “Sherry,” she replied timidly.

“Nice to meet you, Sherry,” Leon said, shaking hands before he continued, “So, it’s really late, huh? Do your parents know where you are?”

She twiddled her thumbs, swinging her dangling legs back and forth on the chair. “They don’t care,” she said finally. “They’re busy.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They work at Umbrella. They’re making important new medicine,” she revealed proudly.

“Sounds like a tough job,” Leon empathized.

After sprinkling the glittery icing sugar on her drink, you set it before her with a flourish. “Voilà, your Yuzu Meringue, Miss Sherry.”

She giggled at your performance and slurped down the foamy surface. “Mmm!”

“Good, huh?” Leon gave her a side smile.

“Tell you what, Sherry,” you began, “when you finish your drink, my friend Leon here will take you home, okay?”

Her nose was dusted with powder and the cup was still covering half of her face as her eyes darted towards the man.

“He’s a good cop, you’ll be safe with him,” you reassured her.

Scribbling down your shop’s telephone number on a piece of scrap paper, you handed it to her. “Keep this, you can call me anytime you need to.”

Taking it, she pursed her lips and nodded reluctantly as she stuffed it away into her pocket. “Can I—” she paused, “can I come here whenever I want? You and Leon are nice.”

A pang of loneliness hit you. You sensed it from the tone of her voice and what was left unsaid. It didn’t seem like she had many friends and you wondered about it.

“Please?” she begged, interrupting your thoughts.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you!” she squealed, running over to give you a quick hug before taking Leon by the hand.

Turning to you, a rosy hue spread across his face as he smiled meekly. “So… uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, as usual, Leon.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #coffee shop au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #fic: coffee & secrets #porcelainscribbles

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ash-and-books · 6 months ago

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Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

In this sly and dazzling contemporary fantasy, the most notorious nine-tailed fox in Korea pairs up with a trickster god–turned–detective to track down a wrathful demon . . . before it can destroy the mortal world.

“Enchanting fantasy . . . With an intoxicating mix of action, mystery, and deliciously angsty romance, this reads like the most bingeable K-drama.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Kim Hani has retired from a life of devouring souls. She is, simply put, too full. Once known as the infamous Scarlet Fox, she now spends her days working in a coffee shop and annoying a particularly irritating, if unfairly handsome, trickster god as often as she can.

That god is Seokga the Fallen. Exiled from the heavenly kingdom of Okhwang, he now begrudgingly resides in the mortal realm, working toward his redemption and suffering through his interactions with the particularly infuriating, if sneakily charming, gumiho barista at his favorite café.

But when a powerful demon escapes from the underworld and threatens to end all of humanity, Okhwang’s emperor offers Seokga an enticing bargain: Kill this rogue creature, as well as the legendary and elusive Scarlet Fox, and he will be reinstated as a god. Hani, however, has no intention of being caught. Seokga might be a trickster god, but she has a trick of her own that he’ll never see coming: teaming up. As Seokga’s assistant, Hani will undermine and sabotage his investigation right under his overly pointy nose. Sure, she’ll help him kill the demon, but she certainly won’t allow him to uncover her secret identity while they’re at it.

As the bickering partners track their case down a path of mayhem and violence, the god and the gumiho find themselves inescapably drawn to each other. But will the unlikely couple stand together to prevent the apocalypse, or will they let their secrets tear them—and the world—apart?

Review:

A fallen god turned detective, who is desperate to regain his powers... and the only way to do so is to hunt down and kill the infamous Scarlet Fox and a powerful demon that has escaped from the underworld... the only problem? Said Scarlett Fox is actually is actually his new assistant and she'll do anything to make sure he never finds her... yet being together for so long despite their dislike for one another... something else begins to grow between these unlikely too... but can it last with a demon on the loose and secrets between the two people who normally would only care about their own needs? Kim Hani was the Scarlet Fox, a famous gumiho who consumed thousands of souls and got away with it.... and now she works in a cafe, despite hating coffee, and her greatest joy is ruining a very grumpy god's coffee order every single time she see's his arrogant, smug, and cold face. Seokga the Fallen, he was a trickster god before he staged a coup against his brother and was banished... and now the only way to get back his godly powers is to kill thousands of demons... and working as a detective has definitely helped. Seokga hates everything about earth, the only thing he actually likes is it's coffee, yet his barista, a certain snarky, rude, and gets under his skin gumiho refuses to make him a good coffee. Seokga is nowhere near the number of monsters he needs to get rid of to get his powers back, so when his brother offers him a deal: capture and kill both the famous Scarlet fox that has come back, and a new powerful demon that has escaped the underworld in 16 days and his powers will be reinstated. Seokga takes the deal, but the only way he'll actually accomplish it is with the help of his new assistant... who turns out to be Hani. Hani is determined to thwart Seokga from ever finding her true identity, and if it means working as his assistant and throwing his case, she'll do it. Despite how much they both get under each other's skin, they both know they have to stop the evil demon on the loose before it brings about the apocalypse and destroy everything. The more time they spend together the more they begin to realize that what they use to find annoying about each other might actually have been them realizing that they are completely perfect for one another... yet Hani is still hiding her secrets and how can she expect to tell Seokga the truth if he is going to sacrifice her for his own powers... or will he ? Can they survive both the demon and each other? This book was the PERFECT mixture of kdrama, romance, adventure, and everything I could ever want. SOMEONE MAKE THIS INTO A KDRAMA NOW PLEASE. I adored Hani and Seokga so much, they both irritate and tease each other, yet care so much for one another. The moment they realize they like it each other, it was absolute perfection. The book has a bit of an open ending and I WOULD LOVE A BOOK 2 PLEASE. I AM DESPERATE FOR MORE HANI AND SEOKGA PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. I had a blast with this book and absolutely devoured it, I could not put it down at all. It's the ultimate grumpy x sunshine read, Seokga is a trickster but cold and grumpy while Hani is a mischievous trickers who is sunshine and smiles. They both are so much fun as characters and this book just perfectly captures the magic of kdramas and mythology and romance. Seriously, you need this book!

*SPOILERS: The demon reveals the truth and Hani dies trying to kill it. she makes a bargain with Seokga's brother before she dies: if Seokga kills her or the demon he'll get half his powers back for each one. Hani sacrifices herself and has Seokga stab her so he can get his powers back and kill the demon, he does but he mourns Hani. He admits that he knew all along and would never have hurt her. Seokga is a god again but he begs his brother for a new bargain, to have Hani reincarnated, he doesn't care what he has to give up to have her back. His brother agrees, in exchange for Hani being reincarnated Seokga must remain loyal (no more coups) or the bargain is over. He tells him Hani could be reincarnated any day and that he has to wait. In 2018 he finally sees the red thread of fate on his finger and he begins to follow it towards Hani.

Release Date: June 4, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine | Del Rey for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #book #the god and the gumiho #threads of fate

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