#blot!reader

[prettybugsinbandages]

When they all arrived in Twisted Wonderland, the reactions varied wildly; Irritation, indifference, curiosity, empathy, pity, disgust, admiration. All directed towards them—The Yuus. Not you. You didn't even seem to exist.

You aren't important. At least not enough to be a protagonist in this story all seven of them are living in.

The realization that you're alone in this world seems to hit like ice cold water dumped over your head and the chill of it creeps into your heart, freezing your veins and arteries.

You arrived the same way they did: Another world, no magic, the black carriage ride that would've seemed like a lifetime opportunity. But you aren't like the Yuus. You can't muster the determination and resolve they have to push through this unfamiliar terrain without much of a reaction. In fact, you cannot even begin to understand why none of them are upset about this.

Why? You find yourself asking over and over again and the question echoes relentlessly in your mind. Why aren't they grieving everything they've lost? Because you can't seem to stop thinking about it—Everything you've ever amounted to is gone. All your relationships, achievements, successes and lessons. Everything you've built is gone like a dream. Erased in an instant.

Hundreds—no—thousands of eyes stare at all of you. You don't have time to think about how beautiful they are. You've been stripped bare and raw of everything that ever made you you. You've been killed without ever physically dying.

As you struggle to adjust into this unfamiliar world, you can't help but admire others you share Ramshackle with. They're strong and determined, truly remarkable individuals. Charismatic and brave, they seem like the type of fictional characters the fanbase would adore—praised for the grit and unyielding stubbornness they display valiantly. Even the other students of magic descent respect them.

Sometimes you lie awake in your room—rundown and shabby, but improving. Together you're slowly transforming the dorm into something livable, maybe even inviting. During moments like these you find deep appreciation within yourself for the other seven that arrived with you. In vulnerable moments like this, they aren't companions; they're a lifeline.

Then there's you—a playground rock next to shining gems on pedestals. They reassure you that you're important. But nobody outside these croaking walls seems to believe that. The frustration builds sometimes, a tight knot in your chest just twisting and turning, and inevitably only knotting more. Curled up on the creaky floor, clutching your hair while staring wide-eyed at a single spot as if that floorboard specifically caused all of this. Tears don't seem to come; instead, you sit there, taking deep, shuddering breaths, lost in a sea of thoughts that you're drowning in.

Why? Why are you treated like a Ramshackle ghost—or even less? You all share the same origin, the same story of loss and these faux "New beginnings", so what makes you so different, so unappealing that nobody seems to want to spare more time than polite? Is it because of the fear that grips your heart? Its clutch is tight and cold, holding you to this new world full of threats hidden behind the guise of beautiful and new magic you didn't have back home.

The mesmerizing people that wield such pretty magic can control bodies while leaving consciousness intact—or the opposite. The idea of someone with malicious intent having that power over you is a chilling nightmare. You cannot simply compete for your own safety.

The inhabitants of Twisted Wonderland are simply stronger. Not just the fae, mers, or beastpeople, but even the humans. Their bodies are resilient, able to shrug off low-level magic that would leave you bloody or bruised.

At times you wonder why exactly nobody seems to care enough to remember you and there are moments when you find yourself gazing in the mirror, only met with an unfamiliar face. The reflection you're met with isn't quite yours—it's something darker, something hollow. A shadow, endless and consuming, its eyes locking with yours with an unnerving intensity. That smile, twisted in ways that were once pretty, no longer feels like it belongs on your face.

It's almost as you though you're looking at an echo of yourself, a distorted version that somehow feels both foreign and familiar, comforting in its familiarity but unsettling in its wrongness.

You blink, and the reflection moves. Just a slight shift, a creeping inch closer to the glass, closer than where you stand in reality. Your heart leaps into your throat, panic surging through you as you back away, tearing yourself from the bathroom and your own gaze. You slam the door behind you, leaning against its cold, worn surface. But even as the chill presses against your skin, it does nothing to calm the racing of your heart. The sleep deprivation is wearing you thin, and the hallucinations are becoming harder to ignore, more frequent, more real.

Ace's eyes narrow as you attempt to make small talk in the Ramshackle kitchen. He's friends with all the Yuus and quite close with them all. Deuce lingers somewhere nearby and you can hear his footsteps clomping around as he chases Grim. A soundtrack you've grown familiar with over time.

"—so yeah. He totally shrugged us off. Said we weren't 'big kid' enough to know what was going on." Ace rants, throwing his arms up in exasperation before running a hand through shaggy locks, his scarlet eyes met your own briefly before he continued rambling about something that had happened today in physed. His words swirl around you, filled with the day's energy, yet never fully reaching.

You always liked when the Adeuce duo visited. They were really only here for the others and you knew it, of course. If you remain in your room when they visit, neither boy will seek you out. They only included you in their escapades when you're right there—an afterthought. It felt cruel, like an unspoken rule of polite indifference. Nobody hated you, you just weren't important.

Deuce poked his face into the room, offering a polite wave as he rummaged through the fridge for a snack before leaning against the counter as he watched you make lunch. His expression is thoughtful and only vaguely curious.

"You don't really do anything, do you?" The words slipped out like a quiet curiosity that cut deeper than he likely intended. It's not a jab, just a question. Maybe that makes it hurt more. You felt like a rarely regarded lamp in a corner, the bulb long burned out, the shade dusty and untouched, and a soft light no longer emit from it.

You awkwardly muster a smile and try to respond—to list a reason you're worth more attention than you receive, but your voice falters. Before you can say a word, Grim streaks across the table, scattering papers and bunching up the cheap cloth. One paw hits Ace in the face and Deuce barely manages to avoid a fall with the creature darting between his legs.

Both boys shoot up, laughter and curses ringing out through the dorm as they chase Grim out of the room. You're left in the quiet, the emptiness settling over you like dust—suffocating and dull. The buzz of the kitchen light hums in the silence, a low, monotonous sound that only seems to heighten the irritation building inside. It's the kind of anger that feels pointless, but it consumes you anyway, making you feel unbearably stagnant.

Your eyes are locked on the tiles beneath your feet, the stark off-whiteness almost glaring under the dim light. You stare so intensely that your eyes begin to sting, but you can't bring yourself to look away. Something feels off, something is off.

And then, it hits you. Your oldest companion—the one constant presence you could always count on—has abandoned you. Your shadow is gone. For a fleeting moment, you feel exposed, like the absence of it leaves you vulnerable. You almost want to reach out, to search for it, but there's nothing there. The realization leaves you with a cold, sinking feeling, and the silence suddenly feels oppressive.

Your gaze pulls away from the tiles, heart racing, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling. Turning back to the counter, you expect to regain a semblance of calm. But as you do, something catches your eye—your shadow is cast strangely, distorted in a way you don't recall. Paranoia gnaws at you, the question unanswered. Was it always like this? You couldn't even remember.

Before you could process it any further, you hear Yuuken's voice, calling you from down the hall, asking for help with the renovations.

Engaging with anyone here was an uphill battle—woundingly difficult. The conversations seem one sided, his interest always fleeting as if there's nothing about you that's all that interesting. You're invisible. Once again, feeling like a ghost, a nameless background character in a story you were pasted into, into a story that you weren't even supposed to be dragged into.

What cuts deeper like a blade into the fat layer is the reality that you're not just standing idle. You're there in the overblots, fighting every battle as if you were qualified despite being dastardly unfit for this work. Fighting just as fiercely for people who don't even dare to acknowledge your existence for longer than necessary. You've pulled people to safety, pushed others out of the way of dangerous attacks and when it's all over you're tending to the injured, soothing the boy whose overblotted until he comes to. Yet when he wakes his eyes are darting for someone else.

All you want—all you need—is a simple acknowledgement. A thanks.

Yuu is injured but so are you. "What about me?" The words slip out before you can stop them

"What about you?" He repeats as his eyes rake over your crumpled form; battered and broken.

His voice is distant, edged with a vague obligation of care or pity. "You're hurt. Staff and paramedics will be here soon. Stay put." You would've felt your heart swell to feel any sort of acknowledgement and being withdrawn from your lonely bubble but he goes ahead and says that to everyone else and the hope sputters out and fades away. Are you merely another faceless voice in the crowd?

But he's beside Yuuka and her friends, thanking them tending to the others, offering words of comfort and appreciation and a hot surge of jealousy envelops you for only a fleeting moment before it cools almost immediately. It's not Yuu's fault. She's stumbling over words, eyes darting between you and him, desperately trying to redirect all the praise.

"They helped a lot too. Don't worry about me. Please—they took a lot of hits for the team—" her voice is rushed, earnest. She sees you. She knows.

But you're numb. The words wash over you, leaving you staring blankly. Your focus sharpens as you watch him, the indifference cutting deeper than any wound from battle.

It's not Yuu's fault, you think, the realization like a blade. And it's not mine either.

Your eyes harden, the simmering negativity solidifying into something darker—hatred for this world and its unforgiving, selective gaze.

The Blot's words wrapped around you like velvet, warm and inviting. Each word a whisper, and just beyond your comprehension. It spoke in a language too rich, too layered for you to fully grasp, yet you found yourself managing a nod and agreeing to flowery promises barely understood.

Home seems too far now, a vague dream you once had a long time ago that's memories grow dim within your worn mind. Crowley's so-called "research" moves at a snail's pace, each reassurance vague and hollow with no weight behind it. They have housewardens, heirs, socialites, all silently pining to have them by their side in the end. The others have people who want them here.

When graduation comes, you know you'll be alone. No citizenship, no comforting embrace after a long day, no government papers to properly own a home, and no magic to shield you.

A higher education was beyond your reach without the proper credentials. You could aim for a trade but no reputable company would hire a ghost in the system without insurance. Shadier paths were on the table for you but you didn't want to hurt innocent people and you weren't ready to die. Not yet.

"You promise?" The words rasped from your throat, a fragile plea to the pitch-black figure—it smiles.

Snowflakes gathered on your broken body, frostbite gnawed at your fingertips and toes. The cold seeped deep, pressing kisses to your very bone marrow. The results of the accident are chilling, your body numb and your mind blocking the pain out.

"You'd accept even if I won't, darling." It purred, voice dripping with amusement and leaning over your mangled body. Once again you looked like broken porcelain. Doll carnage—too pretty to die in its eyes.

"You're going to die in that stupid uniform." It reminds with a melodious laugh escaping it, crouching so unseen eyes met yours and the empty gaze felt cold like a harpoon through your skull.

A response doesn't form just yet, instead your words linger on time quickly slipping away. "You'll make me live?"

"You make it sound like a punishment."

"It could be."

Its grin only widened. "I'll make you thrive—I'll sponsor you. Only to test magicless bodies, of course. You're soaked with hatred, my dove—enough to feed me for centuries and I just might be able to use all that to give you some fancy powers," The Blot chimed and waves it's hands around with a lighthearted laugh as if you're not mangled and dying right now.

You muster a nod and your vision is blurring quickly, adrenaline settling in as your blood pumped quickly to get you up, away from the charming danger you'd shake hands with if your body was capable of movement.

"I've waited too long.." It murmured softly, a hint of cruel reverence sends a shiver runs down your spine as the Blot's presence looms closer, its hands—tender, almost too tender—brush away strands of hair from your face, as if trying to soothe the tension there. Your body trembles under the weight of its touch, that impossible softness juxtaposed with the suffocating darkness that clings to it. The Blot's dark hands reach for you, wrapping around your shoulder and back to prop you up, not in malice but in something more unsettling, as though its cradling you like something fragile, something it fears may break at the breeze.

It laughs, a low, melodious sound, "Even a worm will turn," it murmurs under its breath, the words curling into your mind, buzzing like static. You can't focus on anything other than the overwhelming presence of it, the heat of its breath a nearly welcome sensation against the stinging snow, slowly burying you.

It'd been a few days since the accident—now you walk the halls, your feet knowing the path subconsciously as your eyes linger on the jewelry again, the weight of it palpable on your finger. The design is intricate, just as you'd always admired—luxurious without tipping over into excess, a perfect balance of elegance. But it's the stone at its center that pulls at you, black as the void. It swallows light, reflecting nothing but its own cold depth, as if it has its own consciousness. You feel it almost stare back at you.

A scoff slips past your lips, quiet but bitter. On your left ring finger... really? The symbolism is unmistakable, painfully so. The left ring finger—a spot traditionally reserved for unions of love, a mark that binds two hearts together. But for you, it's a symbol of something far more suffocating. This ring doesn't speak of affection or choice. It speaks of a contract. A binding agreement you were coerced into on the brink of death.

You'd like to think that in a normal situation you would've denied it but a voice in the back of your consciousness rejects that. You know you would have taken the deal.

Yuuta's voice comes from behind, cutting through the weight of your thoughts. You don't flinch, but his sudden presence forces you back into reality. His usual smile is present, though there's something different in his eyes today—a worry you can't quite ignore.

"Hey! You walk fast-" He pants, falling into step beside you. "Doing anything for lunch? Me and the others are... honestly really worried about you. Ever since you came back a few days ago from that night-blizzard-walk.. you've been off." His voice drops slightly as he tilts his head to try and meet your gaze.

It's hard to resist his pleading look. Yuuta has a way of being both persistent and comforting, and something about him makes you swallow your usual refusal. You nod, even though you'd planned to stay alone, to work through your thoughts—thoughts about the Blot, the contract, and the strange shift in the world since you'd returned.

Sighing inwardly, you follow him to the familiar table. As you lower yourself onto the bench, your thoughts stills scattered, the sound of something unpleasant catches you off guard—a soft, squishy noise. You frown, reaching down to find a purple whoopie cushion beneath you.

Before you can say anything, Ace's laughter rings out, easily cutting through the table's chatter. "I told you it'd work! They're always in their own world, seriously."

Epel's high-five to Ace is audible, and you can almost feel their amusement. Deuce, on the other hand, shoots Ace a disapproving look. "A whoopie cushion? What are you, twelve?"

Ace chuckles, standing and grabbing the whoopie cushion from your hands before glancing back at the others, a mischievous grin still present on his face. "Firstly, I saw you laugh too, and hey, what can I say? I'm a guy who appreciates the classics." His crimson eyes flick to you, and before you can even process it, he taps the cushion gently on your head a few times. "Real spacey lately, huh?"

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you freeze. Spacey. They're speaking first. They're acknowledging you first. After everything, after how invisible you've felt... now they decide to reach out?

Anger grows in your chest but you quickly suppress it. Your fingers instinctively brush the blot ring on your finger, feelings its cold weight. Thrive. The Blot's promise. The smile and soft words is the only thing you can offer right now, even if it feels a little too forced, too foreign on your face.

"Have I been?" You ask, the words coming out light and easygoing. "It's difficult to sleep in a rickety, haunted dorm. You and the others should sleepover more. I like the background noise."

It wasn't a full lie. You did feel less lonely when they visited, but the feeling only increased tenfold when you could hear everyone downstairs while you remained forgotten in your room. Still, you left the invitation open.

Just you wait. You thought, your smile dimming as Ace returned to his spot and the conversation flowed, your earlier anxieties and insecurities nulled by the ring thanks to the contract.

You'll ease yourself into their lives, each thread slipping through the spaces between them, invisible but vital. Not just the ones at the table, but everyone you've fought for, the ones who've forgotten you, the ones who've never seen you or bothered to try. You'll become a part of them so intertwined that they'll find it impossible to live without seeing you in every aspect of their days and nights.

In time, you'll make sure of it. You'll be everywhere—in their laughter, in their sorrows, in the smallest moments, the ones they think they can forget. They'll breathe you in without even realizing, and soon, every part of their lives will have a thread of you running through it. You'll be their lifeline.

srry if its not the cute, comforting lovestory you were expecting lol

I'm sorta leaving it on an open end here to keep you all guessing ig lol. I can probably write separate minifics or whatever for this au I made or drabbles or maybe even a second chapter if anyone wants.

I wrote this in November and am posting it now so that was my procrastination ig

I've been sitting on this idea with no motivation to write it for probably two years so spare with me if it doesn't make sense or it's no good.

First time writing for tumblr and I haven't written outside of my notes app in a long time lol

[cup1dt3a]

The Beckoning Call of the Darkness

Summary: It was all so fast one minute you’re walking back home then the next you’re being dragged by an inky substance to another peculiar world.

TW: Describes drowning and throwing up

You bit the side of your cheek as you looked at the money in your hand. Your stomach churned with guilt. You know it was wrong to steal from your friend, but you were too prideful to admit that your family went into debt and have barely been getting by… You frowned as the thought of you having to slowly sell half of your belongings ran through your mind once again. Putting those thoughts aside with a sigh you soon looked around yourself. It was late at night you currently were on a bench in the middle of the sidewalk waiting for your parents to pick you up. Usually you walked home, but due to the pouring rain and many tornado warnings you’ve been getting you felt safer with your mother coming to pick you up. It was too dangerous to really walk home especially ,since this was the more sketchy part of town. 

Tapping your hands on the cold metal of the benches arm rest as the droplets of shatter puttered and pattered on your old umbrella a sudden chill ran down your spine. You looked behind yourself only to see the Mystery Manor. It was an old broken down mansion left behind by a rich couple who had abandoned it presumably due to them being caught for tax evasion others thought they went missing in the 1970’s. Due to the place being in their name still to this day but their faces never seen again. The place hadn’t been touched since, until now. Months ago several students had gone missing with all of them mysteriously being reported near it or going into the abandoned Manner. Nobody knows or could even find out why all several of them went there. 

You felt anxious even being near the house as the harsh winds bumped into the police tape surrounding the house. You continued to tap even more looking for your mom soon texting her, but due to having no connection to the internet or anything at all you were left with your anxiety. This was great just great. You’re alone in a sketchy neighborhood, you stole from your friends, the weather is getting worse, and you’re all alone. 

Your tapping continues now in your foot as your eyes kept darting around. Looking back and forth. You felt as if something was watching you. Before you could look behind yourself soon a huge streak of lightening struck right next to you causing you to scream as you fled the bench. You ran as more and more dangerously close streaks of lightening continued struck the ground you fled to the nearest shelter you could find. It didn’t matter where.  You banged on the door that immediately broke causing you to crash inside the hard creaking wooden floor.

You grunted in pain as you crashed down onto the wooden floor knocking the air out of you. Taking a minute to catch your breath you begin to look around wincing from the pain and at the door you broke. This place must be old if you could have broken the door down so easily. As you got up, to take everything in the house looked pretty nice to be honest. For some odd reason the voice in your head was telling you to look around. As if on command you started to venture through the dusty house. There were manny dust covered pictures as you ventured throughout the house. The furniture was draped over with off white colored sheets due to years of never being washed. As you continued to look around just aimlessly wondering you soon were upstairs. Ignoring the many things out of place like the bright broken police tape wrapped around the pole on the staircase. In any other situation you’d be feeling the house trying to call your mother, but for some odd reason you felt as if something here was beckoning you to go to it. Continued to walk up the stairs each creaked under the weight of your foot almost like they were trying to tell you not to go through. Once at the top of the stairs you wondered throughout the dark grey halls. Some of the wallpaper was slowly ripping off, cobwebs, and bugs crawling across the dusty walls. But still you somehow paid no mind to it only trying to go to whatever was calling you. It was like a comforting humming of a familiar song. The voice was deep and very smooth. It was hypnotic in a way as you followed where you presumed the humming was coming from.

Continuing to wonder through the narrowing hallway you seen reached a room. It seemed like an old bedroom. Filled with cobwebs, dust, ripped up blue wallpaper, but something stood out to you. It was a golden mirror with an odd design around it. You walked to it ignoring all of your surroundings as the wind rattled the old cracked windows. But soon a bright glow emitted from the mirror blinding you for a second before a hand reached out to you. This wasn’t a normal hand at all, it was covered in ink. The ink dropped down onto the white desk as it reached out for you. Beckoning for you to take it in a glitching and deep voice with the two candles beside the mirror flickering  a bright green flame. 

You soon snapped out of the daze now full of fear. Before you even had any time to react the hand inky hand grabbed yours. It was too late to do anything as you screamed.

Dragged into nothing but an inky darkness. It was like quick sand and water. The more you struggled the faster you sank. The black waves kept hitting you harshly as if trying to knock you down. You tried to grab out at anything you could in hopes to getting out of the sticky ink. You managed to keep yourself buoyant for a second. You saw the mirror right in-front of you the broken old house was just in your reach as you grabbed out to the desk. Only to suddenly feel something wrapped around your waist and foot restrain you dragging you back under. The ink was literally dragging your feet down as you struggled up to the surface. Going further down you could breathe at all as the ink got into your lungs like a thick sap suffocating you. Just as quick as the ink dragged you down it soon dragged you all the way down. 

Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like years as you lost consciousness. Soon you got spit out onto a cold surface. Jolting you out of your passed out state immediately you choked up and spat out the horrific black substance. It was at least a pile of it. It felt sour and burnt your lungs as it fell out in large globs into the puddle. After a whole five minutes, you felt tired and about to pass out again as your vision blurred. 

There were echoing foot steps that soon followed as your eyes closed. All you could make out was a red-like blob and a blur. You could only make out the words

“Looks like another one bites the dust.” The cheeky voice chuckled.

Thank you all so much for reading this! This is my new series called the Isle of the Blot. It will be tagged that if anyone is interested in finding it. Any art I use in my series is mine.

Hope you’re all doing well and having a good day! @simping-on-the-daily

sincerely-Cupid 💖

[inkblot22]

How would vil feel if we ended up commiting suicide somehow

I'm going to assume this is in relation to the fic I recently posted. The answer is going under a cut!

Vil would lose it. Everyone deals with grief in a different way, and with Vil, he'd become more cruel and easy to offend. He turns one of his late darling's old shirts into a pillow, using stuffing from the very same that they used to lay their head on, cut a lock of their hair and keep it in a locket, close to his heart, and I'm sure you can imagine that he'd get incredibly touchy at the very mention of them.

He's not one to brood but he starts brooding. Every so often, he seems fine (he's a good actor,) but then it's like a dark cloud is cast over the room. It's impossible to talk to him about it, since that's a point in which he is more likely to snap at someone.

To put it as simply as possible, he takes it very hard. Regardless of his brutal actions, I think he would be one of the few twst boys to actually love his darling in some capacity. He only swept up his darling so he could keep them safe, but now they're gone and under his care as well. It's a blow to both his heart and his ego, and it leads to many sleepless nights where he thinks of them.

[masterhallmark]

Ugh, I do this so much with so many characters

Phantom Blot x FemReader headcanons

Some of them are gender nuetral

CW: Brief Kidnapping mention

He stumbles upon you while scouting out a place he's planning to rob, and strikes up small talk to avoid suspicion.

Bonus idea: He's having a rare outing with his daughter, who immediately tries to pull an Anya from SpyXFamily and act as a wingman, "Oh, Dad, I want a Mommy...how about her?" "...What?"

He is surprised how smart you were. Not a super genius like himself, but smarter than most of the residents of Mouseton. Surely someone who would be nice to have around... Seems like he's going to be stealing more than he originally planned, because normal dating clearly isn't an option since his mugshot is everywhere. Yeah, you're getting kidnapped in the "nicest" way he can muster.

He tries very hard to win you over once he has you in his lair (and you calm down). He promises fortune, power, fame if you want it, luxuries beyond your wildest dreams, anything else you want to hear. All you have to do is be his. If this doesn't work, he's not afraid to subtly threaten you, too. He is a villain after all.

Should you accept his advances, he does his best to keep you a secret, just as he tried to keep his daughter a secret. He can't risk any other villains using you as a hostage.

He makes a hidden room for you to hide in whenever there are unwanted guests, complete with an emergency exit.

He's charming, acting like a complete gentleman, but you could never fully trust him. You're no fool, you know what he is.

He does genuinely try to spoil you, occasionally stealing a few extra necklaces and letting you pick some before selling the rest on the black market. He'll also steal high-end clothing, and sometimes... he'll actually BUY something.

He doesn't use pet names often, but when he does, he tries to stick to the "blot" theme. "My little spot" is a go to for when he's trying to butter you up. You catch on to this and after a while start to respond to "My little spot" with "What are you up to?"

If he starts calling you his queen or empress, it means he's got a world domination plan going on. These are his world domination specific petnames.

Oh, you'd better be ready to hear all his evil monologues, hear him complain about the other villains, etc. He's been needing someone he can vent to for YEARS.

He won't admit it, but he likes cuddles and other forms of physical affection. He wasn't given nearly enough affection as a child.

Oh, cool! He made robots to do all the chores and...turn into a robot suit for him to use? (Darkenblot reference)

He told his daughter he "saved this princess from a dragon" btw.

His daughter is a sweetheart. You would die for this child. It breaks your heart you have to lie and paint The Blot as the good guy and hide the fact he's actually a criminal mastermind. You don't see her too often since she's in the care of Mrs. Fragmuffin, but The Blot spoils her rotten, snd she starts calling you "Mommy" right away.

[rahhhrahhrahhh]

Okay, I don't know if it will spark or not your creativity but if not don't worry, I got PLENTY of inspiration, first of all I'm an idia stan so you can expect a lot of idia and platonic ortho with me x)

So could I please ask for idia with a gn or fem s/o, whatever you wish, and his s/o never understood why blot is considered dangerous as they/she was raised by a blot entity that took a liking to them/her (and of course the blot had some brain left) and plot twist being so exposed to blot made them/her a chimeria half human half blot ! (Ortho is shown to be able to sense blot so maybe ortho was curious why they/she had such an high level of constant blot without overblotting) bonus point if /!\ chapter 6 and 7 spoiler /!\ idia bring her to styx and somehow get found out by his parents and have to explain why does he date a chimeria half blot, and how they/she are so polite

Maybe I ranted a bit too much or went too specific so feel free to cut off some parts x)

im going to name you blue blorbo or idia anon from now on

[ Went completely off chart so I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted!]

Tw: none that I can think of, just fluff!

Blot-chimera!reader x Idia shroud

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙

You met Idia when you were fairly young, outside of his family's estate. You were playing in the forest nearby and he heard your cheerful laughter. Leaving his stuffed toys on the front lawn and out the gates, he ventured through the trees. Ortho was inside taking a nap so he was on his own, with only the sunlight guiding him.

But then

He saw you.

you looked so sweet, dancing around a small clearing in the woods. He didn't notice the blot monster lurking nearby, focusing only on you and how your laughter rung in his ears.

You heard a twig snap and gasped, finally noticing the blue haired boy. You looked at him curiously, not very spooked as to see he was a child, like you! You smiled and waved, walking over to him.

He took a step back, and you a step forward. Back, forward, back, forward, back until you had his back against a tree. You leaned in closely to admire him, his breath hitched.

"hi! My name's (name)! What's yours?"

You said, taking his hand in yours and shaking it. It took him a moment to process what was going on.

"uhm.. idia.." he replied quietly. You giggled and led him back to the small clearing "nice too meet you Idia! Would you like to play with me?"

"..sure.."

And thats were your friendship started

He'd often come over for play dates and the like, back before Ortho had the incident. His parents often wondering where he was going but didn't stop him. knowing the forest was safe and it was nearby, plus they had the tracking chip and his cellphone Incase he needed them.

But he did eventually Introduce you to his family, and boy were his parents surprised. They were wary of you at first but slowly warmed up, seeing you had no Ill intent but you did seem different from most kids.. you seemed sweet although, where were your parents?

Ortho loved you right away! He'd follow you and Idia everywhere! Playing, laughing, and laying on the grass admiring the stars.

You were there for him through everything, comforting him, giving him advice and listened to his woes.

You were his saviour, his safe space, never questioning why your blood was darker than most, unnaturally so. Your skin seeming sickly in a way. Or that strange feeling of dread he'd get when you came too close.

Eventually, he had to leave for nrc. You were upset ofcourse but you wanted him to be successful, promising him you'd be here when he came back.

And through those 4 years, you'd wait for him. The first to greet him when he'd come back from Winter break or summer vacation. The first to take him into your arms and tell him how much you missed him. The first person he'd rant to about the year.

But now he knew why he always felt strange when you'd get too close. Why you seemed different.. no, are different... He'd seen it in his fellow schoolmates.

You weren't fully human.. were you, sweetheart?

When he confronted you, you didn't know how to respond. Knowing you couldn't hide it forever but at the same time afraid of losing the one you held close. blurting it all out through tears, he finally pieced everything together. Getting the closure he needed after all these years

he held you close, shaky hands hesitantly petting your head. Now you were the one needing to be comforted. Telling him about how your parents dissapeared one night and were left all alone in your cabin in the woods, until a blot monster found you. Taking you in and raising you as its own, having been exposed to it for so many years it wasn't a surprise that it tainted your human genetics.

You cried about how you never went to a school, or a doctor, never having been let far from the forest. He nodded and squeezes you softly, calming down a bit as the only noises leaving your lips now we're hiccups and sniffling.

You were something completely different from him. A new interspecies that should be examined, something incredibly rare. But he didn't have the heart to do that to you. You were far too special, you needed to be protected.

"I promise.. to keep you s-safe and warm.. for the rest of our lives.. I've loved you for so long, (name)-chan.. I want to be with you.. s-so please accept my love..?"

His voice surprised you, looking up at him with wife curious eyes.

He said it so unsurely, you couldn't help but smile and nod your head. Burying your face into his chest, while he finally noticed the blot creature watching you both. It nodded it's head in approval and dissapeared into the dark. The dread was gone, Being replaced with happiness and relief. He picked you up and hurriedly took you into his family's mansion. Laughing loudly.

He was glad he was brave the day he met you, wandering away from his comfort zone. Otherwise, he doubted he'd have someone so perfect in his arms

[NOT PROOFREAD AND IS UNEDITED. I WILL REVIEW LATER!]

Tags: @twistedtavern

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

I dont know if someone already asked this, but imagine during the Proluge when Yuu, Grim, Ace and Deuce met the blot ghost, Yuu got in contact with a little portion of blot, but it disappeared quikly into their body so nobody noticed.

Then during the coming Overblots of the (vice)housewarden the Blot in Yuu's body would evolute themselve into more a symbiot to Yuu kinda like Venom but the Blot cant speak.

So Yuu could be able to do all the things that Venom can do (hope you know who i mean or else this would be kinda awkard 😅)

And so Yuu wouldnt really be able to overblot since it's a part of them already

Thats kinda like the concept of my Yuu

I have more things i could talk about this AU, if you are interested ofcourse

Have a nice day/night 😊

Hey hey we talked about a venom Yuu along with a more Blot Monster Yuu that has their own tag! I think you would appreciate it! I love Yuus like this

[s0dium]

Sex Pollen

Geto x F!Reader

A/n: This was pulled out from the depths of my fantasies

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Oh no! You and Geto get hit by an aphrodisiac curse technique on a mission!! What should you do now?

Warning: Breeding, masturbation, begging, mating press, rough sex, desperate sex, marathon sex, doggy, squirting

You think there's something wrong with you. Something feels off, you feel off, rather, you feel hot.

You bolt upright in your bed, flinging the sheets away as if a second more underneath them would burn you. No, something was definitely off. Your mind buzzed, and it couldn't be from the adrenaline of the mission, that was hours ago, it was midnight now.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your room and you bit inside of your cheek. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that draped over your limbs—it was something else, something deeper and more consuming. The air around you felt thicker, every breath you took seemed laced with a heavy, intoxicating warmth. You press a hand to your forehead, trying to quell the rising temperature of your skin, but it provides little relief.

A creeping heat suffuses your body and an unmistakable pulse emanates from your core.

Where you.... Turned on?

A sickly-warm-funny feeling bubbles in your stomach and you're becoming aware of how your skin is starting to stick to your tank top and that the cloth between your legs feels....wet?

Hesitantly, you snake a hand under your waistband and underwear, releasing a small gasp when your skin makes contact with your arousal. You're soaked.

Why is this happening, why now? Your mind races through the events of the previous day. It was mainly just you and Geto on a mission, one like any other—find the curse, exorcise, clean up the mess. Could it be the technique you were hit with?

Could Geto be feeling this too?

Your heart jumps at the thought but you try to shake it off. You know you should get up, wake up Shoko, wake up Geto even, but you can't seem to will your legs to move. Your mind was is just too occupied with something else, the promise of something sweeter, something that is making the funny feeling in your stomach spread.

Without much of a thought, you press an index finger on your throbbing clit, garnering a sharp sigh from you. Just from that simple touch pleasure ripples through your body, making your toes curl. You do the movement again except this time you start drawing light circles on the sensitive nub. You can feel yourself squeeze around nothing from your own ministrations, bliss clouding your hazy mind.

It wasn't enough though. You needed more.

You dart your tongue across your lips and try to focus on the pleasure, on getting some relief. You try to dip one of your fingers inside your hole while continuing the ministrations on your clit with your other hand, but it proves too difficult, your fingers are too small.

Tears blotted your eyes from frustration, letting out a soft whine from the relentless heat that continued to rack your body. Oh how you wish you had someone else to help you, oh how you wish Geto was here.

Your core throbs at the thought. Yes, that was it, he is what you need. You resume your ministrations this time focusing on the euphoric thought of Geto suguru. He would be so good to you wouldn't he be? Oh you bet he'd fill you up so well too, fuck you just right, get rid of this painful arousal, and fill your mind with only pleasure. He would probably talk you through it too, let you pull and tug on his long black hair oh you can practically feel his hands on you right now, so big and warm.

You don't even realize that you are loudly moaning Geto's name at this point, too busy trying to grapple with the searing heat coursing through your veins. You feel like your body is surrounded by an invisible flame, fuck it feels like you are going to die. The room around you blurs into insignificance, as your thoughts fixate solely on your Geto Suguru, his absence a gaping void that echoes through your heightened senses. You feel a desperate craving, a pull so strong it borders on physical pain, rendering you breathless and sobbing for his touch, his presence.

"Suguru, please...." you gasp between sobs, your voice breaking with each word. The tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you clutch your sheets.

As if on cue, the door swings open and you think that there must be a god out there listening to you because there Suguru stands, backlit by the hallway light, his broad silhouette framed in the doorway.

Before you can even get a word in he is already next to you sitting on your bed and cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Deep violet eyes examine your face as his thumb brushes away the tears on your cheek.

"I-" You choke, a wave of emotions crashing down on your mind stifling the words that desperately wanted to escape your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know baby I know," he coos kissing your forehead and tracing your jaw with his thumb. "I feel it to, but I'm gonna take care of it ok? Don't worry about a thing m'gonna take such good care of you I promise."

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your doe-eyed gaze with eyes that seems to devour you. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, encapsulating your trembling mouth in a deep, comforting kiss that steadys the chaotic beat of your heart. You sigh into the kiss and let his entangle with yours.

As the kiss deepens, he shifts slightly, his lips traveling from yours down to your neck. A soft gasp escapes you as he plants soft kisses along your skin, occasionally nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. You are so lost in the feeling of his lips that you don't even notice his hand on your inner thigh until his finger grazes your lips.

You jump at the sensation but Suguru places a light reassuring kiss on your lips

"jesus, please just, fuck, gotta get you ready just a little bit"

You shake your head quickly and place your hand on Suguru's crotch, the caress of his growing bulge making him groan.

"Please sugu, please just fuck me I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for say long," he mummurs as he pulls down his sweatpants and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white beed of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby I know Don't worry, I got you.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Ngh so goo-"

You dont get to finish the thought because he pulls out and rams back into you with such a fever everything goes blank for a second.

His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room and the sloshing sound of both of your arousals makes your eyes roll back.

You don't know what's happening, you couldn't even tell someone your own name if they asked. Your grip on the sheets was starting to get loose, tears flowing down to your cheeks, mouth hanging open with drool pooling on the sheets as you were already fucked out of your mind.

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" His breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Suguru isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. He snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls.

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," he swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  His hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. But he's not done.

Before you could recover, Suguru rolls you onto your back, in doggy, and slips into you. After the first thrust he has to hold still for a second, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would burst inside you again. But the moment of rest only lasts for a second. He resumes his brutal pace, pumping himself in and out of you. 

You are wetter then ever down there, there is no longer friction only the mind-numbing pleasure of his tip hitting your cervix again and again. 

There is no warning when he cums inside you again, you only know when you feel his cum drip down your thigh.

"Feel so good, you feel so good baby."

You're in heaven right now. Your mind has gone to a different space detached from this world. Every time Suguru pushes into you, his tip of his dick rubbed perfectly against the gummy spot in you that made your whole body shake.

“Fuckkkk… I’ll fill you up, make you a mommy, you’d like that wouldn’t you… shit.”

All you can do is dumbly nod as you felt the crescendo of your euphoria building and building. It was so hot, your skin was radiating heat and before you could say anything you were tumbling toward the end faster then you could put a stop to it.

“S’feels weird~” you babble, too fucked dumb to properly pronunciate words. 

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?” He coos, grabbing either side of your hips harder to fuck himself into you from your behind.

“Like m’gonna pee I don’t-hah-” something was pressing down on your stomach and it was overtaking your body; too fast to put a stop to it. You started to shake, abdomen clenching and mouth going into the lock jaw, tongue rolling out as you squirted clear juices everywhere.

“Oh f- good girl" He says through a groan, not stopping for a second as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him.

[chibi-celesti]

TW: Yandere, recovery

Wow! This was an emotional roller coaster of a series! You did great conveying the heroing tale Y/N went through all the way to the relief of finally returning back safe and sound. And permanently mother hen'd by everyone.

Yandere Overblot Universe Part 7 (Final)

Rules | Kofi | TWST Masterlist (3)

Mmmh….”

You’re body was full of aching, the stress of running and encountering the worst sides of your friends weighing on you so heavily you debated if you wanted to sleep more

“I would’ve gotten my henchhuman back just fine if the others hadn’t held me back!”

“Grim…you still have nightmares of the overblots don’t you?”

“W-w-what? Who do you think I am? I’m going to be one of the greatest mages of all time those guys don’t scare me!”

“Which is why you came crying to us when they went in?”

“N-n-o!”

Hearing that familiar voice and feeling those familiar paws tapping on your stomach you couldn’t help letting your lip twitch into a smile

“Aw looks like someone’s awake. Care to grace us with your presence (Y/n)?”

The egging in Jade’s voice reminded you of Floyd 

Almost like he was warning you to wake or feel the wrath of relentless tickles

So you did

“(Y/n)!”

You held Grim tightly into your chest breathing in the smell of his ash smelling fur

It never felt so good to have your lungs full of his brimstone smelling fur and not ink

Finally looking up you got to see the familiar faces of your saviors plus a growing crowd

“Don’t tell me your terrified of us again herbivore?” 

Leona’s there sitting in the chair closest to the bed next to Ace and Deuce like he’s been guarding you this whole time

“If they are they have every right. Tell me Darling what horrors were in there?” 

It’s Vil on the otherside his makeup faded around the eyes like he’s been crying 

He’s holding your hands so tightly 

“Don’ get so worried. They’re strong like me.” 

Epel chimes in with a smile, one that earns an awkward look from the Heartslabyul duo

“Not strong enough to not nearly drop them coming back.”

“Shuddap !”

“Hey hey no need to fight you guys! All that matters is that (Y/n) is safe and sound!”

Jamil doesn’t care to comment before shoving himself past Vil to lay something warm in your lap

“I figured they probably didn’t have any real food, so I made you extra.”

The savory smell made you and Grim very excited, both of you looking at the container with anticipation

“Thank you Jamil!”

He looks proud, holding his head away as if that would hide his flustered face

“No problem it’s what any good…friend would do.”

“Yes just like any good friend would insist you have tea before indulging in something heavy.”

“I’m not sure if it’s tea you should be having but something light is preferred.”

“Riddle, Azul?”

Riddle lightly bows his head in a silent apology

“I apologize for not being here when you woke but I had to ensure that the matter of this mirror was taken care of.”

You tilt your head thinking to yourself

It felt like ages ago that you had gone in expecting to follow your friends to some resort a small group was going to 

It all feels foggy

But you barely recall thinking about home 

Not ramshackle home but your home

Maybe that was why you ended up…there

“I too was working awfully hard to bar that location would never be seen by anyone ever again.”

Azul uselessly added but he was puffing his chest like Grim did when he put out his flames on his own

“Uh thanks Azul and Riddle.”

“But of course, it didn’t matter that such a thing has never happened before you. With a student’s safety at risk we couldn’t possibly still have it be accessible by any means.”

“Yes, yes you can pay me back with a small favor. When you’re better of course.”

“Uh Azul I think you forget they never asked to pay you back.”

“Yeah Azul can’t you wait until they’re not bedridden to try and scam them? That’s like such trash behavior.”

The Octavinelle dorm leader sneers at the ipad you didn’t realize was propped on the end table next to your bed

Lifting it up to look in the camera, you wait for the video chat to properly activate

Ding Ding

Finally you can see the dark expanse of his room highlighted by his screens and a small unfinished strip of blue LED lights

“Don’t turn the camera, the normies wouldn’t understand.”

You giggle, “I won’t but why isn’t Ortho here. Usually he’d be here for you!”

Idia looks off to the side as if he’s contemplating what lie he’s going to tell

“He’s just…doing stuff with the mirror. To keep you safe an all that!

“Aww well thank you too Idia! I really appreciate everyone jumping into help especially you guys!”

Looking at Jade, Ace, Deuce, and Jack who’s been sitting near the doorway of the infirmary and Cater who’s been weirdly quiet at the foot of your bed

Looking past the other dorm leaders you scrunch your brow

“Where’s Sebek and Silver? Not that I demand everyone greet me when I wake up but I want to thank them as soon as possible.”

The others collectively swoon smile at your gratitude before awkwardly avoiding your gaze

“Let’s say they needed to occupy their attention towards someone else who’s going through…a crisis.”

As if on cue the crack of thunder has everyone jumping; the sudden storm making everyone tense

Faster than you can register the door swings open and there is none other than Malleus Draconia who silently demands everyone move

Reluctantly they listen

With an unusual gentleness, he kneels on the floor to somewhat meet you at your eye-level 

Cupping your cheeks with his tingly feeling hands where were his gloves

“Are you alright prefect? Breathing? None of your small fragile limbs broken?”

You laugh as you pat your hand against his 

Your silent plea to stop squishing your face

He doesn’t listen

“I fwine Tsuno!”

He sighs resting his head into your lap, shoving Grim out of his place out of the way with his horns

“I feel ashamed. To know I could have prevented such tragedy and yet by my actions you were in danger again!”

You laugh and lightly pat his head like you would Grim

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Besides I’m sure it could’ve happened to anyone.”

Malleus involuntarily moves his tail tripping Epel who wasn’t too far

Sebek and Silver run in out of breath

“M-Master M-Malleus WE ARE HERE!”

“Glad to see you’re awake, (Y/n). You had us all worried for a second.”

You smile, “Thank you, Sebek, Silver. You guys really saved me back there if you hadn’t come–”

You didn’t want to finish and it seems like no one needed to everyone settling in there original spots around Malleus to keep talking

As if you hadn’t faced their exact inky opposites hours ago

Jack helped you with the IV in your arm, repeating something Crewel had said about refilling it of course Ace teased him about it 

“Hey everybody heads up Mama Hounds coming.”

Cater’s warning had the first-years straightening up

The dorm leaders only adjusting themselves so that no one was touching you

Wouldn’t want to be sent to detention now+

“(Y/n)-Pup glad you’re up. I see the little fan club of your remains strong. Are they bothering you by any chance?”

You could see the suffocating grip he had on his crock and the scornful twist of his face

You figured it best to take the edge off before he lashed out someone

“Uh nope. Actually Jack was telling me about the IV and stuff.”

“Hm he did? Good then, pup. The rest of you, back up! After their medicine I won’t allow you all to play watch dog so you might as well start drawing lots now.”

A collective groans fills the room as they reluctantly prepare to draw lots

Blocked by Crewel who changes your IV, checks your temperature, before walking you vaguely through the cocktail of potions and pills he needs you to take

Unable to see the group all you can tell is that every time they pick a winner a new debate is held

While you didn’t condone violence like Ace being thrown near the door, it did feel nice to be wanted? missed

And the fights being anything but the inky use of their overblotted unique magic

“That medicine should be kicking in very soon,” Crewel lays you down lovingly wiping the back of his hand over your face and cheek

Following your gaze he sees you looking at the still bickering group

Hiding his gag he turns to you with a warm smile on his face

“I’ll break it up just sleep now, my sweet pup.” He kisses the top of your head 

lingering to watch you lazily blink, submitting to the induced drowsiness

Satisfied he turns and gives the boys a single look which has them take the fighting outside

Escaping the fray is Grim

Who scampers away to curl into your side already preparing to snore right alongside

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Thanks Grim I’m happy to be back.”

“Hm,” he’s already dozing off, “I also wanted to say Grim likes you're new choker it’s kinda…cute. But not cuter than mine!”

He’s already out and you’re going over his last words

Choker?

You recall the the outfit change within Blotted Riddle’s domain and the following pain that came from it 

Thinking back on it you didn’t remember feeling choked at the neck at all

Looking down you could barely make out the small dangling rose pendant 

Instead of being held up by some inky string it was a neat simple woven piece

That didn’t feel the slightest bit restricting 

Just snug

You hold the pendant in your hand, noting it’s warmth from hanging on your neck

You search for a clip to undo it, planning to inspect it 

But alas you don’t find one and for a choker expected to stretch off of you it was hard to pull off

Even though you were struggling for a bit with it, it dawns on you just how tired you are now

Those meds were really fast

And you suspect your lack of strength to pull it off is thanks to them

Planning to do it later, you settle into the infirmary bed holding Grim close while you sleep

Finally you could rest, having survived those Overblotted friends of yours once again

Happy that you were safe with your real friends, in the real Twisted Wonderland

The Heartslabyul’s Vice dorm leader’s stomach churned at the swirling shards at his feet. Glimpses of his blotted dorm-leader’s angry glowing eyes unsettling him the most. As instructed he had his clones solemnly collect the broken pieces putting them into the various magical satchels. Lining up, each of them handed their respective satchels to the robot boy. Dutifully waiting for him to apply an unmeasurable amount of heat; reducing the shards of the mirror into a silvered, inky slop conducive with it’s magical origin.

“Mr. Crowley?  Was this…necessary?”

The headmaster’s golden eyes shifted to his student. Filling him with a sense of dread, he narrowly scraped the surface of during Riddle’s overblot. Nonetheless Crowley smiled apathetically, a faux disguise of pride as he held his hand out to the shards still being collected.

“This was entirely necessary. Our dear prefect has been plagued with the dangerous idea of using the mirrors to return home. It is through my extreme generosity that we’ve deterred them safely.”

Ortho’s attention changed from Cater’s double still taking the pouch and performing his function. A technical noise rang out his yellow eyes darting from side to side as though reading a list of stats. 

“This venture, headmaster, gave the prefect four abrasions to their forehead, a mild concussion, sprained ankle, and an insurmountable amount of aches that will leave them bedridden for approximately 3 days. I would conclude this was far from safe.”

Cater almost smiled but the guilt of the events prior to this made him feel…wrong. He had covered for Riddle; calling it a dorm-leader and vice dorm leader meeting when they went through the mirror on a weekend. Meeting up with the Octavinelle heads it felt criminal to quietly stand behind as Crowley spoke about the spell to cast on the mirror–an identical to the one they had for their dorm. Riddle, ever the observer, nodded at him in assurance. 

“This is for them. If they believe going home now is best it is our duty as their…friends to intervene.”

The small smile he gave barely soothed his spirit. The smiling dorm and vice-dorm leader of Octavinelle didn’t help. 

“Don’t fret a few small illusions to make sure they stay. Do you want them to leave, Cater?”

The sound of his name on the octopus’ slimy tongue, made him shape up. There was only one person that would make him support the strongest students’ unique magic to summon the spirits of their defeated, blotted counterparts. Only for the same person would he actually humor sending his clones to the opposite ends of the island to hide the melted shards.

“Only for you (Y/n)...We did it all for you!”

The worst part about it was that he couldn’t confess. When he held your hand the next day rattling off the hashtags made in your honor, all he could do was lie when he looked at the choker on your neck. 

The only shard remaining of a barrier to your world. Your real world.

“Why do you keep looking so guilty, Cater?”

He sighed fighting the urge to curl into your lap and cry,”Nothing I just wish I could’ve been there for you…sooner I mean.”

The smile you gave him made him swoon and want to die at the same time.

“But Cater you were there for me,” could your hand in his get any warmer,”Even if you weren’t there in the beginning it’s like I could still feel you…all of you watching after me! Like heroes prepping to save the day!”

You had no idea how right you were.

[inkblot-inc]

Just wanted to let you know I still think about a tigershark!reader and hyena!reader all the time. Hope you’re doing well!

You and me both, bud 😂

I've been enjoying my time detached from my pen and paper to spend time with my peoples n stuff, but I will say Jaws (tigershark!reader) will be seeing more action than hyena!reader in the coming weeks/months.....from how my masterdoc is looking anyways 🤓

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

35 / 2.1k / shark merman Price and remora mermaid reader for mermay :)

...

Price isn’t stupid. He knows you’ve been following him since the early morning as he makes the rounds through his favorite reef. You’re stealthing poorly—just poorly enough that he knows you’re there, but you’re still small enough to dart into the reef every time he tries to get a good look at you.

He's been ignoring you and hoping you’ll take the hint to buzz off before he makes you buzz off.

You think you’re getting the hang of sneaking up on him when you turn a corner and lose him. And then he’s sneaking up on you.

You peek around the bright lumps of coral, wondering where he’s gone, when something blots out the sunlight above. You look up to see him—the long expanse of muscle and bulk on top and the smooth shark’s tail below—as he peers down at you.

You stiffen, pressing yourself to the sandy sea floor.

He scans you with his dark eyes to determine just what kind of creature has been following him. Not a threat, decides. Even as a mer. You’re too small. Too soft. You have no teeth to speak of. How laughable. And a tiny little thing, at that.

You straighten up, watching him circle you. You’d been looking for an opportunity just like this. That’s why you were tailing him. But now that his shrewd gaze is finally on you, you feel exposed.

He takes his time inspecting you. Then he swims a wide arc around you once more and lowers his clawed as if to touch you. You force yourself to stay still, your tail curled under you on the sand.

“You’ve been following me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

Price hooks one of his claws under your chin and pulls your head lightly upwards. You slowly rise as he tilts your chin up until you're suspended in the water in front of him.

"You should be scared of me,” he says.

You settle your own hands on his wrist in contentment. You look less like a meal being evaluated and more like a kitten being scratched under the chin. "Would you like me to be scared?"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. He knows exactly what this is. You're a remora mer, which means you instinctively seek out and bond with bigger creatures. Even if that creature is an unfriendly shark mer. Surely you must know how dangerous it is to be within his reach?

"You're very big. You must be king of this reef,” you say.

He pauses as the praise washes over him. He knows how intimidating he is, and you should realize you're nothing but small, soft and fragile. But obviously your instincts for fawning and flattery are finely honed.

He can see the way your little self seems to be drawn to him. A remora mer, indeed. He's seen others like you, but they've always avoided him. He could just as easily kill you as he could accept your company.

There is something pitifully adorable about you. The way you tilt your head and expose your throat unwittingly is endearing. He knows it’s because your instincts are leading you to bond with him for the safety he provides. You're too willing.

"Do you lack the common sense to fear an apex predator?" he asks, voice low and amused.

"Yes," you respond obediently.

He can see the way your little body is pressing up to his hand, desperate to get closer. He moves his arm, gently guiding you closer to him. "Good," he rumbles softly before using two claws to stroke down the curve of your neck. "Very good. You're too small to survive my teeth, you know."

"Of course. Much too small. Your teeth are so big and sharp."

"And you're soft and weak. Soft as a piece of kelp, I bet." He gives the tip of your tail a flick, and his eyes glitter as you bob and shake out your tail fin at the touch. Fussy little creature. "You're not very good at what you're supposed to do, little mer."

You open up your eyes. "I'm not?"

"Following me for hours without even trying to ingratiate yourself to me," he growls. "You're supposed to busy yourself with my needs. Not..." He trails off as you tilt up into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand. He gives your forehead a light flick with his claw to make you pay attention. "Acting like some kind of pet."

You quickly smooth yourself down. "Of course. I know that." You dart closer, putting your small hands on his inner arm, his shoulder, his chest, inspecting him. Your fingers glide over him, brushing and scratching and plucking away bits of sea debris and dry skin. Grooming him. "I just thought you might want me to be scared of you first."

Oh. He’s enjoying this far more than he thought he would. For something so soft, you’re quite bold.

He presses on your hip to turn you slightly as you work, idly inspecting you in return. "Maybe later. Let’s see if you’re worth the effort first." He rests his chin on his other hand to watch you fuss over him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of attention on him. You dart around behind him and busy yourself with his hair next.

He leans into your touch when you start to untangle his hair. "You seem to enjoy this.”

“I do.”

“Good for you,” he drawls. "Are you good for anything else?"

"I'm good for lots of things." You move from his hair down to his tail, trying not to stare.

"Oh?" He reaches up and idly drags the back of his knuckles down your spine and over the fin there. He smirks as your fin flattens with the touch. "Like what?"

"Anything you can think of."

"Anything?" He gives a low rumble in his throat at your words. "Don't go promising favors you can't fulfill, little remora."

"Okay," you chime.

He grabs ahold of your tail fins. "And don't agree with every single thing I say, either. That makes you far too easy to manipulate."

"Yes, sir!"

He rolls his eyes. You really are a pushover. It's like you want him to be cruel to you. He lets go of your tail but twirls his fingers in the tip of your tailfins. "Is it your instincts that are making you so deferential? Or are you just a coward?"

You pretend to think about this for a moment. Then you respond, pleasantly, "Which do you prefer?"

"Mm, so you do have a brain."

"Me? No, surely that can't be. Not a thought in my head, sir. Promise."

He eyes you like a disobedient puppy. You're putting on this fairly convincing act, being a mindless, servile little thing, and it's confusing his instincts to know you're doing a fair bit of manipulation yourself to win his protection.

"Might prefer you a bit more brainless, actually," he says. He nudges the underside of your chin with his knuckle this time instead of his claw, noting how you drop what you were doing to follow the gesture as he guides you out in front of him again. "You're willing to do anything I ask, then? No questions?"

"Yes, sir.” You rest your much smaller body against his forearm again. “Anything.”

He looks down at how you submit willingly to his hand, taking in the sight of your small body pressed up against it. He feels something primal coil in his gut at the display. You let yourself fall under his control so easily. "What if I told you to open your mouth like a goldfish?" He brings his thumb up to your lip. "Would you?"

You open your mouth.

Interesting. He taps your lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "Wide," he murmurs. "Open up wide for me."

You open wider.

"Now bite."

You bite down around the tip of his thumb.

His lips twitch up into a smile at the feeling of you nibbling at him, the little scrape of your teeth. "Good. Harder."

You reposition your grip and chomp down in earnest this time. He grunts. Your teeth are smaller than his, but they're still sharp.

"There you go. Not bad for such a small mouth." He pulls it away, half-expecting you to start hollowing your cheeks on his thumb if he dawdles too long. "Have you ever had to deal with bigger fish?"

"Of course," you chirp. Like it's no big deal.

Price snorts. It's hard to imagine something like you doing anything but darting behind the nearest rock at the first sign of danger. “How many have you killed?"

"None."

"Right, I'm sure you ask them nicely to leave you alone," he says. "And do they listen?”

"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."

"And when they don't, what do you do? Do you fight back? Do you give up?"

"Well..." You wring your hands briefly. "You're going to handle it now, right? So what does it matter?"

"It matters to me." For some reason, the thought of you trying to fight back against a larger fish makes him restless. "You still need to know how to defend yourself."

You frown. "You're not going to do it for me?"

He scoffs, but you're starting to make him feel something close to concern for you. He doesn't know why the thought of you being defenseless irks him so. "Are you really that helpless? Are you really so soft that you just want me to fight all your battles for you?"

"I mean, you're a shark."

He huffs irritably at that, his annoyance with you outweighed by his annoyance with himself for feeling concerned over you. "Do you think I'm going to do everything for you just because I'm bigger and stronger?"

You smile at him, pleased.

Ah. He's the fool suddenly. He grabs you around the waist with just one of his big hands and brings you close, his voice lowering in warning. "Stop smiling, little fish."

"Okay," you chime.

"I told you to stop sounding so bloody agreeable. You make me want to bite you." He lifts you up in front of him to get a clearer look at your face. Your eyes are too wide, your smile is too sweet, your body is too flimsy. It's all infuriating to him. He’s been roaming the ocean a long time and he's grown comfortably hard and cold. You’re not changing that. "You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you? You're just going to get yourself killed one day."

You settle into his hand comfortably. "Maybe so. Can I get you anything else, boss?"

You're hopeless, he decides. With how sweet and docile you are, he feels something clawing at the inside of his chest the longer he holds you.

Instead of answering you, he fits you against his chest, into the crook of his arm. There. Better. He can keep you closer this way without having to look at your silly doe eyes.

“Not now,” he says finally. “Maybe later.”

You lean into the position, tucking into the side of his chest like you're making yourself at home. "Okay, boss."

He can’t decide if he likes you calling him that or not. He can feel the way you nestle against him, settling in comfortably and making no effort to resist. You really are too easy to control. Just a little pull and you're molded against his side. He feels you start to smooth down some of his chest scales without even thinking. Grooming him. Nice and clean. Little busybody.

He's not used to being pampered, but feeling the tension start to bleed from his muscles under your touch… maybe it’s not so bad. He glances down at you, wondering how you're able to look so contented tucked up against him. His chest rumbles as you scratch near his throat. He lets his muscles relax under your hand.

You're an annoying little thing--too innocent, too naive, too sweet, and he conveniently forgets how capable you are of convincing him of that to win him over--but it's been too damn long since he's allowed himself to be comforted.

Maybe it would be alright to let you stay with him for a little while.

...

more Price / more mer au / masterlist tag

[luveline]

I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.

—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k

“You’re really handsome.” 

Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt. 

He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.” 

“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask. 

“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”

His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt. 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say. 

“We were covered in mud.” 

“We should’ve just got naked.” 

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”

“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.” 

Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.” 

You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass. 

You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom. 

You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it. 

“Y/N?” 

You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly. 

“I hurt my neck, you scared me.” 

“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.” 

“I was in the shower!” 

“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.” 

You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.” 

Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” 

“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.” 

“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.” 

He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?” 

The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true. 

He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire. 

“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.” 

He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?” 

“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.” 

“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says. 

“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag. 

Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.

“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”

“Honey.” 

“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.” 

“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.” 

You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.” 

“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling. 

Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”

You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?” 

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.” 

You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently. 

You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.” 

“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.” 

“He brought pizza.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.” 

You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.” 

Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.” 

[inkblot22]

Idia and the expression of displeasure

Uh, shoutout to that guy who I thought was my friend, asked me if I wanted to hook up despite being over 1000 some-odd miles away, despite me being very openly not that into men and, more importantly, telling him very clearly that I have no interest in dating him specifically. You're so cool for that, man. I just love to feel like an object. The "something about me" is the crippling c-PTSD, anxiety, and possible psychotic illness rotting my brain and your reading of me as a "Creepy Goth Chick", thank you.

Anyway, I hope I was able to direct that shitty man behavior onto our beloved Idia. I did tag you, it's later on and if you'd like me to remove it, I can absolutely do so, just let me know. Also all I can think about is this vine.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

TW for verbal abuse, manipulation, emotional abuse, captivity, use of a shock collar, mention of physical abuse, Idia is an asshole, abusive relationship dynamics, lack of communication.

Idia is the type of person to believe he is pragmatic, when, in reality, he is rather mercurial. He will fly off the handle at the smallest thing but be completely unbothered by larger issues.

I imagine this could lead to a few problems for his dear, sweet partner. (By the way, I refer to Idia’s darling as his partner because that is what they have rationalized their situation to be, currently: they are Idia's captive partner. Idia doesn’t label them very often, and although he does call them his partner, he definitely sees them as an endearing pest, kind of. Despite them being there because of him, he often acts like they're a mouse or roach that popped up one day and he grew attached to.)

Idia is not the type to like striking or physically harming his partner. He’s the type to get rude and nasty, and play victim. This does not mean he doesn’t ever physically harm his partner.

See, that shock collar around their neck? We have previously established that this is connected to his technomantic energy, and his technomantic energy is connected to his inherent magic ability.

The collar is set up with a warning system. If Idia’s partner does anything he remotely dislikes or any set of pre-established actions that they are not made aware of, they will receive three low-voltage, quick-tap jolts of electricity right against the column of their pretty throat.

These actions include, but are not limited to: acting in any way to harm Ortho or Idia, attempting to harm themselves (this one had to be added after the hanger incident), walking too close to the door or the covered-up window, touching any of Idia’s current or past projects without permission, touching Idia’s gaming setup, ignoring Ortho (this only is put in place if Idia’s partner is hostile towards Ortho at any point, even just once) and refusing any food or drink given to them by Idia specifically. It's important to reiterate that Idia has not told his partner literally any of these rules. Much like the ways that some people train a dog, they have to learn the hard way.

After the three taps, Idia’s emotions and/or intentions dictate how intense the next shock is. Sometimes it’s a bored little zap, like a fourth warning to cut it out before he gets mad, sometimes it’s a rolling pulse that pulls them away from whatever they’re doing, sometimes it’s a tidal wave that literally brings them to their knees and makes them throw up. It really depends on the most annoying kidnapper in the world. 

Idia is very aware that holding this person hostage because of his own predilections and perversions is a wildly morally incorrect thing to do, but Idia also doesn’t give a steaming shit. He’s been given what he wants, having grown up as a member of the upper crust, and if he doesn’t get it given to him, he finds a way to get it.

This means that, as much as we all love him, Idia is a whiny pisslord. The second his partner doesn’t do what he wants, he’s grumbling about it, he’s whining, playing victim, getting huffy.

While that might not sound bad, please remember that Idia’s partner has a bunch of exposed wires situated with the intent of shocking them around their neck at all times, and the shock collar is connected to Idia’s emotions. While getting shocked in a more violent manner isn’t very common for them, it can still happen, and therefore it's possibly best to do a little eggshell walking.

Besides that, it’s not very pleasant to be around someone who is so volatile, even if at their most disappointed they just complain for a few hours or days. Having to deal with someone else’s displeasure in life while being more or less unable to discuss your own does not do wonders for your mental health.

Let’s go over some scenarios and the punishments connected to them.

Idia has been playing some online fighting game all day, pretty much ignoring his partner. He hears them move during a cooldown between matches, turns around in his chair, and asks demands that they come over and let him kiss them a little. Of course, Idia’s partner declines. In this situation, Idia would usually get upset and complain about it for a while, name calling included. His words and mood definitely have the vibe of, “How dare you breathe around me and then not let me touch and kiss you. That’s just leading me on, breathing around me.”

Idia’s partner made some cup noodles while Idia was taking a nap after he raged all night and well into the afternoon. He wakes up and sees them sitting in his gaming chair, facing away from his computer and eating. In this situation, Idia would straight up zap them for two reasons. Number one, they didn’t make him anything to eat, and number two, they’re not supposed to be sitting in his chair or at his desk. Anywhere near his computer/anything that could possibly be used to contact someone on the outside without supervision is a huge issue. Keep in mind that he never deigned to share this rather important rule with his partner.

Idia’s partner has a bad day and snaps at Ortho, shoving him away very, very gently. It almost goes without saying; they’re getting zapped to the point of unconsciousness, because Idia panics and then gets mad, in that order and in rapid succession. The emotions blend together for a moment which makes the jolt stronger. This is when the “no ignoring Ortho” rule would be implemented, because they’d better be really nice to Ortho for the next few months before Idia decides he can trust the two of them to interact without his watchful eye. He trusts his little brother, but he doesn’t trust his partner.

In honor of a certain discussion I had with @tht0nesimp (thank you so much, you're very insightful,) Idia’s partner has a meltdown (understandably) and starts throwing things, including a glass of water that was brought to them after they had a bit of a cry in the shower (stay hydrated, everyone.) The glass, still with the water in it, sails across the room and clocks Idia right in his pretty face, ideally breaking his nose. While it’d be understandable to assume that Idia would be mad enough to hit his partner with a jolt of electricity that would bring them to their knees, Idia is sensible enough to understand that this is a display of some form of hysterical emotions that his partner has been bottling up until this point. Therefore, instead of electrocuting his partner, he just starts complaining, more loudly than usual. It is not peculiar for his voice to rise in volume but not in inflection, we hear this in game, but imagine that just a bit louder and more whiny.

“Wow, and here I thought you were an adult. I can’t believe you can’t even control your emotions.”

“My nose hurts. No, don’t apologize. It’s your fault anyway. I don’t even want to know what you’d do if you were really mad.”

“If you want to make it up to me, you could- don’t make that face. Whatever, I knew you weren’t being serious. Whatever. Just ask Ortho to get me an ice pack and go sit somewhere away from me. It's fine. It's fine!”

[witchywithwhiskey]

this time of year

pairing: friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: you've kept your feelings for your friend, steve rogers, quiet for years—but when you're at the holiday market with your whole group of friends, some things come to light, and you don't think you can keep pretending you don't desperately want him anymore.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, light angst, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), piv sex, protection, fingering (f receiving), nipple play, multiple orgasms, kissing, making out, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine), aftercare, happily ever after—this is probably the most vanilla sex i've written in a while but it's still porn with feelings.

word count: 11.9k

a/n: my first entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, and it's technically still december 1 where i live (just barely)!!! i used the prompt "Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?" and had an idea i really liked and just ran with it! i promise most of my december fics won't be 10k+ words—mainly because i don't think i'd survive it 😅 but i hope y'all enjoy this soft and sweet and smutty start to december!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Teasing tingles of chill danced across your skin as the crisp December wind brushed against your cheeks, making you huddle deeper into the warmth of your winter coat. You pushed your hands deeper into your pockets, but it didn’t do much. You’d forgotten your mittens, and your fingers felt nearly frozen. 

It didn’t help that you and your friends had been meandering through one of the city’s holiday market for more than a few hours, the cold of the evening sinking deep into your bones. Unfortunately, there were only so many cups of hot chocolate one person could consume before they made themselves sick, and you’d reached that limit. 

Still, you were having fun—too much fun to complain about the cold or to try to beg off early. That was why you smiled as you watched your best friend, Yelena Belova, duck into one of the market stalls, her green eyes going wide as they raked over the vendor’s display of knives.

You trailed a little slowly behind the rest of your friends—Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers—beneath the pop-up tent, distracted by the chill in your fingers as you rubbed them against your body through the material of your coat, trying to get them warm.

The wintry wind cut through the market again and, despite the trembling of your body, you smiled as you breathed in the scent of it. Beneath the pine smell from the evergreen trees being sold at the big tent near the entrance and the swirling richness of buttery baked goods, there was a fresh scent that made you turn your face upward.

Gray clouds were rolling in overhead, blotting out the deep navy of the evening sky, and you knew, deep in your bones, that it was going to snow. A smile curled the edges of your lips and you let your eyes fall closed as you breathed in that fresh scent of oncoming snow. 

You loved this time of year because you loved the snow. 

Everything about it conjured up memories of sitting by a crackling fire, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the beautiful flakes fall from the sky and dust everything in a perfect wintry cloak. You could spend hours sitting by a window, watching the snow come down, and you were suddenly looking forward to doing just that once you got home that evening. 

When you finally opened your eyes and turned away from the sky, you found Steve lingering in the entrance of the tent where your friends were browsing, an intensity in his gaze as he looked at you. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring, simply held your gaze, letting you see the heat swirling in the depths of his bright blue eyes.

That heat had begun appearing in Steve’s eyes more and more when he looked at you, and you knew it had started after a certain night at the bar your friends frequented a few weeks prior. But you’d been determinedly ignoring that look in Steve’s eyes ever since that night—just like you’d been ignoring what exactly had happened between the two of you. 

As fast as the memory of that night sprang to mind, you shoved it aside, reminding yourself that there was no use in dredging it up. What you and Steve had done that night had the potential to ruin all of your relationships, and no matter how much you might’ve wanted reenact the night at the bar, your friend group was too important to you to risk it.

Even after years of knowing them, you still felt like your addition to the group was precarious because you’d joined so much later. Steve, Bucky, Nat and Yelena had all known each other since they were teenagers, and you’d only met them in your early twenties. You’d sat near Yelena at your first job after college, and it had been best friends at first sight—or, at first snarky comment, anyway. 

She’d adopted you as her best friend and introduced you to the others since you were new to the city and didn’t know anyone. You’d liked Steve from the moment you met him, but you’d kept a tight lid on your crush since you were more concerned about fitting into the group as seamlessly as possible, and you figured following your feelings would unnecessarily rock the boat. 

Still, despite your intention of taking your crush on Steve to your grave, you couldn’t ignore the way he’d grown into himself as you all had gotten older. 

Gone was the boy-next-door blond hair and clean-shaven face of the man you’d first met. Steve’s hair had darkened and he’d recently let it grow long enough that it was beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. He’d also grown out his beard, keeping it thick but neatly trimmed.

Steve had also, somewhere along the way, learned how to dress his tall form—and do it well. 

That night at the holiday market, he’d worn light gray slacks, a dark charcoal sweater that you desperately wanted to rub your cheek against to see if it was as soft as it looked, and a black wool overcoat. It was an outfit that had you nearly drooling when you’d met up with your friends, unable to tear your eyes away from how Steve’s broad shoulders and trim waist filled out the clothes.

Despite the chill of the evening, Steve hadn’t seemed the least bit cold, and you’d caught yourself thinking more than once how warm it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms. Your fingers would never have gotten so miserably frozen if you’d snuck them beneath Steve’s coat or in his pockets…

With a start, you realized you’d been staring back at Steve for a long, lingering moment, and heat bloomed in your cheeks. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea—though, at that moment, you were struggling to figure out what exactly the wrong idea was—so you ducked your head and pretended like you were bundling deeper into your coat as you made to move past him into the tent.

“Are you alright, sunshine?” Steve asked as you passed him, his hand landing gently on your arm. Even through your coat, you could feel the warmth of his touch; it made you pause and glance up at him.

You realized your mistake immediately. You were too close to Steve—far too close. So close you could smell the rich, masculine scent of his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. It made you want to bury your face in his neck and inhale deeply, to wrap yourself up in his warmth until your bones didn’t even remember what the cold felt like.

“I-I’m ok,” you said in a shaky voice, more rattled by Steve’s closeness than the December wind cutting through the city, and you dropped your gaze to the gold pendant around his neck. 

It glinted in the soft light of the market stall, and you remembered it had been a gift from his Irish Catholic mother. You used the memory of Steve telling you about the pendant to ground yourself and your voice came out stronger. 

“Just cold.”

“D’you want some more hot chocolate?” Steve asked, and there was a hopeful note in his tone, like he was offering to get it for you, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Any more and I think my body will be more hot chocolate than water,” you joked, trying to ignore the emotions swirling in your chest like snowflakes on a wintry gale.

When Steve chuckled, you couldn’t help but look back up at him, finding his blue eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you, affection clear in the lines of his face. 

Slowly, his smile eased into something else—something heavier, an expression that was almost yearning. It made the fluttering flakes in your chest swirl more frenziedly while a warmth bloomed somewhere lower, throbbing more to life the longer Steve looked at you with those darkened blue eyes. His expression spoke of things you’d never dare give voice to.

For another long moment, you and Steve just stared at each other, standing too close just inside the canopy of the vendor at the holiday market. A tension you refused to acknowledge crackled in the air around you.

Of their own volition, your eyes dropped to Steve’s mouth, his lower lip looking so soft and pink amid the dark brown of his beard. For what felt like the millionth time in the last few weeks, ever since that night at the bar, you imagined kissing him—how soft his mouth would be, how warm and inviting, and the feel of his rough beard rasping over your cheeks. 

“Hey Steve, c’mere!”

Natasha’s call finally broke the spell that had fallen over you and Steve, and you jumped back, only in that moment realizing how close you’d been. Close enough that when you ducked your head and turned away from him, making your way over to Yelena and Bucky, that you missed Steve’s warmth almost immediately. 

You let out a shaky breath, trying to ease the tension and whirling emotions in your chest, and slid between your friends, who were still looking at the knives on sale. Looping one arm through Yelena’s, you rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, taking comfort in your friends’ warmth, even if it wasn’t as soothing as Steve’s had been.

“Both of you already have too many knives,” you said by way of a greeting. Your comment made both of them snort derisively, which made you smirk since it had been your intention to get a reaction out of them. 

“There’s no such thing,” Yelena scoffed, tearing her eyes away from a double-edged dagger with an engraved handle to glance sideways at you. Her gaze met yours and then slid over your shoulder.

You followed it to where Natasha and Steve’s heads were ducked together. They were standing near a display of jewelry and you figured Nat was helping Steve pick out a Christmas present for someone, though you couldn’t think of who. You frowned.

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?”

Bucky’s gruff question drew you out of your thoughts of trying to remember someone in Steve’s life who he might be buying jewelry for, and you looked at your friend. Without even seeing your reflection, you knew confusion was written plainly across your face.

“What?” you asked, a little sharper than you’d intended, but you didn’t appreciate the implication that you were making Steve miserable.

Bucky cut his eyes to you, then slid them to Yelena, giving your best friend a pointed look. You spun your head around to your other side in time to watch Yelena’s mouth flatten into a reproachful frown. 

Suddenly, you got the distinct impression that your friends were having an argument about you, though you couldn’t even begin to wonder what it could be about, except that it had something to do with Steve.

It took a moment of silent arguing before Yelena and Bucky seemed to come to an agreement. Yelena looked at you, a gentle expression on her face that made your stomach drop with anxiety—which only worsened when she put her free hand on your arm that was still looped through hers. 

However, before she could voice whatever bad news she clearly had to tell you, Bucky cut in.

“You know no one would be upset if you and Steve dated, right?” he asked bluntly, his eyes intense and searching when you turned to look at him. “We all know you like each other.”

If you’d been drinking hot chocolate at that moment, you would’ve spit it out all over Bucky and the display of pretty decorative knives. 

Thankfully, you weren’t. But you still managed to sputter and open your mouth repeatedly while you searched for the words to address the preposterousness of Bucky’s statement.

“I do not—”

Whatever weak protest you were going to utter was cut short when Yelena blurted, “We know you kissed.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the snowflakes that had been fluttering in your chest when you’d been standing with Steve sharpened into icy daggers of unease. You whirled on your best friend. “Pardon?”

“I saw you guys at the bar that night—I went back to get my scarf…” Yelena explained quickly, having the good grace to look apologetic, both for what she’d seen and for bringing it up. “I know you’ve liked Steve for ages, even if you haven’t said anything,” she rushed on, as if she thought if she spoke fast enough, it would make it easier to hear. “I was so excited it was finally happening that I blurted it out to Nat and she told Bucky—we were just so happy for you both.”

You floundered again, your mouth opening and closing as you processed your best friend’s words. It was almost too much to take in. Not only did everyone know what had happened between you and Steve that night at the bar, but it hadn’t changed anything. You’d told yourself for years that nothing could happen between you and Steve because it would throw off the whole balance of the group, but something had happened and it hadn’t done anything. 

“I—”

Again, you were cut off, though it was seemingly Bucky’s turn, and your head swiveled back to him on your other side, feeling a bit like a broken bobblehead. 

“He’s liked you too, for what it’s worth,” Bucky said. Your face must’ve conveyed disbelief because he went on. “He’s been talking about you since Yelena first introduced you to everyone, but he didn’t know how you felt,” he said, cutting his eyes to Yelena with the barest hint of a glare, “and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Hearing that Steve liked you was officially too much for you to bear. The dawning realization that you could’ve been with Steve without risking your friendships with Yelena, Bucky and Nat was like a yawning, desolate chasm waiting to swallow you whole. You’d lost so much time because you were so afraid of losing them all, and it hurt—it hurt enough that it took you a moment to realize Yelena was talking again.

“We thought someone had finally made a move, but then you guys were pretending like nothing happened,” she was saying, and you turned back to her, your mind so overwhelmed that you no longer felt cold, only numb. “None of us wanted to bring it up because, y’know, I wasn’t supposed to have seen it.” She shot you an apologetic grimace before plowing on, her expression turning gentle again. “You know we’d never stop being your friends, even if something happened with you and Steve, right?”

Your heart was racing, the fear of change quickly eclipsing the fear of losing any more time with Steve. You’d been friends with Yelena, Bucky, Nat and Steve for so long that you couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if the two of you started dating—let alone what might happen if you broke up. Shaking your head, you refused to acknowledge Yelena’s assurance. Even if they’d still be friends with you, nothing would be the same. 

“Nothing happened,” you said vehemently, even as you choked on the words, the lie tasting like ash on your tongue. But you couldn’t seem to stop. “We were drunk, it meant nothing.” 

But then Bucky—blunt, too-perceptive Bucky—broke into your thoughts and pulled you up short with another simple question.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone not unkind.

You opened your mouth to snap a quick answer, but the ‘yes’ died in your throat. Because of course something had happened, and of course it meant everything.

For the first time in weeks, you gave yourself permission to remember that night. 

You’d tried to forget it—forget the softness of Steve’s lips on yours, forget the heat of his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, forget the pleasant scrape of his beard against your skin and the gentle way he’d held your face as he deepened the kiss. 

Your first kiss with Steve Rogers had been glorious and messy and too short and too perfect—and it had meant everything to you.

But then you remembered what had happened after, the way you’d pulled away, even though you’d been the one to initiate the kiss in the first place, and panicked as soon as your mind had caught up with what you’d done. 

The rest of the memory was a blur, the anxiety of the moment softening the edges, but you distinctly remembered extricating yourself from Steve—which had felt a little like cutting off a limb—before telling him it was a mistake and it couldn’t happen again.

Back at the market, you buried your face in your hands, and almost sobbed at the memory. “I’ve already ruined things,” you mumbled miserably into your frozen fingers, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Bucky made a humming noise, as if he was considering your words. “Whatever happened between you two, it hasn’t changed Steve’s feelings for you,” he said, squeezing your wrist gently until you looked at him. He stared at you for a long moment, making sure you heard him. “So my question stands: When are you going to put him—and yourself—out of this misery?” 

Your friends let you sit with that question for a silent moment, then Yelena selected one of the knives, claiming it was an early Christmas present for herself and made her way over to the checkout. 

Steve was also apparently buying something, accepting a small wrapped package from the cashier that he slipped into his pocket. You were too overwhelmed by your thoughts to be curious about it anymore though.

You stood with Bucky near the entrance to the tent, waiting for your friends to finish their transactions while your mind swirled. You were grateful to your friend for leaving you alone with your thoughts, though you knew it was only because Bucky was confident he’d made his point.

And he had. Oh how he had.

Your mind and heart were a mess. You’d spent so many years telling yourself that you could never let anyone catch on about your feelings for Steve, because if they did, it would lead to the end of the friend group. But they’d all known for weeks, and nothing had changed. 

Well, nothing except apparently Bucky and Yelena had taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if Natasha had been in on the ploy as well, distracting Steve purposefully so Yelena and Bucky could ambush you.

Still, you couldn’t fully silence the tiny voice of fear deep in your heart that insisted that if you and Steve got together, and things ended badly, you’d lose all your friends. 

The rest of the group had known each other for so long and it had been more than a little daunting to figure out where you fit. Adding a romantic relationship into the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster—and if it ended so badly that everyone was forced to choose sides, you couldn’t imagine them choosing yours when they’d known Steve so much longer. 

But as you watched Yelena finish paying for the knife, her words about always being your friend came back to you. She was your best friend—and you were hers. As if proving the point, she caught your eye and smiled impishly as she caught up with you, linking her arm through yours and tugging you back out into the market. 

In that moment, something settled in you. Without fully realizing it, you’d always been a little insecure in your group of friends, always worried they would kick you out at the smallest infraction. But Yelena had said it plainly—they’d always be your friends, and you owed it to them to believe her, to trust her, because that was what friendship was. 

That was what you had to do to have any kind of meaningful relationship.

As your group of friends wandered further down the row of stalls at the holiday market, you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept straying to Steve. Each time, you found him either looking at you already, or glancing your way within seconds, like he could feel your gaze. 

When you looked at him, really looked at him, you noticed a little bit of hurt in his eyes. There was only a hint of it, like he was trying to hide it from you and everyone elese, but you could see it. 

You wondered, briefly, how you’d missed it, but a part of you knew you’d been seeing it since that night at the bar. You’d just been ignoring it along with everything else swirling in his gaze. 

“When are you going to put him out of his misery?” 

You’d known you were making yourself miserable—of course you had. But the realization that you were making Steve miserable, even as he made a valiant effort to hide it, was what finally made your decision for you about what to do with everything Bucky and Yelena had told you.

No matter how scared you were that things might end badly, and you’d end up getting your heart broken and lose all your friends, you had to trust them when they said they’d always be there for you. You had to trust that Steve knew what he wanted—and that what he wanted was you.

The group came to another stop when Bucky spotted a specialty chocolate vendor and he ducked inside. Nat and Yelena followed him in—the latter giving you a meaningful look as you trailed behind before cutting her eyes to Steve. The message was clear and you nodded, giving her a playful shove that made your best friend cackle as she followed Bucky and Nat.

You stepped toward Steve where he hovered just outside the tent, and he shot you a knowing smile when he caught your eye.

“Still feeling like you’ve had enough chocolate?” he asked in a friendly tone, referencing your earlier joke. His beard twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile and it warmed your heart that he not only remembered the joke, but still found it funny.

The side of your mouth curved up in a lopsided grin, and you inched a tiny bit closer, just barely stepping into Steve’s personal space as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had my fill,” you said, keeping your tone light. You took on a considering expression, tipping your head to the side and tapping a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. “For tonight, at least.” 

Both of you laughed, but the December wind cut through the holiday market just then, and it reminded you of how cold your fingers were, especially out in the open. You quickly shoved your hand deep into the pocket of your coat, and Steve didn’t miss the movement, drifting even closer to you.

“Do you have any gloves, sunshine?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that had warm tingles of delight dancing down your spine, all the way to your toes. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Steve had moved close enough that you had to tip your head back to keep looking up at him, and you could feel the heat radiating off his larger body.

His blue eyes were sparkling in the warm, golden light of the market, and you could see the swirl of emotion in their depths that was only there when he looked at you. But there was a crease of concern between his brows, too, and you knew he was seconds away from offering to find you some gloves—or something else that would be chivalrous and perfectly friendly. 

You realized, very suddenly, that if anything was going to happen between you and Steve, anything like what had happened at the bar, you needed to make the first move. Bucky had said Steve had been worried about making you uncomfortable before that night, and you were certain it had only worsened after the kiss you’d shared. 

So, before he could say anything, you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Can I put my cold hands up your sweater for warmth?”

Steve’s brows lifted in surprise, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from trying to take the words back as soon as they’d slipped out of your mouth. And you were glad you did, because as the moment stretched on, and Steve realized you were serious, his brows lowered and his blue eyes darkened with interest.

“Ya sure about that, sunshine?” he asked, his voice low enough that you knew it was meant for only you. He ducked his head slightly, so he was nearly at your eye level, and held your gaze. “I wouldn’t want you doing anything you might regret.”

The words stung a little, but you knew you deserved them, especially after you’d told Steve that kissing him had been a mistake. So you held his gaze and stepped even closer to him, until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly, letting Steve see the honesty in your open expression. “I know what I’m doing and I—this is what I want.” You were proud of yourself for only stumbling once, and held your breath as you waited for Steve’s response.

The corners of Steve’s mouth flickered in an eager grin, but he wiped the expression away, like he was worried that if he appeared too excited, he’d scare you away. You felt a pang of regret, and it doubled your determination to show Steve that you weren’t going to panic and run away again. 

Pulling your hands from your pockets, you brushed your fingertips against Steve’s stomach in a silent reminder of your question. 

“Can I?” you asked, your voice breathless with anticipation. 

“Yeah,” he rasped, his eyes molten with heat as he stared down at you. “Go ‘head, sunshine.”

You were cold enough that you didn’t waste any more time, slipping your fingers beneath the hem of Steve’s soft sweater and pressing your frigid fingertips to the warm, smooth skin you found. 

“Fuck, your fingers are freezing,” Steve rumbled, the muscles of his abs contracting beneath your touch like they were trying flee. But before you could apologize and pull away, Steve’s hands flattened over yours outside his sweater, pressing your palms against the hard-packed plane of his abs. “Good thing ya got me to keep you warm, sunshine,” he teased, his voice so full of charm that you melted into him. 

“Yeah, good thing,” you echoed in a whisper, the edges of your mouth curling up into a pleased smile. You shimmied closer to Steve, watching the way his blue eyes sparkled with affection as he held your gaze captive.

He wrapped you up against him, holding you in the loose cage of his warms while your fingertips stroked idly against his smooth skin. You wanted to let them wander further beneath his sweater and explore the wonders of Steve’s bare chest, but you managed to keep the urge in check since you were in public—though it was a near thing.

“You know what I like to do most in the winter?” you asked Steve, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two of you. The sounds of the market all around you were a distant soundtrack.

“What?” he asked indulgently, squeezing you slightly in his arms.

“Curl up in bed and snuggle on a snowy day,” you said with a sly smile. And then, as if a thought had just occurred to you, you tilted your head to the side. “Hey, is your bed comfy? Do you have a lot of nice warm blankets and good pillows?”

A grin pulled across Steve’s face even though he was fighting it, trying to look like he was taking your questions under serious consideration.

“Y’know, I think it’s very comfy,” he said, giving you a knowing look. He’d obviously picked up on the not-so-subtle cue that you might want him to take you back to his place, and you appreciated that he was sticking to the bit. “But it sounds like you’re an expert, so I think you should come over and be the judge of that.”

An answering grin curved your mouth and you murmured, “I’d like that.” 

Then, before you could let your fear get the best of you again, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, your lips brushing against Steve’s beard as you moved to whisper in his ear. 

You shivered at the physical reminder of the coarse hair rasping deliciously against your cheeks when he’d kissed you and it took a moment to remember what you’d been about to say. When you did, you couldn’t hold in your smirk.

“Did I mention I do my best snuggling naked?” 

“Sunshine.”

The nickname was uttered in a gruff, rumbling rasp, like the sound of a plow on snowy streets. It was so deep and delicious, your toes curled in delight and your mouth pulled into a full-blown grin. 

You barely had time to pull away before Steve was wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and towing you in for a kiss.

Steve’s mouth was wonderfully soft and exquisitely warm and achingly familiar against yours. He wasted no time licking along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance that you happily gave him. 

Your fingers curled around Steve’s sides beneath his sweater, digging greedily into the soft skin at his waist while you kissed him back feverishly, trying to close every gap between your bodies.

“Fuck, how does this feel so much better than I remember?” Steve growled against your lips, his hand on the back of your neck tilting your head just the way he wanted so he could lick even deeper into your mouth. 

Your breathy, delirious laugh was swallowed by his all-consuming kiss, the sound turning into a helpless moan. 

God, he was right, it did feel so much better than you remembered to have Steve’s mouth on yours, and you couldn’t fathom how you’d run away from him before because, in that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was stop. You wanted to kiss Steve for the rest of your life.

“I don’t know, but Steve, please, don’t stop,” you murmured when he finally let you up for air. You tried to catch your breath while he was busy pressing insatiable kisses to your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your lips. 

Pulling your hands from beneath his sweater, your no longer freezing fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, pulling him closer while at the same time pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes again. Your bodies slotted together even more perfectly, and you moaned softly into his mouth as you tugged him in for another kiss.

Steve kissed you harder, holding you tight to his chest like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear on the wintry wind. In turn, you held him just as fiercely, your nails raking through the beard on the underside of his jaw and tugging lightly to bring him closer until he was rumbling a pleased sound deep in his chest.

“Get a room!”

The perfect bubble that had formed around and Steve abruptly popped, the sounds of the bustling holiday market rushing in along with the December chill and you pulled away, your first instinct to worry about what your friends would think. But then you caught the look on Steve’s face. 

He was staring at you with such a blissed out expression, his blue eyes dark and hazy, a pleased smile on his kiss-swollen lips, that you couldn’t help but relax and melt back into him. You took your time to press a sweet kiss to his lips before turning to your friends.

Natasha, Yelena and Bucky all wore matching smug grins. Nat was even popping little chocolate candies into her mouth like she was enjoying the show. 

“Oh no, please don’t stop on our account,” she called to you and Steve, gesturing with her hand for you both to continue. The whole group burst into raucous laughter. 

Cracking up and shaking your head, you buried your face in Steve’s rumbling chest, feeling a little shy about being caught making out so heatedly by your friends. But you felt relief, too, that no one was upset—that all your friends were happy for you and Steve.  

When you’d finally gotten ahold of yourself, you tipped your face up and caught Steve’s eye, giving him a sly smile that had his expression instantly darkening with a hunger that made you pulse with desire. 

“So about that comfy bed of yours…” you murmured, just for him to hear. When he nodded once, quickly, to acknowledge he remembered it, you went on. “I’d love to see it if you’re ready to go?”

The implication of your question was clear and Steve clutched you tighter to his chest, capturing your lips for a brief, hot kiss that did more to warm you from the inside out than any of the hot chocolate you’d consumed that evening. 

“Sunshine, I’ve been ready to take you home for years,” he rasped against your mouth, the honesty in his voice making you smile. 

When Steve pulled away, he tugged you over to your group of friends and told them you were heading home—yes, together, he confirmed. All three of them murmured encouraging words in your ear as you hugged them goodbye, and you could tell by the pink tinging Steve’s cheeks that they were doing the same to him.

Once farewells were said, Steve snagged your hand and laced your fingers together. As you walked to the subway, he tucked your clasped hands into the pocket of his overcoat, and then your other into the crook of his elbow, where he covered it with his palm to keep you warm. 

Steve held you tucked into his side the whole way back to his place while he made idle conversation, asking about the latest books you’d read and movies you’d watched. He only let go when it came time to pull out his keys and unlock his door.

There was a giddy, electric energy between the two of you as Steve helped you out of your coat and hung it up. Your gaze kept drifting back to him while you took off your boots and he hung up his overcoat. Once done, he stepped close, toeing out of his shoes next to where you’d dropped your boots.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Steve asked, his voice rough and a little uneven, like he was nervous. It made you smile, settling your own nerves to know he was right there with you.

You stepped further into Steve’s space, your fingers sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and giggling when he sucked in a sharp breath. He’d made an excellent effort to keep your fingers warm on the way home, but the December cold had still snuck in. 

It was a good thing Steve was there to warm you up again.

“I think I’d just like to see this comfy bed of yours,” you murmured, pushing up onto your tiptoes and kissing Steve. 

The two of you lingered in the entryway of Steve’s apartment for long minutes, kissing and learning what made each other gasp and moan. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, sinking in hard enough to make you whimper before relenting and soothing the sting away with his tongue.

Meanwhile, you let your hands wander further beneath Steve’s sweater, finding a light trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his slacks. You raked  your nails through it, and relished the pleased sound that rumbled in his chest. 

Warm, wet desire was gathering between your thighs, and it wasn’t long before you squirmed impatiently against Steve, needing more.

By the time Steve broke the kiss and spun you around, his heavy hands dropping to your hips to guide you through his apartment, your panties were damp and you were aching for something only Steve could give you. 

Both of you moved quickly as you let Steve lead you to his bedroom, pausing just inside the darkened room while he flicked on a light.

A soft, golden glow emanated from two lamps set on low wooden tables on either side of the massive bed. Curiously, your gaze roved over the room, taking in the earthy colors and tasteful design.

It seemed Steve hadn’t only gotten his wardrobe and appearance together—he’d also made his home a place that was warm and welcoming and entirely him. 

The king-size bed was swathed in a thick, forest green comforter with dark charcoal sheets, a veritable pile of pillows at the head that looked far too enticing. The rest of the room was furnished with a dark wooden bookcase and dresser that matched the bed frame and side tables. There were even some vintage photographs of Brooklyn decorating the wall, along with some framed pictures on dresser.

Wandering over, you picked up one of the photographs. It was from the first autumn after you’d met Yelena and the others. The group had rented a car and gone to a farm upstate to go apple picking and enjoy all the other autumnal delights the state had to offer. 

In the photo, you were tucked into Steve’s side on a bale of hay, ready for the hayride the group had decided to go on, with Yelena on your other side. There was a blanket draped over your laps, and Steve’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders. The three of you were beaming at the camera. 

“Do you remember that trip?” Steve asked, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder while he peered at the photograph.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. Then you winced as you remembered something about the trip. “Wasn’t this the time I fell asleep on your shoulder on the way home and drooled all over your jacket?”

Steve laughed huskily in your ear.

“It is,” he confirmed, brushing a kiss to your cheek before murmuring. “I didn’t wash it for a month.”

It was your turn to laugh, though the sound was more of a surprised exhalation as you twisted your upper body so you could see his face better.

“What?”

Steve grimaced, wrinkling his nose and scuffing a hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, like he regretted admitting that to you.

“It was more because it smelled like you than because of the, y’know, drool,” he explained, his tone a tiny bit defensive. But then he looked at you, finding your face still frozen in surprise and his expression softened. “I’ve liked you since I met you, sunshine.”

It wasn’t anything Bucky hadn’t already told you, but it still felt like an entirely new revelation coming straight from Steve, and all you could think to say was, “Oh.” 

You turned back to the photo, still held in your hand, and all you could think about was the fact that you had the same one tacked up on the corkboard over your desk. You wondered if Steve liked it for the same reason you did—because it made the two of you look like a happy couple, even with Yelena sitting next to you.

“I liked you too,” you confessed in a small voice.

Steve was quiet for a moment, his hold on you loosening slightly as you stepped forward to put the photograph back on his dresser. But when that was done, he towed you back in until your back was pressed to his chest. 

“Liked?” he asked, enunciating the ‘d’ at the end of the word. 

Your mouth flickered in a smile and you turned around in his arms. Your hands smoothed over his broad shoulders while you leaned into him, your soft curves pressing into the hard planes of his body.

“I liked you then, and I like you now, Steve,” you said, holding your breath as you stared up at him. Even knowing he felt the same way about you, it was still scary to lay your heart bare for the first time, and you waited eagerly for his response.

An exhale gusted from Steve and you couldn’t help but note the relief in his expression, even as he grinned wide.

“That’s good to hear, sunshine, because I like you, too.”

“Good,” you said with a grin, dragging Steve down for a too-brief kiss. “Now, will you take me to bed already?”

Steve’s laughter was muffled as he kissed you again, guiding you around and walking you backward until the backs of your legs hit the bed. He didn’t break the kiss as he lowered you to the soft mattress and helped you slide up the bed until your shoulders settled into the pile of pillows at the head.

Your arms wrapped around Steve and you pulled him down on top of you while he braced himself so he didn’t crush you. One of his legs slid between your thighs and he lowered himself down on top of you until his bulge pressed into your stomach. Your belly swooped with excitement and your pulse thrummed with desire.

Hiking one of your legs up around his waist, you writhed beneath Steve, grinding your hot core against his thigh through your jeans. 

You couldn’t seem to stop touching him, your hands sketching the exact measure of his body, and he seemed to be doing the same. Steve’s hands couldn’t stay still, sliding up and down your sides before finally pushing beneath your sweater.

His warm, calloused fingers stroked covetously over your skin, and you felt extra sensitive wherever he touched you, his every caress sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body. 

“Steve,” you whined, wrenching your mouth from his to drag in a much-needed breath. Even still, you craved more and your body rocked up into his, grinding against his thigh while his bulge pressed insistently into your belly. 

“You feel so good, sunshine,” he rasped as he kissed a trail along your jaw and down to your neck. The scratch of his beard against your skin had you shuddering beneath his big body. “Can I…?” he asked, his fingertips teasing along the edge of your bra beneath your sweater.

“Yes—please,” you gasped. Your own fingers curled into the soft fabric of Steve’s sweater between his shoulder blades and you tugged on it, trying to pull it over his head.

Steve chuckled into your neck before he sat up and yanked his sweater off for you, baring the broad expanse of his chest. You caught glimpses of soft brown hair dusted across his pecs and endless swaths of golden skin before he was helping you out of your sweater. 

You grumbled disgruntledly when your view of Steve was cut off as he tugged your sweater over your head, then as he leaned close to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere in the room. You only dragged your eyes away from Steve’s perfect chest when he made a low, almost anguished sound.

He looked a little dazed, his eyes staring down at your bare breasts. Your chest was heaving slightly, making them bounce gently, and Steve looked almost hypnotized by the sight. 

Snorting to yourself, you curled your fingers around his firm biceps and tugged him back down on top of you, whimpering when your nipples brushed against the hair on his chest. They pebbled as pleasure spiked through your body, settling heavily between your thighs and making even more wetness soak into your panties.

The movement had broken Steve from his trance and he began kissing from your neck down your chest. The rasp of his beard over your clavicle sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making you keen and tremble beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” he rumbled gruffly into your skin. He buried his face in the valley between your breasts, groping your supple flesh in his big hands while pressing teasing kisses and gentle bites to your skin. “You’re so perfect, sunshine.”

You whined a needy sound, reacting to his touch as much as his awe-filled words, and threaded your fingers through Steve’s soft hair. You held him tightly to your chest, wordlessly pleading for more, and he enthusiastically indulged the request.

Steve wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked deeply, drawing so much of you into his hot mouth, it felt like he was doing his damndest to devour you. You were already so sensitive for him that it felt like there was a direct line connecting your sensitive peak to your clit, and you cried out in pleasure, your spine arching up off the bed and pushing your chest further in Steve’s face.

He grinned, doing a poor job of hiding his self-satisfied expression in your soft tits, but you didn’t begrudge him the smugness—not when he nibbled at your hardened nipple so good, it made your hips buck up from the bed. A whine slipped from your lips when you realized you no longer had his thigh to grind against, your legs kicking restlessly at the sheets.

After giving the same torturous treatment to your other nipple, wringing even more whimpering whines and desperate keening sounds from your mouth, Steve began kissing his way further down your body. He nipped playfully at your belly before lifting his head to catch your eye. 

It took you a moment to blink them into focus enough to see him clearly.

“I’ve been dreaming about your taste for years, sunshine,” he rumbled, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and tugging just enough that you knew he was asking if he could take them off. “Please, can I…?”

You were already nodding, your fingers fumbling over the button of your jeans. Steve seemed just as eager as you, gently pushing your hand aside and taking over as he thumbed it through the hole in the denim and pulled your zipper down. Then he was peeling your jeans down over you hips and thighs, taking your panties off at the same time.

In only a few seconds, you were stripped bare for the first time in front of Steve Rogers, and if it wasn’t for the shuddered exhale that gusted past his lips and the sizable bulge twitching in the front of his slacks, it might’ve occurred to you to feel a little insecure. 

But before those thoughts could even begin to creep in, Steve was dragging his hands up your thighs and spreading your legs with a reverent look on his face, giving an appreciative rumble deep in his chest as he raked his eyes up the naked length of your body. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sunshine,” he rasped, pressing his face between your thighs and taking a deep breath. 

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to wonder at how you smelled because Steve was licking his tongue into the seam of your pussy, groaning like he’d eaten something delicious. 

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled before diving in deeper, burying his face against your cunt and eating you out like he was a dying man and you were his last meal. 

In no time at all, he had you crying out, your hips bucking up off the bed as pleasure swirled through your body. It was all you could do to try to stop yourself from humping against his handsome face.

Steve’s thick biceps banded around your thighs and he held you spread open while he feasted on you, his eyes staring up past your quivering belly and heaving chest to watch your reactions. He sucked and nibbled and flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit, paying attention to what had you writhing and moaning your pleasure beneath him.

He licked into your pussy, fucking you with his tongue until you were squirming and panting on the bed, your thighs tensing and trembling with your building release. 

Needing something to hold on to, you threaded your fingers into Steve’s hair, holding his head against your greedy pussy and rocking your hips into him. You moaned loudly, unabashedly, grinding against his mouth and beard as you neared the edge.

“Oh god, Steve, ‘m so close, please—please, don’t stop, ‘m gonna come,” you babbled, your spine arching up off the bed as you threw your head back into the pile of soft pillows. “Fuck, please, please, please!”

It was clear that Steve was a quick study when it came to your body, and he put what he’d learned to good use, sucking hard on your clit and flicking his tongue over it, steadily driving your pleasure higher until, finally, it crested. And then he pushed you right over the edge.

Your fingers fisted in Steve’s hair and you humped shamelessly against his face as you came with a cry of his name—“Steve!” Your body tightened, and then loosened as wave after wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, making you shiver intensely while Steve’s mouth worked you through your release. 

When the pleasure began to ebb, you melted back into the soft blankets on Steve’s bed, a dazed smile curving your mouth. Steve eased you down with gentle sweeps of his tongue and soft kisses to your inner thighs, murmuring sweet words to you about how good you tasted on his tongue.

It wasn’t until you whimpered from overstimulation that Steve stopped. He pressed one last kiss to the top of your mound before pushing himself up. His happy grin when he saw the sated, content expression on your face made your heart skip a beat in your chest. He was just so damn handsome. 

“Good?” Steve asked, though you knew from the self-satisfied look in his eye that he already knew the answer to his question.

Still, you nodded. “So good,” you purred, stretching and reaching for him. Your fingers curled into coarse hair on the underside of his jaw and you tugged him up your body for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, and his beard was so drenched in your juices, it made your own cheeks damp. A groan worked its way up your throat at the filthiness of the kiss, and you pulled Steve closer, letting him muffle the sound as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

Even though Steve had just made you come harder than anyone else in your entire life, renewed desire was beginning to bloom in your core, the heat of your arousal already building again. Distractedly, you recognized that you’d never felt the way you did for anyone but Steve—insatiable, unwilling to let the night end just yet. 

When Steve’s hard bulge knocked against your hip, a devious smirk curled your lips and you wasted no time trailing your fingers down his bare, golden chest to grope his cock through his slacks. He was hard and heavy in your hand, and an excited thrill raced down your spine at the thought of taking him in your mouth. 

Steve groaned against your lips, his big body shuddering when you squeezed and stroked him through the thick material of his pants. So you did it again, rubbing him with your palm until you felt his hard length jump against your fingers, like his body was just as eager for your touch as the rest of him.

“We don’t have to do more,” Steve said, his voice a little breathless. “I-I mean, you don’t have to return the favor or anything. I’m good to just go to sleep if that’s what you want.”

Steve’s words were honorable, but you didn’t want to sleep. 

You pushed at his larger body until he flipped onto his back. Following after him, you kissed down his chest, taking a moment to nuzzle in the soft hair scattered across his pecs before you lifted your head and caught his eye, letting him see the desire in yours. 

“I bet I’ve dreamed about sucking your cock just as much as you dreamed about eating my pussy,” you whispered huskily, holding his gaze determinedly while you shifted down his body until your face was level with his bulge. You mouthed at his hard length through his slacks. “Please, Steve, can I…?” 

“Yeah—yes—fuck, sunshine, you can do whatever you want,” he rasped, helping you undo his button and fly, his fingers trembling. Then he lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down.

You felt like you were unwrapping the most perfect Christmas present as you tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his thick, toned thighs. You even let out a little gasp of delight when Steve’s cock bounced free, marveling at the sheer masculine beauty of it.

Impatiently, you pulled his clothes the rest of the way off, pausing only to kiss his thighs, enjoying the softness of his leg hair against your lips and cheeks, before returning to his cock. 

Taking him in hand, you circled your fingers around the thick shaft and gave him a loose pump, watching how he bucked his hips into your fist from just that little bit of touching. Steve’s hands were fisted in the blankets on the bed, like he was holding himself back from touching you, and you decided you want to make the man—your man—lose himself in pleasure, just like he’d done to you. 

You ducked down and licked the tip of Steve’s cock, humming in delight as the salty, musky taste of his precum burst on your tongue. The vibrations made Steve groan and you hid a self-satisfied smirk against his cock, before refocusing on your task.

You pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down Steve’s shaft, staring up his hard, firm body while he watched you worship his cock. His cheeks were tinged pink, a light sheen of sweat dotting his brow and his eyes were so dark, his pupils blown so wide, they looked like the navy blue night sky on a winter evening. 

When you ducked down further, taking his balls into your mouth and suckling greedily, Steve’s gaze widened and his cock twitched in your hand. 

“Sunshine,” he rasped, the nickname sounding like a plea for mercy as he groaned loudly. “Ya keep sucking my balls and I’m gonna come way too soon.”

With a smirk, you gave his sensitive sac one last little suckle before letting it fall from your lips, then you licked up the length of his cock.

“Can’t have that,” you quipped, shooting him a smug grin. You pressed a kiss to the tip and wrapped your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth and sucking hard enough to make his hips buck up off the bed. 

Another anguished sound wrenched free from Steve’s lips. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he settled back down, one of his hands coming to rest on the crown of your head—not pushing you down or pulling you away, just holding you like he couldn’t help but touch you. 

For a moment, you focused on Steve’s cock, pulling back before taking him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to swirl around the head and trace the veins decorating his shaft while your fist stroked him. But when you flicked your gaze up to Steve, you found him watching you with adoration in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, sunshine,” he rumbled when he noticed he had your attention, one side of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin. “You’re gorgeous—and you look so fucking hot with my cock in your mouth.” 

The corners of your mouth flickered in a pleased smile as his praise washed over you, and you closed your eyes, soaking it in. When you opened them again, you redoubled your efforts on Steve, bobbing up and down on his length at a steady pace while you pumped him in your fist. 

You lost yourself in the pleasure of sucking Steve’s cock, and before long, you could feel yourself growing wet all over again. Your inner walls clenched pathetically around nothing while your mouth was filled with his big dick, but you didn’t want to stop. 

However, before you could make Steve come down your throat, his hands gently gripped your head and he pulled you up off his cock. With his considerable strength, Steve hauled you back up the bed and rolled you over onto your back beneath him, bracing himself on one hand while the other slide between your thighs. He bit off a curse when he felt how wet you were.

“Christ, sunshine, ya got this wet from sucking my cock?” he asked, a note of teasing in his tone that had heat coursing through your body. Before you could respond, though, his mouth found yours for a kiss. 

You were certain he must’ve been able to taste himself on your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. He was too determined to devour your lips and swallow your moan while he speared you open with two fingers, capturing your cry of pleasure.

“Oh god, Steve,” you mumbled against his mouth, your hips rocking into his hand and fucking his fingers. “Please, I need you—I need you to fuck me.” Your hand was fisted in Steve’s soft hair and you clung to him, your entire being straining to get closer while still taking all the pleasure his fingers offered.

“Thank fuck—I need you so goddamned bad, sunshine,” he groaned, easing his fingers from your dripping hole and rolling onto his back so he could reach for something. 

A moment later, you heard the sound of a wooden drawer snap closed and he rolled back on top of you, the square foil packet of a condom held in his fingers.

“Ya wanna do the honors?” he asked, his grin so charming and so like the Steve you’d known for so many years that it took your breath away. 

But there was a comfort and an ease to the moment because you were there with Steve—your Steve—and you laughed at his silly offer. You were shaking your head even as you took the packet and tore it open, tossing the foil aside and making quick work of rolling the condom onto his cock. 

When you were done, you gave the base of his shaft an affectionate squeeze and Steve chuckled, capturing your lips in a kiss while he shifted on top of you, pressing his knees between your legs and spreading your thighs to make room for his big, broad body. 

You opened happily for him, kissing him back while your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs. Together, you lined your bodies up until Steve’s cock lay heavily against your mound, kissing lazily all the while.

After a moment, Steve broke the kiss, pushing himself up with one hand while the other fisted his hard length and held himself away from the place where you ached for him to fill. He stared deep into your eyes and gave you a serious look, a little bit of anxiety swirling in his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes roving over your face like he was searching for any hidden remnant of hesitance on your part—any sign that you might run, you realized. “Because I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you for so long, that if you tell me tomorrow this was a mistake…” Steve paused, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed, “it’ll break my fucking heart, sunshine.”

Steve’s voice cracked a little on the pet name and it made your heart split open in your chest. You didn’t know if you’d ever forgive yourself for hurting Steve the way you did, for saying those things you didn’t mean and trying to push him away when all you’d wanted was to pull him closer. 

You decided then and there to make it up to him—and that began with being honest with him. Always. 

So you threaded your fingers into Steve’s beard until you were cupping his face and you stared him directly in the eye as you answered his question. 

“I’m sure, Steve,” you said firmly, certainty resonating in your tone. “I was scared before—I’ve wanted you for so long that the thought of finally having you was terrifying.” You gave him a tremulous, apologetic smile, and his expression softened. “But I’m sure about this,” you said again, your voice stronger. “I’m sure about you, and I’m sure about us.”

When you finished your confession, Steve’s eyes closed and he exhaled a long, relieved breath. You pulled him down for a kiss, and it was a gentle thing—tentative as you both savored the vulnerability you shared, physically and emotionally, thanking one another for the trust that took. 

It was only when the kiss ended and Steve pressed his forehead to yours that he pushed inside you for the first time, his thick cock sinking deep into your pussy with one determined, inexorable thrust. 

Your arms and legs were wrapped around him already and you clung to Steve as you cried out, tears of emotion pricking at the backs of your eyes even as pleasure radiated through your body.

“You ok?” Steve asked softly and the question—so gentle and genuine—had a tear spilling onto your cheek. He brushed it away. 

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” you admitted in a thick voice, tugging Steve’s mouth back to yours, kissing him deeply. 

Together, you gave yourselves over to your instincts. Steve pulled his hips back until only half of him remained inside, and your heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him to plunge deep into you again. He slid home, and both of you moaned. 

Steve rocked into you with slow, thorough thrusts, but when you moaned for more, he drew back more each time and thrust harder. It wasn’t long before he was fucking you in hard, deep strokes that hit all the most perfect spots inside you, his mouth kissing your cheeks and neck and anywhere he could reach while he held you pinned to his chest, his hips working his cock deep into your cunt. 

With every hard thrust, you clung more tightly to Steve, holding him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair, thankful he’d grown it long enough that you could grip it tight in your fists. Your body writhed beneath his bigger form, using your legs draped around his thighs to meet his thrusts. 

For what seemed like forever, you and Steve were nothing more than two writhing bodies trying to get closer, deeper, tighter together, like your hearts were straining to become one. And you were so consumed with pleasure that it wasn’t until you were right on the precipice of your release that you realized you were close.

“Steve,” you gasped, trying to tell him you were going to come, and just then he changed the angle of his hips, stealing the words from your lips. 

He was driving his cock so deep into your cunt and grinding against your clit so exquistiely that you saw stars. Your body shook under a deluge of pleasure and the coil of tension twisted tighter in your core.

“Come for me, sunshine,” Steve rumbled, fucking you hard and deep and so perfectly you knew you were forever ruined for any other man. “Be a good girl and come on my cock before I fucking explode.”

His filthy words were your undoing. 

You shattered apart, sharp, sparkling pleasure devastating your body and mind while you screamed Steve’s name as you came. Your whole body clenched tight, clamping down on Steve’s cock hard enough that he grunted into your neck, then you succumbed to the pleasure as it dragged you under its thrall, whimpers and moans spilling from your lips mindlessly.

Steve’s hands gripped your hips tightly, and he rutted into your clenching pussy with wild thrusts as he chased his own release. He found it only a moment after yours, groaning your name against your cheek while his hips stuttered and shunted forward, burying himself balls-deep in your fluttering pussy while he came, his cock throbbing deep in your cunt. 

You held each other close as you came down from your releases. Your fingers stroked through Steve’s soft hair, the strands damp with sweat, and twirled around the gently curling ends. Meanwhile, his hands were petting up and down your sides, his face buried in the pillow beside your head while he rumbled muffled words of praise in your ear. 

Eventually, Steve sat up, pulling his softening cock as gently from your body as he could manage, watching your face closely for any hint of pain. You were a little sore, but when he pulled free, your body mourned the loss of him more than anything else. 

He quickly disposed of the condom and wrapper in his bathroom, then came back with a warm wet washcloth. He cleaned you up with gentle caresses, pressing a kiss to your hip and nipping playfully at your belly until you were giggling and pushing him away, your body too tired and sated and oversensitive for such treatment—but you were grinning all the same.

When he was done, you rose from the bed and went to the bathroom while he padded to his dresser. After you were done, you found Steve relaxing on his bed in only a pair of lounge pants, his chiseled chest deliciously bare and biceps bulging with his hands tucked behind his head. 

You paused, raking your eyes over his gorgeous chest, only catching his gaze when he made a deep, rumbling sound of good-natured warning. 

“You better put on some pajamas, sunshine,” Steve started, his blue eyes heated and a playful smile flickering at the edges of his mouth, almost hidden by his beard. “Unless you want me to fuck you again.” 

The threat in his tone was flirtatious and you almost took him up on the offer. But you knew that if Steve fucked you again, you’d be sore the next day, and you didn’t want that. Huffing a petulant sigh, you moved to the pile of folded clothes Steve had left on the corner of the bed.

The heat in Steve’s eyes didn’t abate as he watched you pull one of his shirts over your head, tugging the hem down until it covered your ass and part of your thigh. You didn’t have any clean panties, so you crawled into bed like that, your eyes finding Steve and watching as the heat of desire softened into the warmth of affection.

The two of you slid beneath the blankets and you curled up at Steve’s side, your head on his chest. You fell asleep quickly and easily to the sound of his gentle breathing, and the steady drumming of his heart beating beneath your cheek. 

The next morning, you woke to snow flurries drifting past the windows of Steve’s bedroom, the flakes having covered his neighborhood in a blanket of white while you slept. You pressed a happy smile against Steve’s sternum, the expression deepening when you felt his heart skip a beat at your closeness.

“So, is my bed comfy enough for you, sunshine?” he asked in the deep rasp of a man who’d just woken up. Using his arms looped around your waist, he pulled you on top of him, his mouth finding yours for a decadent good morning kiss before he let you answer.

“Hmm,” you hummed playfully in thought, smiling against his mouth while you pulled him closer with your fingers curled into the scruffy, coarse hair of his beard. “It could use a few more pillows—and maybe a nice throw blanket.”

“Consider it done,” he murmured, rolling you beneath his broad body and sliding his hips between your thighs. His morning wood brushed against your bare core and you moaned into his mouth. “Anything you want, you just tell me, sunshine,” he rumbled in between slow, drugging kisses, his hips rolling leisurely against you. “I want my girlfriend to feel comfortable here.”

“Girlfriend?” you gasped breathlessly, your heart beating harder with excitement while he pulled away to kiss down your neck. You could feel Steve’s grin against the side of your throat before he pressed a kiss against your thrumming pulse. 

“You wanna be my girlfriend, don’t ya, sunshine?” he asked. 

It was only because you’d known Steve for so long, and were so determined never to hurt him again, that you heard the tiny thread of anxiety in his tone. You squeezed him tightly in your arms and rushed to answer, eager to put his worry to rest.

“Yes!” you cried happily. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend, Steve.” You twisted your fingers in his soft hair and tugged his mouth up from your neck. “Now kiss me, boyfriend,” you murmured and Steve, obligingly, crushed his mouth to yours in a blissful kiss. 

You and Steve reveled in your new relationship, spending a long time in bed just kissing and exploring each other and making up for lost time before your growling stomachs finally made you get up.

After breakfast, Steve seemed to remember something and he padded to the entryway, coming back with the box he’d acquired at the holiday market the evening before. He handed it to you, saying there was no way he’d be able to wait until Christmas to give it to you.

You opened the present, finding a simple silver chain and a stunningly engraved sun pendant within. You were so overwhelmed with happiness that tears sprang to your eyes and you had to hastily wipe them away.

“A little bit of sunshine for my sunshine,” Steve murmured against your temple before pressing a kiss to your skin. 

At your insistence, he helped you put the necklace on and you thanked him graciously—with words and kisses. Then you towed Steve back to bed, and the two of you gave in to the pleasure of your bodies until you collapsed, sated once again.

All day, you couldn’t stop smiling. You were doing one of your favorite things, snuggling on a snowy day, with one of your favorite people in the world—your boyfriend. And you were making plans for the future, talking about what you were going to get your other friends for Christmas and arguing about how to best decorate Steve’s apartment for the holiday. 

The whole time, you couldn’t help but think about how Christmas would always be extra special for you from that year on. It was a wonderful holiday but, more importantly to you, it was when you and Steve Rogers finally admitted your feelings for one another and took the first step toward a forever together. 

So, this time of year would always be your favorite time of year.

december daze challenge masterlist

[itty-bitty-dancer]

Fem!reader who is going through their lipstick collection and testing how they transfer to determine which ones to keep.

She sets them out on the coffee table and plonks down next to Eddie on the couch.

Putting on one shade, a warm nude, using a small compact mirror, she kisses the back of her hand once, twice, three times, until there’s no more colour coming off her lips.

Eddie can’t help but glance at her each time he hears the smack of her kiss.

She checks her pout in the mirror again. Satisfied, she puts it in the ‘keep’ pile.

Next is red. She applies it in the compact mirror and Eddie is transfixed on the precise swipe that paints her lips a bright ruby. Once happy, she looks at the back of her hands to find them full of her previous lip prints and frowns.

A lightbulb goes off and then she’s turning to Eddie, cupping his face in soft hands and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then a little higher up. Then his jaw. All until no colour apart from his furious blush is appearing on his face.

She checks her reflection, smiles, and adds that lipstick to the ‘keep’ pile too.

A deeper shade of red is next and the process continues— using Eddies face as her personal blotting sheet.

Twenty five minutes later and Eddie has just about sunk into the couch cushions, completely blissed out and feeling a little drunk. He has a wonky, lovesick grin on his face and his eyes feel heavy as he happily plays guinea pig for her little experiment— his skin a marbled pattern of reds and pinks from his hairline, right down to his collarbone and beginning spread to his chest.

“Sorry, Eds.” She manages to mumble as she focuses on applying the next shade.

“Only three more.”

He needs to buy her more lipstick.