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rinneverse · 6 months

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࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! — 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊 𝒚𝒖𝒖𝒋𝒊. ˒ ⊹

me and my roommate get drunk one night and end up fucking!!!! oh my god, this is so awkward…

୨ৎ syn. it’s your final year of uni—after midterms come to a close, you decide to celebrate by getting absolutely SMASHED with your roommate, itadori yuuji. much to your chagrin, this decision comes with a boatload of consequences. how do you navigate the awkward morning after with your golden retriever of a roommate!? (4.8k)

୨ৎ pairing. itadori yuuji x f!reader

୨ৎ cw. modern au, fem!reader, both yuuji and reader are in their final year of uni and are implied to be 21+, alcohol mentions, drunk sex, dubious consent (read prev warning), pet names used (baby, pretty, angel), oral (f!receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, dealing w/ the repercussions of fucking your roommate the morning after (but it ended up alot more fluffier and romantic than i intended because i love him), minors + ageless blogs dni! 18+ content under the cut!!

୨ৎ love, oak! oh christ almighty. i like itadori yuuji a normal amount. i just really really think he'd make the perfect boyfriend ever. first time writing for him so hoping and praying he isn’t incredibly ooc but regardless,, hope u guys like this i wrote it with my entire clit :3 crossposted to ao3 here!

[ main m.list! ┊coming soon... ]

“Yuu~ji!”

Your lilting voice carries through the shared living space of your apartment. Shuffling in through the entryway, the door clicks shut behind you as you peer around the corner of the entrance hallway.

“You there? Yu?”

You hear a muted groan come from the couch in response.

Toeing off your shoes with a giggle and setting them onto the shoe-rack (the same shoe-rack you constantly have to pester Yuuji about—”Yu, don’t just leave your shoes on the floor! The rack is right there!”—every other day), you peek over the back of the fluffy couch in the living area and find Yuuji sprawled on his stomach over it, face shoved in a pillow.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Like I’m dying,” comes his muffled reply.

You reach a hand down to tousle his already messy bubblegum pink hair. He weakly bats a hand at you.

“Surely you can live a little longer for a night out with your favorite roommate?”

With a grunt, Yuuji flips over, lying on his back. He blinks once, twice. Then he grins; that familiar, radiant grin that makes your heart speed up a little in your chest. You can feel your own smile widen in response.

“I think I can do that,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head at you. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again though, are you?”

Your eyes narrow slightly in challenge. Bringing your face closer to his by leaning over the couch, you reply snarkily, “and you’re not gonna force me to shoulder you the whole way home again, are you?”

Yuuji’s eyes widen at the new proximity, a faint rosiness rising to his cheeks that makes you giddy. His throat bobs before he replies, “No, promise I won’t.”

You think you see his eyes flick down momentarily—towards the swell of your chest, exposed by the low-cut top you had chosen to wear today—causing a smug sense of satisfaction to pool in your tummy. You lean further, the urge to be a tease winning out over your usual sense: over the notion that you shouldn’t be flirting with the guy you live with. It's entirely a bad idea (and yet here you are, doing it anyways).

Yuuji’s lips part slightly; when he meets your gaze again, there’s hunger shining in his big brown eyes, hazy and diluted by conflict. You can see the inner strife going on in his head already: he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his roommate. He shouldn’t be a perv.

You shouldn’t be feeling this way about him either, but you just can’t help yourself. Something about the way he’s looking at you fills you with a streak of confidence that throws all common sense out of the window.

“Good. Be ready at 7?” Your tone has noticeably lowered, nearly a purr even as you smile innocently down at him.

Yuuji swallows again, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Sure—okay. Sounds good!” He babbles nervously.

It’s cute. He’s cute.

“Cool. ‘m gonna get a nap in then.”

He nods his head slowly. The tension hovers in the air between you, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, ever so slowly, you straighten, watching as his eyes never leave your form. You bite your lip and offer Yuuji a softer smile before you turn on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.

You can feel the way his eyes bore holes into your back as you walk away, skirt swishing with every step. You purposefully sway your hips a little more despite yourself and you think you hear him choke slightly, a sound that makes you feel much more smug than it realistically should.

As you close the door to your bedroom, the only thing on your mind isn’t how tired you are from dealing with midterms—it’s how Yuuji looked at you just moments ago, eyes gleaming with raw want, like you were a five star meal served on a silver platter. You clutch your chest as you flop onto your bed.

There’s always been an underlying tension between you and Yuuji. It used to be easier to ignore, something left tucked away in the corners of your mind, leaving you to instead settle for an easy friendship. Something that doesn’t complicate things, especially since you live together. There’s no avoiding any awkward encounters should either of you decide to take that step.

But lately, things have been coming to a boiling point. You’re not sure if it’s the stress of your final year of uni dawning upon you or if its just years of tension finally being pulled taut enough to snap—whatever it is, it has muddled your senses enough to find flirting with Yuuji fun instead of something forbidden. It has you pushing boundaries you never thought you would push with him before.

Oh, well. If there was any time for things to make some bad decisions and get a little complicated with your incredibly handsome roommate, your last year of uni might just be perfect. Screw the consequences.

“Yuu,” you moan, drunkenly stumbling into a wall of muscle.

Thankfully, that wall of muscle happens to be Itadori Yuuji. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, a hiccup bubbling from his lips as he grins down at you.

“Hey there,” Yuuji laughs. “You okay?”

“Yeeeeaaahhh,” you slur. “Are we home yet?”

“Almost there. Hang on a little bit more for me, okay?”

The night air is crisp and cooling against your balmy skin, a welcome relief after spending hours in a bar packed with sweaty bodies and bass thrumming through your veins. It’s breezy, fallen leaves rustling across the ground as the wind scatters them along the sidewalk. A particularly stronger gust has you pressing closer to Yuuji, your little top and skirt doing little to protect you against the autumnal weather.

Yuuji pauses, making sure you’re steady before he shrugs off his jacket.

“Here, put this on,” he says, gently maneuvering your arms into the warm sleeves. His cologne wraps around you in its embrace, warm and musky and tinged just a little bit with alcohol. You smile.

Megumi and Nobara have already made their separate ways home, the former grabbing an uber while Nobara hitched a ride home with Maki. You can’t help the way you giggle and stumble as Yuuji ushers you forward again. “Nobaraaa’s gonna geeet iiiiit,” you snicker, latching onto the hard muscle of Yuuji’s bicep to steady yourself. “Did you see the way Maki w’s lookin’ at her? I wish someone looked at me that way.”

Yuuji is probably about equally as blasted as you are (you went shot for shot, after all), but he manages to carry himself in a more sober manner than you. He lets you latch onto him like a koala as he guides you through the doors of your apartment building.

He’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so—he’s usually a chatterbox when drunk.

“Yuuji? Did’ya even hear me?” you push.

“I heard ya,” Yuuji hums, pulling you into the elevator with him. As the machinery moves up to your floor, it makes your stomach lurch—forcing you to grab onto Yuuji tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.

“Are we there yet?” You grumble into his arm, clutching him tight.

“Almost,” he replies softly. You think you feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the crown of your head, but with the way everything is spinning, you can’t be entirely sure.

Between some time and the next, you’re finally ambling into your apartment, clutching Yuuji’s jacket tight around you. As the door clicks shut, you spin to face him—

—and end up nearly face planting, if not for the way Yuuji surges forward to catch you in his arms. “Woah there,” he mumbles. “Steady. Don’t move too fast, or you’ll fall.”

Despite his words, he has to lean against the now shut door to keep himself upright, you can feel that much. You grasp the fabric of his shirt in balled fists, pressed against the sturdy surface of his chest. You can feel the way his muscles flex and roll as he shifts with the way you’re pressed up against him.

When you look up at him, doe-eyes wide, you’re met with brown eyes glimmering with want. Lust.

“Yuu… ji?” Your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. He inhales in sync, his hands dropping to curl around your waist. He holds you gently, like a porcelain teacup on the verge of breaking.

It's quiet. There's a dazed look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from his lips softly—but with the silence of the apartment, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it’s earth shattering. His eyes drop down to your glossy lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own.

You’re not in your right mind. This is a bad idea. You know this.

You don’t care.

Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you tug him down to you, lips meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s electrifying, everything you’ve ever wanted and needed in this one moment, warmth exploding in your chest like a dying star.

Fuck. You were kissing Itadori Yuuji—and it’s everything you dreamt it would be.

He pants your name amidst kisses but it’s hard to hear with your heart roaring in your ears, a drum beating an unsteady rhythm that throws you off balance in your very core. You stumble into the shoe-rack trying to hastily drag him over to the couch. Shoes clatter to the floor as you tumble into him, a moan falling from your lips as he paws at you while your hands tangle in his hair.

“I was lookin’ at you like that, you know?” Yuuji groans as the two of you fall back onto the couch. He holds you on top of him, letting you get comfy as you straddle his lap before he continues. “You haven’t noticed?”

His voice is heavy, dragging drunkenly as you stare down at him. In this position, with Yuuji laid back on the couch, you feel like you’re towering over him—giving you some semblance of control, even though you know perfectly well that Yuuji can flip you over and take you just like that. You dip your hands under his shirt, nails gently scratching against the velvet wrapped steel planes of his abs. Pushing the fabric up, you reveal the faint happy trail that begins at his navel, disappearing teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. You bite your lip.

“Hey,”—your name falls from his lips in the form of a plea, desperate and sweet—”Look at me.”

Big hands squeezing your hips force your attention back to him. You finally listen and meet his gaze, finding that his eyes are heavily eclipsed by dilated pupils, leaving a faint ring of hazel in its wake. It’s like a dark sun, or perhaps a black hole threatening to pull you into him, consumed by everything that is Itadori Yuuji.

You think you wouldn’t mind that one bit.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He’s worried, something that makes your heart warm fondly, giving you a moment of clarity amidst the fog of lust that addles your brain. The guys you typically went home with sometimes never found it in themselves to care too much about you. But Yuuji… he’s different. He does care. Yuuji continues, a touch softer, “We’re both drunk… what if we regret it in the morning?”

You slowly reach down to cradle his face in your hands. When you speak, it’s with a bold certainty that Yuuji cannot argue with: “I know I won’t regret it.”

Yuuji nods his head. With that anxiety out of the way, he surges up to kiss you with renewed vigor, tugging his jacket off of you and pulling the hem of your top over your chest to reveal your tits. When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the pretty lace bra you had opted to wear out tonight.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji says softly. A groan catches in his throat as you roll your hips down against his, delicious friction against his erection that has you mewling for more.

“Yu,” you sigh out as he unhooks your bra with clumsy fingers, pulling your shirt off as well in one go. The garments flutter to the floor, forgotten.

“I mean it—you really are.” His voice has noticeably deepened, taking on a huskier tone that makes your toes curl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never can.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, drawing a path down your jaw, the slope of your neck. He removes a hand from your waist to palm at your sensitive breast, drawing a whimper from you that has his cock twitching in his pants. “I can’t believe you’ve never noticed. Our friends tease me all the time for it, you know?” He sighs, nearly a whine, words slurring together in a lust-drunk haze as he presses a kiss to your collar. “I could never take another girl home with me because I only want you.”

Yuuji’s drunken confession sends you reeling, thighs tightening together around him as you tilt his chin up towards you. Love and adoration glimmers in your eyes as you respond gently, “I only want you, too.”

He smiles at you then, scooping you up in his arms as he rises. “Don’t wanna ruin the couch,” he murmurs, strong hands grasping at the fat of your ass as he carries you with ease. “Your room or mine?”

“Yu—” you gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, “mine, please.”

Even drunk, he moves with you with a practiced ease—as if you’ve done this your entire lives. As he lays you on your bed, he curls over you, lips pressing together messily as his hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt. There’s a brief moment where he pants, “Can I take them off, pretty? Can I?,” as he nips at your lower lip. You nod your head; immediately he’s sliding them off, leaving you in your lacy undergarments and feeling unfairly naked compared to him. You cross your arms over your chest shyly.

Yuuji smiles sweetly as he kneels, pressing a kiss to your navel.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I wanna see you..” He trails off as he hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. You can only manage to nod your head—words have entirely escaped you at this point. If you spoke, you weren’t sure what, exactly, would come out.

The way he pulls the fabric off of you is almost reverent, his eyes never leaving your body as he sets your panties to the side. His breath is hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Baby,” Yuuji starts, the pet name falling from his lips with ease, like something familiar, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Calloused fingertips press into the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs open, even going as far as hooking a leg over his shoulder as he settles between them. His breath is hot and heavy as he grows closer to your core. It’s embarrassing, and you want to press your legs together, but Yuuji doesn’t allow this. He’s firm in his place, holding your legs wide open, baring you to him.

He starts gentle. A kiss to the apex of your thighs, a gentle finger running along your sensitive, weeping slit. A shiver runs down your spine as he parts you open, eyes raptly on you.

“Don’t stare,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.”

He murmurs a soft apology, taking one more second for himself before he dives right in: tongue lapping at you voraciously, pulling the sweetest of moans from your lips as he eats you out like a man starved. You try to press your thighs together once more but he holds you open, unyielding in his grip as his tongue dips in your slit, then draws upwards, making circles around your clit.

He’s messy in the way he eats you out. He doesn’t hold back, either: he laps at you like he’s a dehydrated man at last finding an oasis, drinking in your juices like it’s the finest of nectars. Slick covers his chin as he raises his head to look at you, half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he eases a finger into you. It slips in with ease, aided by how wet you’ve gotten on just his tongue alone.

Your back arches as he pumps his finger into you. You need more. “Yuuji,” you plead in a broken moan. “Need more—want your cock inside me, I can take it.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he’s nodding his head like an eager puppy, withdrawing his hand and rising to pull his clothes off. You whine, a soft plea of, “hurry, need you now,” that has Yuuji clumsily fumbling at the button of his jeans. He doesn’t even pull them off fully, letting the fabric pool at his ankles as he takes his dick in his hands and presses his hips to yours. His shaft presses against your messy slit, pulsing and needy.

“Fuck,” he curses, a soft whine sounding deep in his throat as his hips cant against yours. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take in the sight: Yuuji, desperate, grasping your legs and nearly folding you in half as his cock rests on your pelvis, your navel. He’s big. The thought of someone his size fucking into you should be scary, but you know Yuuji will take care of you—or perhaps that’s the liquor in your brain telling you that you can take it, that you need him inside of you now.

“You’re gonna feel me so deep, baby,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight. You buck your hips slightly, barely moving thanks to the hold he has on you.

“I can take it,” you repeat, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “I need it. Give it to me, Yuuji.” Your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as finally, finally, he slides the tip against your slit, catching a few times against your clit (”Yuuji, stop teasing me!”) before he finally eases into you, his fat tip breaching your weeping cunt. The stretch burns, but the sensation is not an unwelcome one.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as Yuuji hunches over you, pressing further into your pussy. It feels like it should almost be fucking impossible how deep he reaches inside you like this.

“Baby, baby,” Yuuji whines against the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet. You can feel his chest heave against yours as he struggles to regain his bearings. “You’re so tight—don’t think I can pull out, you feel s’good…”

As he bottoms out, you think you might die like this. His cock fills you so perfectly, pulsing and twitching inside you as he forces himself to still—to give you time to adjust.

You don’t want time, though. You really will fucking die if he doesn’t move soon.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you to messily slot your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as his hips buck into yours. “Yuuji,” you breathe out against his lips. “Fuck me.”

“Okay, baby.” He nods, pressing his sweat slick forehead to yours as he moves his hips. He starts slower, long strokes that force you to feel all of him, deep and all-consuming and overwhelming your senses with him, strong arms caging you against the bed as he fucks into you again and again and again.

Yuuji’s pace picks up, your moans a sweet melody in his ears that spurs him on, making him lose all ration in his brain—it’s evident, in the way he growls almost animalistically, hips starting to rut into yours with reckless abandon. His balls slap against your ass, accompanied by a lewd squelch with every thrust into your messy cunt.

“Yu, fuck—please,” you sob with every thrust. He angles his hips a little differently until he finds the perfect spot—that sensitive little part of your cunt that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. Once he finds it, he narrows his focus on it, bullying his cock relentlessly into your pussy until you’re sobbing.

Your nails scratch along his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Yuuji groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hips pound into you.

“G’nna cum, don’t stop, ohhhh god,” you gasp out as Yuuji nips at the flesh of your collar. You claw at his back, toes curling in the air when you feel him slide a hand between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit, adding to the orchestra of sensations that are driving you mad with pleasure.

“Cum for me, angel,” Yuuji urges you breathlessly, fucking you with a renewed fervor. His hips are starting to stutter, and his large hands are grasping your thighs in a bruising grip as you convulse around him. His voice alone is enough to tip you over the edge; you’re falling into him, into oblivion, orgasming so hard your vision goes dark for a moment.

A long moan of his name falling from your lips is enough to push him over with you, white hot ropes of his cum coating your pulsing heat. You feel utterly breathless, boneless, as Yuuji slowly eases your legs down. The ache is pleasant.

“Baby,” Yuuji pants softly, breaking the pleasant silence as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. “I’m still… can I..?”

Oh, god. He is still rock hard inside of you. Your pussy is still fluttering with the world-shattering orgasm he had just given you—you’re not sure if you can take more.

But Yuuji looks at you with pleading eyes, your name falling from his lips with such desperation that you’re nodding your head, opening your arms for him. He smiles down at you, and as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hips slowly start to rut into yours again.

You’re not sure how many rounds you go with Yuuji—the rest of the night is a blur of moans and groans, of him making you cum again and again and again, as many times as you can possibly take.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a foreign weight slung over your chest.

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss quietly to yourself, voice raspy with remnants of sleep. “How much did I drink last night?”

Blinking open bleary eyes, you squint against the light that filters into the room—your room, which doesn’t make any sense because you never bring home your one night stands. Your hand brushes against the strong arm slung over you, and that’s when you hear an all-too-familiar snore.

“Oh, fuck.” You repeat, dread creeping into your groggy voice.

That was Itadori Yuuji in bed with you. That was your fucking roommate, naked in bed with you. You’re wearing his overly large t-shirt, and there’s an ache between your thighs that explains exactly what had transpired when you returned home with him last night.

You don’t remember too much, typical of nights where you have a little too much to drink. What you can grasp—mere wisps in the back of your mind—are fleeting moments of mind-numbing pleasure, or of sweet-nothings being whispered into your ear. Whatever scraps of memory you do have are enough to make you want to scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment.

You feel the arm around you tighten as Yuuji pulls you into his chest and you squeak.

Oh, that’s just fucking mortifying.

“Mmh… huh?” Yuuji mumbles sleepily. He slowly blinks, eyes focusing on you after a few moments. “What are you doing in my bed..?”

Your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, grasping at the sheets to keep your lower body covered as you do so. Your mouth opens and closes as you look for the right words to say.

Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow. He seems to have come to a realization without you having to say it out loud.

“Oh. This isn’t...” Yuuji frowns. He’s calm in a way that confuses you—why isn’t he freaking out like you are? “We got really hammered last night, huh?”

You slowly nod your head in agreement. “Do you… remember anything?”

Your attention is drawn to his lips when he bites his lower one in thought, then drifts downards when you catch the blooming hickeys on his neck in your peripherals. Oh, god, did you leave those? What were you thinking?

All too slowly, Yuuji’s eyes meet yours. The way he looks at you is almost unbearable. There’s a sinking sensation in your chest: you think he might apologize, or tell you that last night was a mistake. That he won’t let it happen again. Quickly, you blurt, “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

Yuuji tilts his head, his train of thought forgotten. “Say what?”

“I get that you regret it.” The words start tumbling out of your mouth and there’s little you can do to stop it. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. I know you’re too kind to just say it outright like that—“

Yuuji opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel onwards, looking down at your lap. You’re too mortified to look at him directly.

“—And I understand if you maybe want to avoid me for awhile? I know things will be awkward, so seriously, take whatever time you need—“

Your onslaught of words is cut off by Yuuji cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s gentle, and while it only lasts for a heartbeat, to you it feels like it lasts a lifetime.

Stunned, you lift a hand to your lips, ghosting your fingers over them as you stare at him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” Yuuji starts softly, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. “I didn’t know how else to stop you.”

You blink at him, making a noise in the back of your throat. It’s an exhale of breath, of one you didn’t even know you were holding until just now.

“I don’t regret it. And I really hope you don’t, too.” Yuuji sighs gently. When his eyes meet yours, he looks unsure, but he continues, “I meant everything I said last night. You’re beautiful, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Have been, for awhile now.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage. You think your heart might explode in your chest. It beats an uneven rhythm, pulsing against your ribcage as if it’s bound to break out any moment now.

“I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, yanno? But now that, uh...” He clears his throat. “Last night happened… I might as well come out with it.”

You nod your head as his words sink in. Yuuji visibly gets more distressed with every second that passes in tense silence, so you say, “Okay. I see.”

He swallows—you know what he wants to ask: ‘Do you like me like that, too?’ but he doesn’t voice it out loud. It hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You carefully deliberate your next words.

“Will you take me on a date, Yuuji?” you ask bluntly.

“What?”

“I said—”

“No, no, I heard what you said.” His eyes widen slightly, stark relief visible in his irises. “Are you sure? I mean—I’d love to. Yes. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, angel. You name it.”

You smile fondly at Yuuji—you think if he had a tail, it would be wagging ferociously right about now. “First, you can get me a glass of water and some ibuprofen. Then we’ll talk about date plans, ‘kay?”

Yuuji nods his head fervently. He rises out of bed—and quickly realizes that he’s still naked. “Oh—shit, don’t look,” he stammers, lunging for his boxers that were conveniently laid out on the floor as he blushes. Once he’s got those pulled on, he turns towards you. You’ve politely averted your eyes.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he murmurs, grabbing your attention by gently grasping your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Anything else I should grab ya?”

You feel your face warm up at the affection as you shake your head. With a smile, Yuuji shuffles out of your room to go fetch your requested items.

As you sit in the quiet of your bedroom, listening to Yuuji rustle through the bathroom, you think that maybe fucking your roommate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

#☆ oakie writes #jjk smut #jjk x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji smut #yuji itadori smut #yuuji itadori smut #itadori yuuji smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #cw alcohol #dividers by cafekitsune

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ohbother2 · 8 months

Text

OKAY SO-

Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts

Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts

in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room

and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man

he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist

and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator

and Alastor simply cannot handle that

Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status

so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?

a relationship with Charlie

his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her

regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters

but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?

his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway

'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'

this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses

he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged

there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will

killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop

Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell

Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back

Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair

he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed

he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie

and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do

so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?

he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her

he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie

and he's nearly got her

and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents

she shakes his hand

he has her soul

he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer

there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?

he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him

all it takes is one hand shake.

the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all

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eternalsams · 15 days

Text

Call Me Daddy ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x single mom!reader

warning/content: fluff, kids shenanigans, Jake being so good with a kid, Jake being Jake, tiny innuendos (blink and you miss it), reader's daughter's name is Lila

summary: When your daughter mistaken Jake for her father, you're more than embarrassed. That until she tells you why she called him that.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration.

masterlist

What would be better for his quiet alone night in his little apartment? Canned green beans or canned lenses? Why not take both and choose back at home? Jake sighed and dropped the two cans in his shopping cart. The earbuds in his ears blasting music to shut off the noise around him and his fingertips drumming the rhythm against his thigh. He could hear people walking behind him and sometimes complaining about how much space he was taking in the aisle. But he really couldn't care less. He went back to the main aisle and walked past the cookie section, stopping in his tracks and eying the sweet aisle. He grimaced and looked down at his shopping cart, he's been forcing himself to keep a healthier diet when he noticed he gained a few extra pounds the last few months. He softly groaned as he let his inner thoughts win and walk in the cookie aisle.

He tried to ignore the full chocolate ones and kept walking to the more 'healthy' ones. He picked a box and tried not to stare at the numerous calories at the back. "Come on, baby. We already have those cookies at home." A feminine voice came from the other side of the aisle. Jake turned to the voice and completely forgot about his cookies when he noticed something way sweeter. He could tell you were exhausted by the small bags under your eyes but other than that, you took great care of yourself, probably to hide the real fatigue from the others. You were trying to reason with a little girl, not older than 6 from what he knew of kids, and Jake could tell she was your daughter. She was practically your clone with how much she looked like you. Jake mindlessly dropped the cookie box into his cart and the little girl's attention was on him in a second. But all could Jake see was the pleading look in your eyes as you tried to convince your daughter she didn't need the dinosaur shaped cookies. His eyes staring at you might have discouraged your daughter because she put the box back onto the aisle and grabbed your hand silently.

Jake blinked a few times as you left the cookie section to keep going with your shopping and only then he noticed the little girl's eyes staring at him. He softly waved at her with a smile and her rosy lips stretched with a grin. Jake scoffed and decided it was enough cookies for now and looked a last time to his hand-written shopping list. He didn't see you again for the rest of his errands, that until he felt a light tap on his arm. He turned around and looked down at the little girl he saw earlier. He paused the music in his earbuds and smiled at the girl. "Hey, where's your mom? Did you get lost?" He asked as knelt down, starting to look around them. "Are you my daddy?" She asked him and he felt his neck crack as he abruptly looked back at her. "What? No-" He laughed nervously, not knowing where this was coming from. "Lila? Lila!" Your voice called and jake could see you running to them, crouching down to take your daughter in your arms. "What did I tell you? Keep your hands on the cart and stay around me." You said sternly and Jake stood back on his feet, rubbing his neck. You took the little girl's hand in yours and looked up at Jake with an apologetic and yet suspicious look. "I'm sorry, she usually don't wander about when shopping." You said and Jake nodded with a smile. "No harms done."

"Is that my daddy?" Lila asked, looking between you and the tall stranger. Your eyes widened and you glared at your daughter as Jake scoffed, finding the situation way funnier than he should. "Lila! He's not- I'm sorry, sir." You apologized once more and Jake chuckled. "It's alright, really. She's a cute kid." He desperately tried to make conversation but he knew nothing about you. Except for your daughter. "She is, usually. But she's never done that to any man, that's weird." You said more to yourself than to him. "Well, I'm flattered." Jake smiled and you nervously chuckled. "I'm Jake." he introduced himself, freeing one of his hands to shake yours. You told him your name with a shy smile and looked down at your daughter. "Well, Jake. It was nice meeting you but I've got a dinner to get." You started to walk back and Jake felt the need to stay close to you but didn't do anything. He so wanted to ask for your number or something but he didn't even know if you were single. He knew Lila's dad wasn't in the picture, because why else would she have called him 'daddy'? But maybe you had a husband waiting for you at home, Lila's step-dad. He sighed when you went out of sight and grumbled something under his breath before opening his music app and clicking on the play button.

When you parked your car in your alley, Lila unbuckled her seatbelt but you stayed in your seat. "Mum we're home." She leaned over to your seat, waiting for you to get out and open her door. "I know, baby. I know." You blinked a few times, thinking about your meeting with Jake. That was new. It had been years since a man caught your attention. Jake had been really nice to Lila from what you saw and really nice to you too. You kicked yourself mentally for not asking for his number. You really lost all your flirting techniques.

A few hours later, you called Lila for dinner and she came running to the kitchen, already dressed in her pj's. You kissed her head when you put her plate in front of her and took your seat in front of her. "Baby, why did you think the man from the store was your daddy?" You asked between two bites. Lila didn't even wait to swallow her food and started answering. "Not with your mouth full please, baby." You leaned over the table and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She loudly swallowed her vegetables and clumsily put down her fork. "It's because of Ethan." She said and you frowned. You knew of Ethan, he was one of Lila's friend from school. "What did Ethan said?" You got curious. "He said his parents look at each other like we look at jewels. He said that one time his daddy watched his mom like she was a princess." Lila smiled and you started to realize what she meant. "So when you asked Jake if he was your daddy-" You started before she cut you off with a grin on her face. "He was watching you like you were a princess." She giggled, putting her little hands in front of her mouth.

You huffed and leaned back into your chair, not believing your ears. When Lila finished her dinner, you sent her to brush her teeth and go to bed, not without a complain from her. And when you were sure she was asleep, you grabbed your laptop and opened the few social medias you had. Jake. You tried looking through possible mutual friends, but nothing. From the local companies accounts, still nothing. You stayed up way later than you'd ever admit looking for this man but it was like he never existed. At least on the internet. Than you remembered the kind of supplies he had in his cart. You also noticed how firm his whole body looked and you looked up the local gym. You looked through the different posts, videos, photos, anything. And then you found him. His back was facing the camera and he was wearing a black tank top and a backward cap, but you could recognize those shoulders anywhere now. You hoped for a linked account in the caption but it seemed he didn't have one. Though you had his name and function. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.

A few days passed without having any sign from Jake. You almost went to the groceries when Lila was at school, hoping to meet him again but you decided against it. You had no idea how to get in contact with this man. Hell, you didn't even know if he was single, but you needed to know. You looked at your watch and noticed you still had a few hours before leaving to pick up Lila from school. You changed into some comfortable sweats and a lose shirt before grabbing your keys and leaving for a quick jogging. You tried your best to suppress any thought concerning Jake and focused on your breathing before you could get a side ache. Your eyes even started tricking you as you started seeing Jake's face to every blond, tall men you saw. You shook your head to the first one and ignored the next ones. Then someone called your name.

You turned to the voice and your eyes widened when you recognized Jake. The real Jake. "Oh, hi, Jake right?" You tried to play innocent, not like you tried to stalk him. He smiled at you and caught his breath, him too seemingly on his run day. "Yeah, from the grocery store, you remember me!" You chuckled at that, if he only knew. "Yeah, yeah I remember you. Hard to forget your daughter's dad." What the shit? You smacked yourself internally and giggled nervously when he laughed. "I never thought I'd see a kid walking to me and ask if I'm their daddy." He smiled even more, how was that even possible? "It's nice to see you again." You said, trying not to look at his bulging biceps peeking out from his shirt. "It's nice to see you too. I um... I wanted to ask for your number the other ay but I didn't know if that was appropriate." He said, taking his phone out of his pocket, hoping dearly he wasn't reading this wrong. "That's really not inappropriate." You chuckled and took his phone when he gave it to you, entering your phone number into his contacts. "So... No step-dad for Lila?" He dared ask and you looked up at him with a shy smile. "No, no step-dad. It's been a rough few years for mom so, no time for meeting step-dad." You playfully said as you gave him his phone back.

"I hope mommy won't be too hard on me then." He boldly said with a cocky smile. Your breath got caught in your throat and you felt yourself blushing at his words. "I'm sure she'll be great if you don't misbehave." A boldness you didn't know took over your body and had you say those words, getting you to blush even more. Jake didn't seem to mind one bit as he laughed and looked down at his feet for a moment. "Do you think I could ask you out for dinner?" He then asked, looking back at you. "I'd love to, but I don't really like leaving Lila with a babysitter, I'm a bit of a mother hen." You said. You were a bit sad that could discourage Jake but your daughter would always come first. "No problem! I can come over and cook you two dinner, what do you say?" He smiled at you and you felt your heart flutter with affection. "I'm sure Lila would love that." You told him. "And what about you? Would you like that?" He took a step closer to you, now standing in your personal space. "I would love that." You smiled at him.

taglist: @senawashere @hardballoonlove @blue-aconite @iliketopgun @callsign-hummingbird @roosterforme @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @hangmansgbaby @callsigns-haze

@els-marvelvsp @averagewriter-inthedark @theglenaissance @hangmanforever @goldenseresinretriever @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia

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helluvapoison · 8 months

Text

imagine you work at the hotel and become the newest victim of a certain spider

˚✧₊⁎ Angel Dust ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: suggestive themes

• Every hotel needs a receptionist, right? Truth be told, it’s a glorified title for your position. You sit behind the front desk to answer a phone that doesn’t ring, take reservations on an ancient computer that doesn’t even work and greet guests that don’t show up! It would almost be completely boring if not for the antics of the regulars

• Particularly, Angel Dust. He’s constantly in your personal bubble! Don’t think you’re special for that one, he invades everyone’s space

• He’ll sit on your desk— thrice he’s tried to plop himself in your lap only for you to scoot the chair back at the right second, having him land on the floor to glare up at you

• He drapes a pair of arms over your shoulders and asks if you want to watch one of his “movies” on the computer

• He calls you from his room and harmlessly offers you to come up and join him

• He asks you to drop off towels then answers the door naked!

“Mr Dust, would you stop that!?” You shout, red in the face.

“Not my fault if you always fall for it, honey.”

• When he’s not working, he joins you on your lunch breaks and steals bites of whatever you have. He makes up for it by leaving inappropriately shaped sweets on your desk now and then

• Angel’s also the first, and only, to ask you join him after your shift. A real, genuine invitation. Recently slender fingers have stopped trying to crawl up your knee

• “Evening, Mr Dust.”

“Thought I told you to cut that shit out. I ain’t no mister,” He leans over so your eye level with his chest floof and winks, “It’s just Angel, baby.”

“Whatever you say... Angel, baby.”

You can’t help but smirk when a rosy blush glows across his face

• Angel: 129 | You: 1

• You’ll still count that as a major win. Somehow, you think it’s no easy feat to make The Angel Dust blush

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust imagine #angel dust headcanon

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spencereidluver · 10 months

Text

B is for Boy Genius?

july 23, 2008

summary: You outsmart Spencer in one of his most talented subjects: Poker. Derek officially removes his "Boy Genius" title, effectively aggravating sans-poker-champ Spencer. And someone is a little hot when he's angry...

word count: 2k

warnings: none really, some friendly bullying of Spencer by Derek but nothing that isn't normal in the show.

“Straight flush.” Spencer says with a grin. He’s been in the BAU going on 5 years, and has yet to be beaten at poker by anyone.

“Oh, Spencer,” you lean in toward him and flatten your cards on the table. “Royal. Flush.”

“What? No way.” He speaks before he can even look at your cards. “Oh my god.”

“How’s it feel to be beaten at your own game?”

“I want a rematch. Outside dealer.” He passes the deck to Derek, who is sitting at his desk across the aisle.

“Pretty boy got beat, huh?” Derek says, beginning to shuffle the cards. He deals them out, planting a little kiss on the last card he hands you. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart is what Derek has called you since you joined the team. At first you thought it was a little weird, but by now you’re used to it. And to be honest, it’s one of the more normal names he calls his coworkers. So you lucked out there.

You see Spencer smirk, he probably has a good hand. Well, maybe not. He’s always had a pretty good poker face, no pun intended.

“What’s going on?” Rossi says as he makes his way out of his office to see Derek, JJ, and Emily all surrounding you and Spencer.

“Oh, pretty boy and girl genius here are having a poker-off.” Derek says. That’s the first time you’ve ever been called girl genius, it makes you feel a small tingle in your stomach. You look up at the former boy genius in front of you, he’s got a rosy blush on his cheeks and spreading across his nose and down his neck. His pupils have dilated. Oh... Maybe he’s just nervous. . .

“Spencer here just lost his first poker game.” Emily says, giving him a pat on the shoulder. It makes him jump.

“First and only.” Spencer testified. He clenches his jaw, making a small dimple appear. “Full house.” He slams his cards down and looks toward you with a smile.

You click your tongue. Rossi has now appeared and is watching from behind Spencer’s shoulder. Locking eyes with him, you slide his cards to the side. “Four of a kind.” you say as you sit each card down one by one.

Spencer’s eyes all but come out of his skull. Derek erupts in laughter, “Dethroned,” he manages to say. He ruffles Spencer’s hair. “How’s it feel having a new genius around?”

“I’m impressed.” Spencer tells you, ignoring Derek’s provoking remarks. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Oh you know, picked it up during my college years.” You say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a half-mouthed smirk.

The crowd of your coworkers fades out, and everyone gets back to work. Your desk being directly across from Spencer’s, you see him studying the cards through the pile of binders and Manilla folders between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe you won. Twice,” he looks up from his desk to say.

“You just can’t give up the crown, can you, Spence?” You respond.

_____

You get up from your desk to go get your lunch from the breakroom. With a morning filled with poker and getting a solid new nickname, you’ve worked up quite an appetite. Upon opening the door, you bump shoulders with JJ, who is making her way out.

“Woah there, girl genius,” she says. “Watch where you’re going there.”

“Sorry JJ, the genius doesn’t come equipped with self-steering.” You joked.

Spencer is standing at the counter stirring a coffee. His head turned toward you as you walked in the room, causing him to lose control of his hands and the coffee-coated spoon went flying.

“Nor hand eye coordination.” Emily laughs from the table in the corner.

“Shut up.” Spencer mumbles, wiping the small mess he made up with a paper towel. “You know, the average win rate for professional poker players is only 47%.”

“Well, as of right now, y/n’s is 100.” Emily pats his shoulder once again as she walks past him and out the door, leaving you and Spencer alone.

“I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal of this little poker thing.” He says, a little annoyed.

You walk behind him and open the fridge. “It’s all in good fun, Spence. We all know you’re still the smartest by a long shot.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Like, why has everyone been bringing it back up. I lost a game, big deal.”

“I think everyone is just surprised is all. I mean, you haven’t lost a game in five years, Spence. That's a long time.”

“Not really. Considering most of the people here are in their thirties, that’s only 1.5% of their life-“

You interrupt him. “But, they’ve only worked here since they were about 25, making that their entire time here.”

Spencer’s mouth drops wide open. He cannot believe you caught that. Especially before him. “I- Wow. I guess you’re right." He looks defeated, tensing his shoulders and taking a heavy breath.

"You're still the smartest person I know, Spence." You try to make him feel better. The corners of his mouth turn up in what would not quite be classified as a smile. "And the whole team agrees with me, they're just trying to get under your skin."

He giggles and makes a disgusted face. "Ew. You didn't have to word it like that, y/n. I've lost my appetite." He pushes his coffee away and grins.

You quickly grab a straw from the small four compartment organizer to your right, sticking it in the cup and taking a sip out of it. You swallow, blinking aggressively. "Spencer, how many sugars did you put in here?" He'd been autonomously opening and pouring in sugar packets since the conversation began.

He glances in the small garbage bin beneath his feet. "Um, thirteen." He says, pressing his lips together forming the "white people" smile.

_____

You walk in the office slightly later than your normal time. You took a detour to the local supermarket in order to pick up some yogurt for lunch, getting sidetracked by a t-shirt you found on the end-cap of an isle.

You grabbed the t-shirt and two bottles of coffee and hurried to the register, completely forgetting the yogurt you made the trip for in the first place.

As you reach your car, you toss your knitted bag, now filled with coffee and a t-shirt, into your passenger seat and quickly climb inside.

The office is about 2 minutes from the supermarket. As you drive, you play with the fabric of the black shirt peeking out of the bag. You wonder when you're going to have a chance to put it on.

As you pull into the parking lot of the BAU, you see Spencer hustling in. He must be running late. Odd. He was never late. Never. You saw Spencer’s rare fault as the perfect moment, and slipped your sweater off in the driver’s seat of your car. You slid the black tshirt over your bra, pulling the button up sweater over your shoulders and fastening all but the top button. You grabbed your bag, sliding it over your left shoulder and exited your car, shuffling in.

You met Spencer at the elevator, unsure how you both got there at the same time as he’d entered the building a good two minutes before you.

“Good morning, Spence,” you said and smiled at him.

“Mornin’, y/n. How are you?” He responded.

“I’m good, how about you?”

“I’m okay, I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to get my coffee, but other than that I’m doing well.”

You thought about the glass bottle in your bag. You knew grabbing two would be a good idea. You looked up at the tall man, feeling small as he glanced down toward you. “I stopped by the market this morning, I picked up an extra coffee. I was going to just save it for tomorrow, but you’re welcome to have it.”

“Oh, are you sure, y/n? Don’t feel like you have to give up your coffee because I was up all night.”

You wondered why he was up all night. What could’ve been on his mind that kept him up so late? You gestured the bottle over to him, smiling as he took it from your grasp.

“Thank you, y/n. I owe you for this one.”

The elevator door opened and the two of you began walking down the hall to the BAU room. Spencer opens his coffee, a satisfying “pop” sound as the seal of the lid breaks. You pull the glass door open and hold it for him as he takes his first sip. He scurries through and you follow, pulling your own coffee from your bag.

“Well, well, well,” Derek announced loud enough the whole building could hear. “Look who finally decided to show up to work.”

“Shut up,” Spencer retaliated.

“I didn’t know coffee was on the new genius this morning. Where’s mine, y/n?” Derek joked, smirking at Spencer.

You could tell this one stung a little bit. Spencer knew it was all fun and games, but having his one strong suit, in his mind anyways, be taken away from him hurt. You rolled your eyes and hurried over to your desk, sitting your bag down on the files you’d yet to fill out. You looked up, expecting Spencer to be at the table across from you, but he wasn’t. He’d walked away. You sighed and got to work.

Spencer returned about half an hour later, sitting down at his desk without even acknowledging you. He began aggressively writing on his paperwork, so aggressively that his hand veins protruded and knuckles turned white. By the clench of his jaw, you knew he was probably a little upset by the interaction with Derek earlier, so you decided now would be the perfect time to unveil your purchase from this morning.

You stood up, unbuttoning your sweater and slowly worked your way toward Spencer. You grabbed the deck of playing cards from his desk, drawing the man’s attention. He glanced up at you with a slightly raised eyebrow. Leaning down close to his ear, you whispered, “follow me.”

He shivered as the heat of your voice hit the back of his neck, but obliged. You took him up the stairs to the half floor located in front of Hotch’s office. “Just go with it, okay?” You said to him. He looked confused, but nodded in agreement despite.

You loudly cleared your throat, attention from the floor below turned toward you. You held up the deck of cards. You made sure your shirt was visible and gently brushed your side against the man who stood next to you.

“I would like to re-declare Dr. Spencer Reid as certified office genius. After further research, he has proven himself worthy of the title.” You announced to the rest of the team who had their full attention on you. Spencer smiled.

“You’re too kind,” Spencer said, leaning down to take a peek at your shirt that he’d noticed you’d paid extra attention to. He couldn’t quite see it as half of it was wrinkled from the curves of your body and the guard rail was disturbing his view as he leaned forward. He grabbed your shoulders and gently twisted them to face him. His eyes met your breasts, despite knowing he was just reading the vinyl words, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little bit. You knew everyone in the office was watching you guys as well, making you even warmer. Spencer’s cheeks had a small hint of rose to them as well as he mouthed the words on your shirt.

“I’m with genius,” he whispered under his breath. A smile took over his face, but it slowly faded as he realized he was still holding on to your shoulders. He felt his cheeks grow red and he quickly pulled his arms back down to his side.

You opened your mouth to begin speaking, but right when the words were about to come out, the door to Hotch’s office swung open and he came barreling through, files in hand.

“Sorry to ruin the fun guys, but we have a case.”

_____

next chapter: C is for Case by Case

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version!

_____

a/n: okay i guess that one was kind of boring too.. but i kinda wanna set some tension and some story lines before we just jump in you know... since this chapter was pretty long, the next chapter is going to be a short little filler chapter of a conversation with you, spencer, and hotch. I hope you guys are enjoying so far :)

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencereidluver #spencer reid a-z

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floswife · 9 months

Text

SORE LOSER - T.N X READER

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other

Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?

Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀

Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.

Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?

She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.

In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.

After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.

“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.

He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”

He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.

“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.

Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.

He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.

“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.

He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”

He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.

“Being such a good girl for me.”

He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, “swallow.”

He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.

He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”

Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”

He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.

“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.

She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.

“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”

She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it

He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”

Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.

“Theo!” She gasped.

He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”

“What-“

And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.

She really did hate him.

But he was so hot.

Looks like she had plans for the night.

Part two?

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 11 months

Text

red wine | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you and finnick spend the evening together at a party in president snow’s mansion. hidden feelings reveal that things are much more complicated than they seem.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of alcoholism, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, minor angst

notes: i'm really proud of how this one turned out. someone better enjoy it.

word count: 1.3k

The entire room was buzzing, a party at Snow’s Mansion in full swing. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing, and yet all Finnick could focus on was you. Your rosy smile. Your sparkling eyes. Your laugh that rang like a perfectly pitched bell. He had never heard anything more harmonic.

Drunk on sweet red wine, your head fell back with every word that left his mouth. His natural wits and humour only seemed to heighten your amusement.

“…such a liar!”

“No, I’m serious,” Finnick urged, grinning. “Go look if you don’t believe me.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn’t stop. After winning the 70th Hunger Games, you thought happiness was something impossible to regain. Many visits to the Capitol resulted in you meeting the famous Finnick Odair, who, over the course of many months, had gained your friendship and showed you that light could still be found in the darkness that was being a Victor.

“Fine, Finnick. I believe you—President Snow has cats dressed in little white suits running around his mansion.”

“Thank you!”

You weren’t sure how you ended up talking about Snow’s cats. You weren’t sure when the wine had seeped into your brain, making the subject so irrationally hilarious. All you knew was that it didn’t matter what Finnick was talking about. What mattered was that he was talking about it with you.

Throughout the night, all types of women had thrown themselves at him. Beautiful women. Old women. Women who were surgically enhanced to resemble animals. But he rejected them all to stay by your side. Another girl came swooping in, asking him for a dance. She was incredibly attractive, her eyes dark and sultry, her hair pin-straight and hanging at her waist.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline. You thought for certain he would whisk her away.

But once again, he proved you wrong.

His hand fell on your hip, pulling you into his side. “Sorry, honey. I’ve already got a dancing partner tonight.”

That sobered you up a little.

The woman pouted, her whisker implants drooping as she left in the opposite direction.

You glanced nervously at the large hand still cupping your hip before looking back up at Finnick. “I am not dancing in front of these people.”

“Why not? You’re a great dancer.” He smirked. “Remember that time I walked in on you dancing in one of the bathrooms? That thing you were doing with your hips?” He blew out a breath of air.

Warmth flooded your cheeks. That had been the first time you met Finnick. You were a borderline alcoholic back then, having just become a Victor and all. Still, dancing in a bathroom was tough. Having the Capitol’s heartthrob catch you was even tougher.

“You know, your face is almost as red as that gorgeous dress you’re wearing,” he teased.

Everyone at the party was weighed down with extravagant and obnoxious attire which, to Finnick, resembled aliens trying to impersonate human fashion. But not you though. You wore a simple floor-length silk dress that was the colour of blood. There was nothing remarkable about the gown, yet Finnick found it to be the loveliest thing he had ever seen—a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else’s ridiculous artificial outfits. Or maybe it was just the person wearing it that made him feel this way.

You hiccupped. “I’m just trying to achieve the monarchy look.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “You mean the monochromatic look?” Your expression morphed into one of puzzlement as if you were trying to figure out the secrets of the universe. Finnick chuckled, swiping his thumb across your warm cheek. “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart. You’re very drunk.”

“Only a little.”

He watched as your eyes closed, swaying on your feet. There was a small smile on your face, seemingly absorbing the lively atmosphere around you. The thumping music; the sound of laughter, and the warmth of alcohol buzzing in your brain. If the entire room weren’t swarming with his customers and the President’s guards, he probably would have kissed you. And if you were in your right mind, he probably would have confessed his feelings too.

Too many variables worked against him. So, instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Maybe you should call it a night. Before you end up in the bathrooms again.”

You laughed, eyes opening again. He laughed with you, but your drunken mind failed to notice the deep affection his gaze suddenly held. A lot of things had slipped past you that night. If only you had seen them; things between the two of you would be so much more different. Less complicated. More true.

Finnick helped you gather your things, shooing away every man who asked to take you home on your way out. Somewhere along the way, his hand had interlocked with yours. This you noticed. The wine only seemed to enhance the butterflies fluttering around your stomach. It sent sparks up your arm, beginning in your fingertips which rested between his knuckles.

Eventually, he had successfully assisted—half-carried—you down the palace steps and into the backseat of your ride home.

“Don’t get into any trouble without me, Finnick Odair,” you said, looking up at him from your seat.

His dimples grew deep with a genuine smile, dishevelled hair blowing in the soft night wind. He rested a hand on the door. You wished he would step into the car with you.

Once more, he gently brushed his thumb against your cheek. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

A subtle confession. And then the door shut.

Finnick watched the taillights fade into the dark as you disappeared down the long driveway. Gone. Until the next party, that is. Or maybe even before then, if he finally gathered up the courage to convince you to flee Panem with him. Only then would he be free to pursue his feelings for you.

Johanna, who had been threatened into coming to the party by the President, found Finnick at the bottom of the palace steps, solemnly staring into the darkness. She stepped beside him. He didn’t seem startled; he barely even noticed her presence.

“You okay?” she asked flatly. When Finnick said nothing, she tried again. “You two looked friendly tonight.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. Was it that obvious? Who else noticed?

“Johanna,” he finally acknowledged her existence. “If I asked you to put an axe in my head, would you?”

“Not that I wouldn’t be happy to do so, but why, may I ask?”

His hard-set lips quirked at the question. Why? Shades of red flooded his mind like an open floodgate. Crimson of a silk dress. Cherry of painted lips. Pink of blushing cheeks. All of which flowed through his red-blooded veins and straight into his heart.

Laughter in the tune of a perfected melody echoed in his ears, the image of a beaming smile accompanying it. Then there was the voice, “Don’t get into any trouble without me, Finnick Odair.” He hung onto every word that voice spoke. All the philosophical thoughts it had spoken aloud; the nonsensical wine-drunken babbling, and the gentle whispers that longed for a simpler life which he had the honour of being trusted with. Your voice. Your words.

Everything that made you who you were—that was the answer to Johanna’s question. The reasoning behind Finnick’s next words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Surprise briefly flickered across Johanna’s features, then returned to their usual monotony state. “Well… that’s not good.”

“No,” he spoke, his eyes lingering on the ominous white roses that lined either side of the driveway. “It’s not.”

part two

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #finnick x oc #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #katniss everdeen

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onsomenewsht · 2 months

Text

I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

About when she wants to win gold and you talk too much but don’t answer her questions

《 read part 2, 'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader

》 words count: + 1.7k

》 the mountain’s call [way of saying]: the irresistible pull or urge to pursue a challenging goal or adventure

“You look like someone who needs to see the best place in the entire Village”

Alexia looks up from the pass’ lanyard she’s fidgeting with, finding your open smile even before spotting your outstretched hand. Her eyebrow rises on its own accord, always sceptical around strangers.

The Olympic Village is big enough to welcome the egos of some of the best athletes in the world, but not big enough to avoid their clashing. It’s actually encouraged.

Within a certain limit, obviously.

The footballer sees you in passing almost every day, given that the Spanish Team rooms are basically neighbours with the Italian Team ones. Your outgoing attitude and friendly nature make you pretty popular around the village. The fact you’re easy on the eyes and quite the talk among the players isn’t lost on Alexia either – she likes good gossip like anybody else.

“Come on, Reina, don’t let me stand here like an idiot”, your teasing words take her back from her overthinking one more time.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere celebrating that?”, she points to the medal hanging around your neck.

A genuine smile rises on both your faces as you mindlessly hold the piece of gold to look at it one more time, feeling like this is some kind of dream.

Your gaze falls on Alexia, still sitting in a corner of a communal break room when her teammates are cheering all around for one more victory in their Olympic journey.

“I’m gonna celebrate for the next four years, I can spare some time for you”

“Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s not the first one”, she takes your hand as you burst out laughing, helping her on her feet.

You may have hosted the closest thing to a party you can do in the Village when, just earlier this week, you won your first gold medal.

It’s not your first Olympics, it’s not even your first Olympic medal. But finally being a gold medalist? An Olympic Champion? You sure could not let it pass over in silence.

The short walk is filled with small talks and giggles, you do most of the talking but Alexia’s grin stays firmly on her face the entire time. You notice her rosy cheeks and more relaxed stance, holding yourself high with pride to finally see the blonde so carefree around you.

“How did you even find this place?”

The night lights of Paris really turn the city into some sort of fantastic dream, the view is easily able to take the breath away from the little balcony you open for her. You’re on top of the biggest complex in the Village, the usual chaos that fills the French capital is somehow just background noise.

“Fencing is an ancient discipline”, you start, barely avoiding Alexia’s playful hit on your arm at your documentary-like approach.

“Jokes aside, the Italian school basically created fencing, but then the French school redefined the system to what it’s like today and they will not shut up about it. It’s a long lasting rivalry between two countries that, sportwise, hate each other”

“Everyone hates the French, sportwise”, the Spain captain agrees, mimicking your move as you sit on the floor of the balcony.

“Fencing into the Grand Palais in fucking Paris is like playing every single game as a World Cup final against the host country in a stadium filled with their fans and colours”

“Dramatic”

“Of course! You’re putting Italian and French people in the same place, asking them to fight with swords, literally. It’s gonna be dramatic”, you let your gaze wander around as the blonde’s one tries to find something inside you.

Alexia waits for you, understanding just now how your cheerful and playful behaviour hides something more complex.

She has turned on your Team Final on her way back from the stadium, curious about it – about you – after the little party you put on for the entire Village following your Individual Final victory.

She got nothing about what was happening, not understanding how some hits were good and others were given away or not counted. She prides herself on being able to recognise good athleticism and quick leg ability though. The way you move on the piste, quickly but precisely in every single gesture, is mesmerising. The way your mind acts even faster than your body is even more captivating.

What surprised her the most is the way you hold back.

While your opponents celebrate any conceded hits and your teammates celebrate loudly all the successful points, you stay stoic and firm the entire time.

It’s something she doesn’t expected from you, usually so excited about everything.

That’s probably one of the reasons that brings her here with you in the first place.

“You don’t look dramatic when you fence”

“Oh, you watched me?”

“It was the bare minimum after your detailed commentary after our last game”

“I’m Italian, I’m a football fan from birth”, you say, rolling your eyes humorously, not ready to reveal that the Spanish team is the only one you care about keeping up with during this Olympic tournament.

Alexia Putellas just admitted she turned on your Final to see you win a gold medal.

“Wait, let’s just go back to you watching me fence”

She smile at your weak attempt to avoid her question, genuinely amused about you but pretty sure you’re gonna tell her everything she asks – eventually.

A comfortable silence between the two of you fills the air for some minutes, somehow guiding your bodies closer.

“How did you find this place?”, the Catalan winks when you turn to look at her.

“I hate fencing with the French”, you start to explain after a bit with a serious note underneath your voice, “I lost my last Olympic Individual Final against a reckless fencer with the most annoying Parisian accent ever”

Another moment passes, Alexia doesn’t pressure you but can feel you relax when she places her hand on your knee.

“Last time I was in Paris, I injured myself. I was out for nine months and lost two major tournaments. This Olympics being hosted here as I was supposed to redeem myself and prove to be good enough at the same time? Really took a turn on me at first”, you avoid her gaze as you sum up one of your biggest fears to a stranger on a balcony viewing Paris’ landscape.

“I needed a place to escape without running away”

“And here we are, facing Paris from a hiding spot”

How the footballer manages to understand you so well in such a short amount of time, in such an unusual setting, is really something that surprises you. Your eyes meet and you can distinctly feel your heart skip a bit.

“I befriended a handyman, this floor is for staff only as some sort of control room”

“This explains the private balcony”

“I should have started with this and not the unasked story of my life”

You can still feel Alexia’s hand on you, mindlessly caressing your leg as you try not to implode and hide the redness of your face. She smirks.

“We’ll play France in the semifinal”, she says with a hint of disbelief and irony.

“Fuck the French”, you state solemnly, “It’s basically a wanna-be repeat of the Champions League’s final, you’re going to be fine”

“If you just jinxed it–”

“I did not, I know an Olympic Champion when I see one”

The burst of confidence and the firmness in your voice, despite the easy way you’re both talking about Spain’s next game, are enough to subside the noises inside Alexia’s head – your voice is a good distraction and your presence is a welcoming discovery.

“How is it?”

“What?”

The blonde’s finger points at the piece of gold still hanging on your neck, you’re just glad it’s her other hand as you look back and forth between her and the medal.

“You won enough to know how it is”

“It’s my first Olympics”

“In Italian there’s a word, I don’t know if you have the same difference in Spanish. It’s olimpionico and it’s not like olimpico – olympic”

“You never go for the straight answer, do you?”, she interrupts you with a teasing smile.

“No, never done anything the straight way my entire life, now let me go on with my wise and deep talk”, you graciously – and quite bravely on your part, if you must say so yourself – drop your arm around her shoulder, releasing a breath as she smoothly adjusts her body closer.

“Olimpionico is formed from the Greek ᾿Ολύμπια, which means ‘competitions of Olympia’ so our Olympic Games, and the root of νικάω, that I don’t know to explain how but can be translated with ‘victory’ or ‘winner’ and you have to trust me on this one”, you’ve never been happier with your strict education and the Italian questionable school system.

“I’m still waiting for the point”

“I mean to say we have a specific word for an Olympic athlete who doesn’t just compete in the Olympic Games but actually wins”

“You won enough Olympic medals to know how it is”

“The last time we won bronze as a team and I lost the gold against the obnoxious Frenchwoman, Alexia, keep up”, you’re perfectly aware of her hand on your thigh and her eyes burning on your face – she definitely noticed your red cheeks and the cracks on your walls.

“It’s my first Individual gold and this is my first Team gold, it’s– I don’t know how to explain, but it’s–”

“It’s olimpionico?”, she indulges you, her accent around the Italian word is way more charming than the French one.

“You get it”

“Olympic Champion sounds so uncool now”

As the night turns into a darker shade of black and the Paris lights really do the city’s name justice, you feel like there’s something profound linking you with the athlete curled on your side.

It’s a shared desire to prove yourself to everyone, while wanting to make just a few close people proud. It’s a shared hunger to be the best among some of the greatest, but to make sure the ones around you shine as much.

It’s a shared feeling, deep inside, telling you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas #fencer!reader #woso #olympics au #ap11 #here we go again #hope you like it #even if you dont care about fencing #my wo(rd)so

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