#i have marshmallow tipped spears around my heart

[theninjamouse]

Me before trying to write this chapter: the soul sharing stuff is gonna be so deep and wonderful and it's so vivid in my mind, it's gonna be awesome

Me now: they uh. shared souls and it was cool

[vapemaster42069]

Part 1 | Part 2 (you are here!) | Part 3 | Part 4

“So you’re telling me,” Pearl giggled, trying to speak through her amusement, “that you two–don’t laugh at me, I’m serious!-- that you two got kidnapped, and you,” She pointed to Scar with her stick, a half-toasted marshmallow impaled on the end, “convinced them you were soulbound, which saved you from turning into drumsticks,” the stick jerked over to Grian and the marshmallow slipped a little from the force, now dangling onto the tip with and half-hearted corner, slowly oozing it’s way to the floor, “and the experience actually soulbound you?”

“I– well, what else was I supposed to do?” Scar stammered, a grin cracking his face almost in two. Grian cackled, falling over onto him, knocking the marshmallow into his hair with an impressive display of balance, his feet flailing, hands clutching his stomach, lower end nearly slipping off the one of the logs they had dragged around the fire earlier.

“Maybe–” Grian snorted, pausing to compose himself while Scar grabbed his shoulder, doubling over, “--maybe. Don’t! Fall in love with the bird!” He leaned back, clumsily squirming so he was leaning his back on Scar’s front. It was quite an effort, as Scar was still struggling to breathe around his laughter.

“I couldn’t help it! You’re just too cute!” He hugged Grian to his chest, resting his chin in his messy hair.

“Scar! Stop that!” Grian’s cheeks burned red, the blush only half-masked by the low lighting. “I am not cute!” 

“You’re a little cute.”

“Pearl! Don’t join his side!,” He grabbed Scar’s hand in his own, “See, you’ve even turned my sister against me!”

“They’re not wrong, though,” Mumbo called from where he lounged by their cave entrance, keeping watch on the surrounding forest through the blizzard flurries, his back to the fire, “You are pretty adorable, especially when you– oh, look, he’s doing it now! When you get all annoyed, and your face scrunches, and–,” He ducked, dodging a marshmallow viscously targeted at his head, “-- And your fathers get all poofy–,” He dodged again, laughing, “Stop wasting the marshmallows! There better be some left when my shift is done!”

“Impossible!” Impulse grabbed the bag, snatching four marshmallows and spearing them on the tip of one of Scar’s arrows, “Knights, new mission: eat all of the marshmallows in the next 10 minutes!” He tossed the bag over the fire, across the circle to where Pearl sat on her tree stump. She was wrapped in Mumbo’s coat, which miraculously didn’t have any marshmallow bits on it, a seemingly-anti-marshmallow-debris aura surrounding Pearl and about two feet on either side of her.

“Aye, aye!” Pearl saluted him, catching the bag and loading another marshmallow onto her stick.

“Oh– You jerk!” Mumbo glanced away from the dark forest in front of him, towards Impulse, “Treason!”

Impulse raised a fist, turning as well, “I serve the king!”

“I don’t,” A hooded figure, previously hidden in the shadow of a tree, stepped into the light, brushing snow from their shoulders.

“I– WAAAAAAH–!” Pearl yelped, slipping backwards off her stump and landing shoulders-first on the cave floor. She reached for a sword that wasn’t there before glancing up, suddenly acutely aware of her party’s casual lack of armor. All but Mumbo, on guard, and Scar, who didn’t wear much armor as a marksman anyways, had settled down and disrobed their heavy guards and weapons.

“Oh, hi, Cub!” Scar called. 

Mumbo held out a hand, fistbumping Cub as he passed, “That was a good one, we finally got someone!” His mustache wiggled mischievously.

“You two–” Pearl hoisted herself up onto her elbows, “-- are spoons.”

“Yep!” Cub slid his hood off, shaking the length of his white cape to get the remaining snow off. It wasn’t a knight’s cape, but it did bear the crest of the king on the lapel. Several potion bottles clinked under his light blue robes. “You the newbie?”

“Yeah, uh. I’m Dame Moon, or Pearl. Boatem sect, Eighth season, this idiot’s–” she nudged Grian with a foot, “--older sister.”

“Cub. Nice to meet you.” He turned back to the cave entrance, beckoning with a gloved hand. “X!”

“Heyo,” a shape in the dark responded.

“Stop that!” Pearl, from her spot on the floor, startled again. Grian grinned at her.

“L.”

“I hate you,”

“Awww, you love me.” 

Pearl rolled her eyes, hauling herself back onto her seat. The figure in the dark ducked into the cave, stooping a little to fit. He kept his hood up, unlike Cub, but his cloak required no brushing; even in the dying firelight, the knights recognised it as a mage cloak, specifically one for a bone mage.The garment, made of a black fabric as deep as the void, was lined with white runic patterns that met and convoluted on various points just above the fade-point– the part where the cape began dissolving into mist, gradually becoming more shadow than fabric. The hood, which sat low over the mage’s eyes, altered specifically for this mage, was similarly filigreed, with long slits down its length that revealed a pale white inner lining, a cowl resting over the lower half of his face. “‘Sup.”

“Hey, X!”

“Impy.” he nodded. His voice was soft, a contrast to his looming figure and noticeable, gigantic iron cavalry sword strapped to his side.

“Impulse, you know Isuma?” Mumbo shifted, turning so he could both see out into the forest and into the mouth of the cave.

“Impy?” Scar mouthed at Impulse.

“Shut up,” He mouthed back. “Yeah, I worked with him a while ago, slew a dragon. You still got that egg, X?”

“Hatched last winter. She’s doing well, hanging around the Lunar Mountains for now.”

“Nice.”

Cub stepped forward, “We’re here because of a rogue mage that’s been terrorizing the locals over the mountains. They’re probably a bonemage, like X here, but we’re not certain. They could be a lost mobborn too, like an illage-humanr or piglin-human mix, something with supernatural strength and speed. Not one of us, though,” He nodded to Scar, “I checked.”

“So you’ve met them?” Scar leaned forward, lifting his chin off Grian’s head, “What bonemage is powerful enough to fight off a vexborn alone?”

“Not alone– it was a vexborn, a bonemage, and a small but enthusiastic dragon named Suzie. And we’re working on that second part. In fact, that's why we’re here! And for your marshmallows, of course.” He stepped towards Pearl, who offered the bag of sweets to X and him.

“How magical are we talking here? They would have had to have a decent amount for you to assume a born or mage, but is it more innate or drawn from something?” Pearl warily glanced to Grian, determinedly keeping her voice nonchalant. They hadn’t teamed up in their Watcher forms for a long time, but if this person was as powerful as Cub made them seem, they might be forced to.

“X, you got this one, you got closer.” Cub’s response was muffled by an indeterminable number of marshmallows in his mouth.

X stepped forward, shifting the low trim of his hood out of his face with an annoyed flick of his head. The firelight flickered over his face, casting shadows that danced from the curves of his cowl up to his eyes, which flashed in the night. “Oh, sure! I got the impression that it was more innate, nothing like a Bonemage, where we have to borrow power from whoever’s around us. But, however they functioned, they weren’t really like any born I’d met,” He swiveled a little, glancing down to retrieve a book from his pocket. “I’ve been doing some research, and there’s a possibility– only a possibility at this point, so there’s no need to panic– that this individual could be a Watcher.”

Pearl again glanced to Grian. The Order probably knew about Grian’s Watcher form, but Pearl had neglected to tell them– and the Order didn’t take kindly to being lied to. She had been able to mask her magic with the help of an inhibitor necklace, hidden under her tunic, but nothing would be able to mask the look of a biblically-accurate sphere of eyes and rays of divine light. Probably. She’d burn that bridge when she got to it.

“So let’s say we’ve got a Watcher on our hands,” Impulse leaned in, “because we both know you wouldn’t have called us if they were anything else. Or brought in Isuma, for that matter. What sent them off the edge? And what can we do about it? We could take this person down without force if we can snap them out of whatever triggered them,”

Grian nodded. “Watchers nearly never go full-angel-mode unless we’re provoked. If we’re dealing with an open, full Watcher, something bigger is almost certainly happening behind the scenes that we have to be ready for.”

“That was my thought, too,” X sighed.

“So what do we do about it?” Mumbo said, still peering out into the dark, “Or, what is it that we’re dealing with?”

“That’s why I’m here. There’s something stirring here, something old. The bones of the earth herself are shifting. I fear something may awake,” He gently grabbed a marshmallow and chomped into it with gusto, ignoring the tension in the air, “and me personally, I don’t want to encounter something that can vaporize us by thinking about it.”

“I’ve noticed that too,” Grian reached into his pockets, taking out a mossy stone, “The grass has been telling me her secrets.”

“... the grass has what?”

“The grasses hold the key, I’m telling you. There's this tall grass, one I’ve been searching for, one that the trees whisper about when you walk past them really quietly. They hold knowledge, these grasses.”

“Grian, have you been talking to the grass?”

“Yes?” Silence.

“... uh. Ok. Let’s table that revelation for now,” Impulse sideyed him, “Game plan. Do we go for the Watcher–”

“--Probably Watcher–”

“--Yes, thank you X. Do we go for the Probably Watcher, or for the ancient stirrings of the world itself, first?”

“I’m going to be honest, neither of those sound like good options,” Scar wrapped his arms more tightly around Grian’s torso. “I’m more worried about– Well. If one Watcher got triggered out by this great stirring, who’s to say that it won’t trigger another? Is it the best plan to get close to this situation, knowing we could make it worse?”

Cub glanced at X, his eyes shifting between him and the knights’ seats. “That’s… the difficult part of this. We need your help, but we can’t get any other Watchers too close. Gods know we don’t want to fight anyone who gets taken over by this thing,” He paused meaningfully, looking Grian in the eyes, “we need the knights, but we need anyone fey out of action. That includes me,” he turned to Scar, “you, your soulbound,” to Pearl, “and any other Watchers who may or may not be in the room with us right now.”

“No.”

“I– no? Mumbo?”

“If they’re out, I’m out. I don’t know about the others here, but I took an oath with the Order to stick together.” He looked at Cub, defiant, but his eyes softened at the worry on his old friend’s face. “I’m not fighting for something that’s going to put my fa– my friends– in danger.”

Pearl nodded. “I’m with him.”

“I’m out too. We fight together, or not at all,” Impulse said. He eyed Cub. “And more of us are fey here than you seem to think. You’ve managed to approach the most fay-filled section of the Order that there is, dude.”

Cub sighed. “I guessed as much. You’ll have to investigate the backside of this, then, if you’re still down to help. Find who this person is, what they want, what’s causing all of this, while X keeps them from destroying the entire countryside.”

“Will you be able to hold your own?” Pearl plunked another marshmallow onto her stick, “You already said this person managed to hold you two off, how will you keep them back?”

“I should be okay,” X said. “I’ve already messaged a few mages from sects in the area. We should end up with one of each of the branches, if everything goes smoothly, with an extra Stonemage to spare.”

Impulse stood, marshmallows abandoned. The arrow he had them speared on was smoldering. He ignored it. “Good luck then, X.” He shook his hand. “And you, Cub. We’re a call away if things go bottoms-up.”

Cub smiled, adjusted his glasses. “You always are. Best of luck to you, knights. We’ll be off, we have some Stone–” he glanced at X, who shook his head, “Soul–” 

“Nope.”

“-- Earth?”

“Bingo.”

“Yep, Earthmages to meet.”

[evilhausen]

Piss on me. Fucking piss on me but do it in the antarctic so that the pee freezes in mid air while you are pissing off a building and the piss turns to spear’s. impale me with frozen urine and then shit on my butt corpse. Im a fat gay and I want to go to Ice Hell ftw.

Me x Reader, Explicit, pwp, piss kink, murder kink, major character death.

The glare of sun across pristine white snow was enough to blind bb even through the lenses of their very cool and not cringe aviator sunglasses. Wind-cut, burnt cheeks pinched up as they smiled, coffee-stained yellow teeth crooked and closed around a watermelon lollipop.

Balanced as they were on top of the research facility, they could have been some kind of affront to heaven, an angel made wrong and unkind. Bundled up in clothes to survive the inhospitable arctic, they could also have been an elongated marshmallow, unfit for human consumption.

Unfit for consumption, and yet Y/N was about to try.

Two weeks of connection was all it had taken for Y/N to steal bb’s heart, and for Y/N to find bb just kind of okay as a general concept. What was perfect was how bb would trip over themself to do anything for Y/N.

How could they not, though? Y/N was beautiful, in appearance and wit, in love and in lust. Giving them anything, everything, they could possibly desire came naturally to bb. Holding each other tight in bed, until Y/N complained about the sweat and the humping. Discord Nitro, for bb’s little Discord Kitten. They even featured in bb’s Twitter bio before the Great Musk fake assassination scandal shut the internet down for good.

Wasn’t it love?

How bb’s heart melted, having Y/N’s head in their lap, playing idly with their hair and ears as they both read cringe on their phones. How Y/N would lay kisses and bites over bb’s shoulders. Wasn’t it everything worth living for?

How bb’s hands would touch each easy curve of Y/N’s body, admiring and massaging. How Y/N would always make a coffee for bb each morning.

Wasn’t it how they got in this mess in the first place? Y/N had found in bb a perfect candidate for their most perfect desire; to be pissed on and then have their butt corpse shat on.

“Are you ready, my dove?” bb called from the roof. “You look like a mellowpuff down there.”

Y/N could not hear them, but they were ready. Of course they were ready. They had been ready for years now. This was all they desired.

Ice Hell would welcome them with a throne ready to be warmed.

bb quickly whipped their dick out, fingers made clumsy by snow gloves, fumbling with their soft, shrunken peenus. They had drunken litres upon litres of water for this very moment, even though we all know water is fucking revolting to drink. Anything for love.

It started with a drip. A dribble that iced its way down their wrinkled shaft. Then it became a stream as they tipped their head back and led go with a relieved sigh. Forgetting to aim, it could all have been alright. If only they had missed. If only.

But the piss fell true and hit its target fairly.

There was no pain. 

The frozen piss, cold and sharp, speared through Y/N’s body, soft and warm, so easily it could have been a dream. A beautiful, lusty dream.

For Y/N, it really was a dream – one that had finally come true.

Despite the lack of pain, they could feel it. The pisscicle had gone through their chest, sliding in as they had held their arms open and aloft in wait for the rapture of it. It did not end them immediately, and for this they could only be grateful. Their body spasmed, not from pain or injury, but as they experienced a double orgasm.

bb was now deep inside them, deeper than any other lover had gone before. Nothing could have been more intimate than this.

“Oh no, oh fuck no, Y/N!” bb cried, dick sticking to their hand like a tongue to a frozen spoon. They tripped their way downstairs, crying into their aviators, feeling the hot salty slick tears on their face - hot salty slickness like the piss that was killing Y/N now.

They collapsed to their knees where Y/N had toppled over. When had they toppled over? They were experiencing too much ~pleazure~ to notice. 

“No, please, don’t leave me. I didn’t know– I didn’t know my pee would freeze on the way down. I didn’t–” bb tried, leaning over Y/N and gathering them into a desperate hug, awkwardly manoeuvring around the piss spear still sticking out of their body.

“Shhh, shh. It’s okay.” Y/N tried to raise a hand to touch bb’s face, wanting so badly to slap them and shut them the fuck up. “It’s beautiful. Just like this, bb. Just like this. It’ll be okay.”

“No, I… I can’t continue without you.”

Y/N coughed as they tried to speak, taking a few rattling breaths before they managed to continue. “But you will. You must. At least long enough to shit on my butt corpse.”

“But–”

“For me? P– Please?”

“I…. Okay. Okay. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I know.” Then Y/N died.

“Now they will never know what I risked for them,” bb whispered sadly, holding their cold but it was already cold from being in the antarctic body in their arms. “Prison for piss crimes. And also the NFT I made of their voluptuous ass cheeks that I then lost millions on due to insider trading.”

In Ice Hell, Y/N’s orbish orbs snapped open. They levitated into an upright position, ready to sit on the throne. Except someone stood in their way.

Castiel Supernatural stood there, looking sad in his coat. 

“You.” Y/N looked him up and down, horrified and confused. “But it can’t be. You went to freakin’ super hell. This is Ice Hell.”

Castiel gave his sad cat smile. “Pussy slay like a Lil Nas X secret album drop.”

The two settled into a fight stance. 

MORTAL KOMBAT: BAITED COMING JANUARY 3 2023

[drazzilder]

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder 

WARNING: NSFW/R18+

Chapter 27: The Beach

It’s the start to the Japanese new year celebration and you took the whole family to the Bahamas to enjoy some sunny weather. It was only a few days prior that you got the all clear to go back to hero work so you took this time to celebrate that too. Everything is going much better now; the citizens are even getting used to you and Enji and public. They better, because he can’t keep his hands off you. Even though you were not working, you would still meet him for lunch every day. You even talked to Hina about Rei. She apologized for lying to everyone but they all understood. You thanked her for making sure the kids were safe and that she believed in you.

The first few days on the beach were great, everyone was enjoying the sun and the crystal-clear water. Even Zaheer got into fun. It was weird seeing him in surf shorts but it was nice to see him relax. He was throwing the kids into the ocean, racing them in the water while laughing the whole time. You don’t know how you got so lucky to have not only find love but a family that loved you. The only problem you had at the beach was Enji, or should you say his body. Seeing him come out of the water all Bay Watch style, it practically gave you a heart attack. The water drops glistening in the warm sun, his muscles flexing with every movement, and something about him in board shorts just rocked your world. Plus, he wore these silly flame shaped sunglasses you bought him as a  joke but he actually liked them which makes you laugh constantly. You tried your best to not have sex with him right on the beach but you managed. Each night, you made a fire on the beach and everyone ate marshmallows and s’mores.

The kids had to go back home the day before you and Enji did, which was on purpose to give you two a day alone. The place you were staying was a small house on the beach, the front door went right to sand. Everything was just perfect on your final day. The morning you woke up to a flurry of kisses to your face. After breakfast, you go back to the beach again, this time without the kids made things better. You would swim together, lounge in chairs together, and of course make out constantly. This continued till after dinner when you got back to the cabin. Poor Enji got a little sunburned over the trip but he will manage. You’re both laying on the bed, looking at each other. You can’t just help falling for his blue eyes as he speaks.

“It would be a shame if my little flame didn’t get to enjoy his final day before work without something….special.”

“I have an idea of what I want.” you growl.

You start slowly making out as you can’t keep your hands off of each other, feeling each other’s bodies slick with lotion and sweat. You two continue this for a while when Enji stops for some reason. That’s when you notice what he was looking at.

“Zaheer, what are you doing?” you turn to face him.

“I have needs.”

“Enji, what does he mean?”

“He wants to have sex with us.”

“WHAT?”

“I’m sorry if I’m imposing but watching you guys in love day after day, it makes me want to be a part of it. I want what you have.”

“Well, Enji what do you think?”

“Honestly, I have wondered when he would join us since he can leave your body. When you think about it, I have been having sex with both of you.”

“He isn’t wrong, I can feel everything you feel (Y/N). I also will admit I might have fallen in love with both of you.”

“Really, a love triangle? This is the last thing I expected. What do you think, Enji?”

“Well, I’m ok with it as long as my little flame is happy. I normally would hate to share you but Zaheer already lives inside of you. Maybe we can try some new positions.” He says as he gets close to your ear, almost whispering.

That’s when Zaheer laid down on the bed, the frame creaking from his massive weight. Enji is behind you, Zaheer in front as they both close in on you. Zaheer takes his monstrous hand and places it behind your head. He pulls you in as begins kissing your face. He is so much larger than you so it’s more like he’s eating your face. His warm breath is causing fireworks to go off in your head.  Enji then squeezes closer as he kisses your shoulders and neck, using his quirk to make each kiss almost burning hot. Zaheer uses his other hand to keep all of you tight together. You begin moaning and wiggling between them, their bodies driving you insane. You couldn’t help yourself as you cum in your shorts but everyone was too busy to notice. Enji then begins to peel everyone’s shorts off. You look down to see what Zaheer has been hiding. He is fully hard at an inhuman 13 inches long and almost 3 inches wide.

“I’m sorry Zaheer, I already came.” You say shamefully.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re being overwhelmed with both of us. Want to try something fun?”

“Anything for you two.”

“Enji, follow my lead.”

That’s when Zaheer starts shifting everyone around as he lays on his back, he places you on his chest with Enji at his waste. He gently forces your head down as you begin to get the idea. Enji starts grinding Zaheer’s massive cock between his ass cheeks as you start sucking on Enji’s shaft. He starts moaning in excitement as you start going wild on his cock. He soon sees why. You are using his cock as a distraction against the full-on invasion Zaheer is performing on your ass. He is using two of his massive fingers to ready you, each finger could be someone’s arm they are so big.

“Take it slow big guy, we don’t want to break him.”

“I’m just readying him for the finally. And I know his limit, I do live inside of him after all.”

Enji rolls his eyes but is stopped when you start sucking more violently this time as Zaheer uses his long tongue to toy with you. Enji starts going up and down, almost threatening to let Zaheer in his rear end but not quite. You’re whining the entire time as your taking an onslaught from both ends. It only takes a few moments more before Enji releases down your throat. This time you manage to swallow everything as he finishes. You release his still hard cock and turn around to face Zaheer.

“I think our little flame is ready.”

“Really, the pet names from you too?”

“Are you surprised?”

“I want to say yes but I’m not.”

“Enji, go to the end of the bed. You will know what to do next.”

You all begin shifting again as Zaheer puts his backside on the edge of the bed with you still on top. Enji lines himself up while Zaheer lines you up. He places his tip on your hole as he slowly lowers you onto his length. Even with the preparations, it is still a lot to take in as more and more of Zaheer enters you. That’s when you hear Enji begin to ram Zaheer with everything he’s got.

“Slow down Enji, you already came once.”

“I can’t control myself right now, I need more.”

Zaheer then appeases Enji’s hunger as he uses tail to start to spear Enji in the ass. Enji moans at this surprise but still continues slowly pumping in an out of Zaheer’s ass. You manage to fully accept Zaheer’s cock but after a moment to adjust, Zaheer lifts you up halfway then slams you back down. It feels like your insides are being rearranged each time he does this. The size of him could be felt through your stomach as each thrust continues. Zaheer starts to grunt and moan as the pace starts to pick up and Enji manages to keep pace himself.

“You both are starting to really have an effect on me. I’m getting close.”

“It’s ok Zaheer, go ahead.” You manage to moan.

“Me too, I can’t hold it much longer.”

You all ejaculate at the same time. Yours goes all over the demon’s face; his mouth opens to start accepting it all. Enji’s cock drives ropes of cum into Zaheer’s ass as his tail keeps holding Enji close. Zaheer’s release was, of course, the largest. You do your best but you start to leak from the volume as large amounts of semen being pumped into your ass. Zaheer leaves you there for a moment before lifting you off and leaking everywhere. You are placed on Zaheer’s chest and Enji climbs up next to you. You and Enji both start kissing Zaheer on both sides of his face, you’re running your hand through his beard as Enji rubs Zaheer’s chest.

“That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you didn’t hurt our little flame but it was good.”

“I have wanted that for so long. I have watched you grow into the man you are now (Y/N). I am so proud of you and I am happy to be a part of you. I really do love you both.”

You nuzzle against Zaheer’s chin as you begin to fall asleep next to Enji, Zaheer wrapping his large arms around the both of you.

Next Chapter

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Dr. Chilton Hates Camping [NSFW]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Blowjobs

For @thatesqcrush’s kink bingo!

Because for some reason this picture always makes me think Frederick is packing to go camping, and he would look exactly this miserable if he was. 

1,671 words

Feathery tops of pine trees swayed blue-green in a gentle northern breeze off the lake, the late summer air buzzing with a chorus of insects and birds. Golden light cast a hazy glow over your backcountry campsite as the sun began to sink in the sky. It was beautiful and serene. Perfect, even.

For the number of fancy galas and boring dinners Dr. Chilton dragged you to, it seemed only fair that he tolerate going camping. 

“Gah! Die, you blood-sucking fiend!” Chilton shrieked, and a smacking sound echoed off the lake. He grunted. Heavy, annoyed footfalls paced across the camp.

That was your first mistake—thinking Dr. Frederick Chilton shared your notion of “fairness” or the ability to tolerate things with fewer than five stars. All day since backpacking to the primitive campsite he complained there were rocks in his shoes. He was tired. His bag was too heavy. 

A small fire crackled in the center of a bare clearing in the trees near the lake shore. You dropped a larger log onto the tinder as the flames grew hungry enough to bear it, and excitedly rifled through a stuff sack for the makings of s'mores you’d packed.

There was a hissing noise behind you, and you choked on the bitter chemical air, covering your mouth as Chilton’s nuclear cloud of bug spray wafted over to you.

“Can you not spray that upwind of me, please?” you coughed.

He glared at you miserably and swatted another mosquito.

“This is not a fair trade. The things I bring us to are enjoyable. They are civilized, and... indoors!” Swat! “It is freezing, and—and damp, and these damned bugs want to drain me like a phlebotomist in training!” Swat!

“Sit by the fire,” you suggested. “It’s warm and dry, and the smoke repels bugs.”

“It does a better job repelling my lungs.” He stood taller and temperamentally fussed with the buttons of his wool peacoat (because why would he have worn sensible technical gear when he could look stylish). “If you need me... I shall be inside! Waiting until tomorrow when we can leave!” He turned on his heel and stormed into the small, orange tent, and gave his best effort at slamming the nylon zip-up door.

You speared a fat marshmallow onto the end of a stick and sat by the fire, making a s’more while grumbling to yourself about what a baby he was being. This could have been a nice trip if he wasn’t so—ugh!

By the time you finished the crunchy melty treat, you felt much better. It got your blood sugar up, anyway. Sighing, you followed him into the tent.

Chilton had his reading glasses on and was squinting at the glowing screen of his phone as he held it in the air trying to get service… which clearly was not working. You were way off the grid.

The tent flat unzipping caught his attention, and he gave you such a pathetic look as you ducked inside. His always-perfect hair was droopy where it usually stuck up and fluffed up where it was usually slicked down.

“It is damp and cold in here too,” he whined. “And the floor! The floor is lumpy. How will I sleep?”

Your heart softened at the sight of him. He was just so adorable it made your cheeks burn. Crawling onto the sleeping bag he was sitting on, you reached out and gingerly plucked a twig from his hair.

His eyes widened in mortification, and he quickly patted down his head for any other horrible bits of nature that might have latched onto him. “This is not my idea of fun,” he said.

“Well, I’m happy that you tried it for me. Really, I’m impressed you actually came.”

His eyes darted down to your lips, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting, and one cheek twitched briefly into almost a smile. “You wanted to do this,” he said gently. Of course he was going to come.

You leaned forward to close the distance and kissed him. His eyes shut and he moaned softly into your mouth, his frazzled, exhausted, itchy body locking onto you as source of comfort like a heat-seeking missile.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmured, lips breaking away just far enough to breathe your air, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Have you ever had s’mores?”

“Of course I have,” he answered, a little offended at the implication. He was not so sheltered and elitist to have never roasted a marshmallow. “Not since I was a child…”

“I can make you one. Or if you come out, we can sit by the fire and make them together.”

He thought about it. You had straddled onto his lap, and your body heat was all the more enticing against the annoyingly wet air and cold floor. He was feeling a little less awful about the whole situation.

“But first…” you purred, hand running down the front of his shirt, continuing lower, “I was wondering how I could thank you. Since you’re doing this for me… maybe I can do something for you?”

He inhaled sharply, Adam's apple bobbing as your hand reached the front of his pants, searching between his legs. His eyes, as blue-green as the pines, fixated onto yours, but then rapidly blinked and darted around his surroundings.

“You want to do that outdoors?”

“We’re inside a tent.”

And yet he could hear squirrels chittering as if they were right inside the tent with them. The thin nylon was hardly a barrier at all, and it all felt a bit shockingly exhibitionist. But then, no one was around for miles apart from birds and squirrels who could see or hear you. The devilish idea stirred him that he could fuck you right out in the open if he wanted, like two wild animals rutting in the woods.

Exhaling a deep, breathy growl, he grabbed your face and pulled you back into a burning, fiery kiss. You grinned as he broke it, eyes still burning into you as he pushed you down to his belt.

He leaned back on his elbows, taking the passive role and letting you unbuckle his pants and slip his cock out of his underwear. He drew a sharp, quick breath in through his teeth as your tongue made contact with the tip of his head, and let it out long and easy and shuddering as the wet warmth of your mouth engulfed him. You nursed his semi-soft cock, enjoying being able to hold all of him in your mouth at once so easily, sucking and teasing it, feeling his arousal grow—his pulse getting stronger, throbbing under your tongue as his cock lengthened.

When he finally reached his full, exquisite hardness, he was too big to take in his entirety without choking. You pumped his shaft with your hand, bobbing in his lap as he let out helpless little whimpers, stroking your hair tenderly. He was always vocal in bed, but especially when he was feeling needy. He really needed to be comforted now, and you relished every shiver and moan of pleasure that told you you were doing a good job.

His fingers spasmed reflexively, pulling your hair as you took him deeper, opening your throat until you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes watered with the effort, but it turned you on feeling how much he loved it. You wanted to please Frederick so much he’d remember this trip fondly for a long time. You worked him with everything you had, twisting your hand around his shaft as you pumped it, flicking your tongue over the underside of his cock, stroking his balls, and hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him into oblivion, listening to his gasps of pleasure grow louder as he came completely undone.

His eyes squeezed closed and he threw his head back. You felt his abdominal muscles tense and twitch, and at last he could not hold his hips still and passive, and they began to jerk up into your mouth, pulsing at a rapid and shallow pace. You matched his tempo, bobbing faster on his cock, and within three shallow thrusts he shook and came with a forceful whimpering cry of your name. His hips kept pulsing and twitching as hot, salty cum flooded your tongue.

He fell back on the sleeping bag, panting. You held him in your mouth until you were sure you had licked him clean, then buttoned him back up.

He watched you lick your swollen, shiny lips with satisfaction, admiring your beauty and your skill at making him feel… amazing. It still surprised him sometimes when he stopped to think about it—that you had chosen him. Out of anyone in the world, he was the one lucky enough to have you. It really was incredible.

“I begin to understand how my primitive ancestors got by,” he hummed.

You laid yourself next to him and he happily made room for you to curl up under his arm, wriggling as you settled beside him. He was so warm, like a furnace. Funny and charming. Overdressed. Wickedly smart. God, you loved him. The woods were the last place he should be, you laughed to yourself at your own foolishness in dragging him there. He was not at all the masculine adventure type. There was no hidden rugged side deep down waiting to spring out. But it made you want to take care of him all the more. Your stuffy, helpless, whiny, suit-wearing, scotch-sipping Frederick, who braved the wilderness just to please you.

You kissed him again, warm and tender in his arms. He smiled, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Come on,” you sat up and crawled to the front of the tent, beckoning him. “Douse yourself in bug spray, and lets sit by the fire, stuff ourselves with s’mores, and watch the sun set over the mountains.”

“I suppose...” he considered it, eyes narrowed cautiously, “it does not sound that horrible.”

[tsuki-chibi]

Trolling Alya - Part 9

Starting from the beginning on AO3: Trolling Alya

--------

“Ugh, that was so gooooood!” Alya moaned, clutching her belly. “I’m so full!”

“Food cooked over a campfire always tastes better,” Nino said, straightening his cap. “It’s a proven fact.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Marinette said, amused. She leaned back and groped around until she found the bag of marshmallows, the pulled it into her lap. Three pairs of eyes watched her with greedy intent as she picked up one of the rods her maman had packed for them. Pretending that she didn’t notice the stares, Marinette whistled softly as she extended her marshmallow over the fire.

“Gonna share?” Adrien asked pointedly, and when she glanced up, he had the kitty eyes out in full effect.

“I suppose,” Marinette said, passing the bag and three more rods over. Adrien took a marshmallow for himself and stuck it on the end of the rod, then poked it into the fire.

Alya and Nino were preoccupied getting their own marshmallows ready, but Marinette frowned. She opened her mouth to tell Adrien that he was holding his marshmallow way too close to the center of the fire when his marshmallow promptly fell off the rod and into the heart of the fire. Adrien gave a horrified exclamation and came within a hair of diving in after it; she threw her arm out just in time to stop him.

“My marshmallow!” Adrien wailed, which made Alya and Nino look up.

“Tough luck, Dude,” Nino said sympathetically. “Want another?”

“Yes,” Adrien said, with all the intent of someone who has been grievously wronged, and grabbed the bag back from Nino.

Four marshmallows later, Alya was trying not to laugh, Nino was shaking his head, and Adrien was close to tears. He’d lost three more to the fire and the fourth was currently a smoking, charred mess on the end of his rod. He pulled it away from the fire and brought it close to his face, looking at it with such a mournful expression that Marinette’s heart twisted.

“Do you want me to do one for you?” she asked gently. Her marshmallow had been perfect, lightly browned on the outside and soft and gooey on the inside. She licked her lips, tasting the remnants, and was fully expecting Adrien to accept her offer, but he shook his head.

“Thanks, but I want to do it myself. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Adrien said. “I’ve never done this before…”

He sounded so sad, and Marinette started to feel guilty as she realized that this wasn’t just about losing a treat. Adrien always got upset when everyone else knew how to do something and he didn’t, especially when it was something that most kids would already know how to do or which would be considered common sense. He hated being reminded of the fact that he had missed out on so much by having such a restrictive childhood.

She set her pole down and stood up, moving to sit beside him – the benches were small, but there was enough room for both of them if they squeezed. Adrien blinked at her as she took another marshmallow out of the bag and held it out. Slowly, he took the marshmallow and speared it on the end of the rod. Marinette smiled at him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Like this,” she said softly in his ear, putting her hands over his.

Together, they moved the rod forward. Adrien’s instinct still seemed to be to aim for where the flames would cook the marshmallow to a crisp; Marinette corrected him with subtle pressure, holding the marshmallow at just the right angle so that the flames licked at the surface.

“Watch it,” she whispered. “Don’t take your eyes away for even a second. That’s all it takes for them to go from just right to burnt mess.”

“Okay,” Adrien said determinedly. That made Marinette smile, and she couldn’t resist hooking her chin over his shoulder. She let go of his hands, instead settling her arms around his waist.

“Now!” she said, and Adrien quickly pulled the rod back.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, looking at the lightly browned marshmallow with such happiness that Marinette wished they could bottle it. If everyone in Paris could get regular doses of that, Hawkmoth would be out of business.

“You did it,” she agreed, smiling even wider. “Now’s the best part. Eat it!”

He grinned and obeyed, sinking his teeth into the gooey marshmallow. In his enthusiasm, he ended up with a glob of white fluff on the tip of his nose. Marinette couldn’t help laughing as she lifted one of her hands and wiped the marshmallow away with her thumb. Adrien chuckled too, setting his clean hand on her waist and leaning further into her.

A strangled sound to her right made her turn, belatedly remembering that they weren’t alone and that their friends were there too. Alya was staring at them with a frankly disbelieving expression. Nino was now the one trying not to laugh. It took Marinette much longer than it should have to realize just how intimately she and Adrien were behaving. There was literally no space between them right now and it was driving Alya crazy.

What a golden opportunity.

“Think you can do the next one on your own?” Marinette asked, turning back to Adrien. He knew what she was thinking, of course. His eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“I dunno, Mari. The only reason I did it right was because you were here. I’d hate to lose anymore marshmallows,” Adrien said. “I think you should help me again.”

“Well, if you insist,” Marinette said.

Nino cleared his throat. “Actually, we brought stuff for smores,” he pointed out, rummaging around until he pulled out a couple chocolate bars and graham crackers.

“I’ve never had a smore either,” Adrien said, momentarily distracted.

“Oh! Then let’s get you one right away. Better let me do them,” Marinette said cheerfully. “Not much room to manoeuvre though, is there? I need space. I better move.” She stood up –

And then sat down in Adrien’s lap.

Alya started coughing like crazy. Even Nino looked surprised. Adrien was shaking with the effort of trying not to laugh; it was his turn to wind his arms around Marinette’s waist as Marinette put two marshmallows on the end the rod.

“M-Marinette,” Alya sputtered out finally. “Do you think that’s appropriate?”

“What?” Marinette asked, all wide eyed innocence.

“You’re sitting on Adrien’s lap,” Alya said.

“I’m closer to the fire this way,” Marinette said. “And Adrien doesn’t mind, right?”

“Not at all. My best friend can sit on me anytime,” Adrien said. His control gave way slightly, and Marinette heard a wobble in his voice that belied his desperate bid not to laugh. She herself had to turn away from Alya’s flabbergasted expression and focus on the marshmallows.

[zevlors-tail]

Congrats on reaching 300 follows! Could I be paired up with a male student? Im a 5’5 dark skinned girl and Im a bit shy but is a mega goofball after getting to know me. I like the color green and I love hoodies :3

Of course! And thank you, it means a lot that there’s at least 300 of you out there reading my stuff- that’s just crazy for me to think about!

I match you with: Izuku Midoriya! 

-Izuku just likes to make friends with everybody. There’s no such thing as not-being-friends with Izu. So of course, even if you’re a tad shy, he’ll reach out to you and put in lots of effort to see you! He’ll do his best to make you feel comfortable around him and get you to open up.

-He’s the one to suggest hanging out or doing things together while he’s getting to know you at first. He wants to know what you’re like, and the best way to do that is to see you on a somewhat regular basis! He’ll take you to the mall, buy you snacks, and if you hang out at each other’s houses, it’s inevitable that he gushes to you over his All Might collection. Showing that collection to you is his way of opening himself up to you and hoping that you’ll do the same in return.

-The two of you are a hot mess; you both having feelings for each other, but you both won’t talk about them. Izuku thinks about it every time he sees you. He’s thought of every scenario he could possibly come up with that involves him confessing to you, but no matter how much he thinks about it, it’s so hard to actually go through with it. It takes him a long time to work up the nerves to tell you how he really feels about you.

-Loves that you’re a goofball. He’s just as goofy as you, if not more, so the two of you have a lot of fun together. You have way too many inside jokes to count, and they crack you up every time. When your friends get involved in your shenanigans, then it’s a problem, because the Dekusquad (that includes you) can wreck so much havoc on the school. Much, much more than the Bakuquad ever could, if we’re being honest.

-When he finally gets the steel to confess his feelings to you, it’s super sweet, but it’s also really corny. He puts a lot of effort into it though, and even asks his mom to help him out if he needs. Depending on your tastes, he’s going to cater the experience to you and make sure he does it in a way that you’ll actually like. Or, he could also likely confess on total accident as he’s rambling away about something. But if he has the time and manages not to spill the beans too early, a nice home cooked dinner and an All Might movie your favorite movie will be on the agenda for the day.

Fall Drabble: Hoddies

“Hey, Y/N, pass me another marshmallow!” Ochaco held out her hands as you reached for the bag of fluffy mallows beside you, waiting patiently until you grabbed an extra squishy one and plopped it in her palms.

“There you go! Anyone else?” You offered the bag to the small group around the fire, most of them reaching in and taking one. You and your friends had decided to have a bonfire tonight, complete with hotdogs, chili, and s’mores. The weather was finally cooling down this month, and that meant it was a perfect night to keep warm by the fire and catch up with one another. All of you were extremely busy with hero work and school most of the time, so it was hard to fit time in to see each other outside of the dorms. That’s why Asui had suggested a bonfire, and that was how you had ended up here with your closest friends.

“Oh! I wan’ ano’er one!” Izuku mumbled, his mouth half full with a s’more he had hurriedly stuffed inside of it.

“Are you sure? Looks like you haven’t even finished your first one yet,” you teased him with a laugh. 

He swallowed hastily and reached for the bag, to which you pushed it towards him and shook your head with a smirk as he took not one, but two marshmallows out before spearing them on the toasting stick. When he saw the look you were giving him, he cuddled up to your side and gave you a smug look.

“One’s for me, and the other is for you. I thought I could toast yours for you since you’re our honorary supplies hander-outer.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing, but I appreciate your noble act. There’s no one I’d rather have to toast my marshmallow than you.” You smiled lovingly at your boyfriend as Asui and Ochaco burst out laughing at your corny words, Iida and Todoroki cracking a smile as well.

“You’re sweeter than a s’more,” Izuku crooned back while nuzzling his face into your neck.

Though the comment he made had you blushing, you were suddenly aware of how cold your hands felt. You supposed you should have brought gloves, but in your excitement of finding out your friends were having a bonfire, you hadn’t really given extra clothing items much thought. It was the first time in a while you’d been outside, and you didn’t remember the temperature dropping this low. Fall was in the air for sure now.

You rubbed your hands together to create some friction, the cold numbing the tips of your fingers slightly as you held them closer to the fire. Izuku noticed the action, his gaze temporarily drawn to your fingers, and suddenly he was moving from your side to lean forward and clasp your hands in his own gloved ones.

“Are your hands cold?” he asked.

“Just a little...” you admitted sheepishly. You felt a little guilty for not remembering to bring gloves or a hat, or even a warmer jacket.

“Hold on, I think I brought some extra gloves. Let me see...” He reached over and grabbed the small knapsack next to him, rummaging around for a minute before sighing in annoyance and looking up at you. “Hm. I thought I brought an extra pair, but I can’t find them. I guess I must have forgotten them back at the dorm.” He gave you an apologetic look. “Do you want mine?”

“No, then your hands will be cold after a while, and I don’t want that.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, his green eyes focusing on something distant as he absentmindedly tugged on the sleeves of his favorite All Might hoodie. Suddenly he straightened up in his seat, then turned to you with an excited grin.

“Here, give me your hands.” He held both of his out palm up in front of you, motioning you to grab his hands.

“O-Okay...?” you replied, unsure of what he was planning. Regardless, you put your trust in him and rested your hands atop his. He carefully pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over your freezing fingers, then gave you a precious smile to melt your heart as he spoke.

“I can just hold your hands like this. Is that any warmer?”

“Much. Thank you, Izuku.”

Okay but why is everyone here so shippable with Midoriya I’m not trying to match you all with him just because I like him I swear D:

[keatsblue]

Want a Piece of Me?! - a Kiribaku Baking AU fic, pre-slash.

*** 

It was something he’d picked up from his mother, before she’d gotten too sick.

She’d let him roll out flour-dusted dough into thinned sheets, let him taste a batter mix or two on the tip of her spoon. Whenever he was tasked with packing the buttercream, he’d unerringly return to her with a dollop of icing on the end of his nose. She’d let out a laugh like windchimes as she wiped his face off with a multi-stained washcloth, would murmur, warm against the skin of his cheek as she kissed it—did my little dragon get greedy for some sugar again? Well, here’s some sugar!

Kirishima was her little dragon, and she’d made sure his early life was filled with candied nights and warm bellies, gingerbread castles with marshmallow spires.

After she passed, he kept it up to feel close to her.

He was far from an expert baker, but he knew his way around an oven. His hands were large and not the most suited to handling delicate fondant, but he managed. His arms were strong, good for hefting bags of fresh ingredients.

Pineapple upside-down. Triple-tiered, Italian wedding crème. Chocolate lavender truffles, topping his signature cherry cordial mousse. Delicate macaroons and finicky meringues, mirror glazes so seamless he could see his reflection. Kirishima baked his way through the entire grieving process, inviting his closest friends over for tastings, and he won.

I’m okay, mom.

He wasn’t certain when it had really started, this online business. Mina had actually made the first post, snapped the first photo. He hadn’t expected it to get a single comment.

It got hundreds. Then thousands.

People contacted him, wanting to know how they could make their own cakes look like that.

Kirishima obliged, of course. How could he not? He was going to bake anyway. Might as well help a few other amateur chefs while he was at it!

Mina helped him film. “I discovered you, so I’m your manager for life,” she’d say, with a wink. “Don’t forget about me when you make it big and become a world-famous baker, somewhere.”

World-famous, my ass, he always thought, whenever she’d suggest such a thing. He still made far too many mistakes, for that.

It was okay, most of the time. Many of the people who followed his little baking ‘show’ were more than understanding, and incredibly supportive. When he read their kind comments, it gave him a warm, fluttery kind of feeling—almost like one of his mother’s secure hugs.

There were always those few, though.

He was just getting off the rickety bus that stopped near his neighborhood when he saw it. He almost missed the last step on his way down, stumbling for a few paces as the telltale sound of a screen door sliding shut behind him signaled the bus’s departure.

However, Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to any of that. Instead, his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone, where he’d just called up his latest baking stream.

xxxx: ur cakes suck a**

He frowned down at the comment, checking the timestamp. So, it was just posted a few minutes ago.

Huh.

It was obviously a troll, no doubt about it. They didn’t even have a profile picture to go with the nondescript name. And usually, usually, Kirishima would just let comments like that slide right off his shoulders.

But he’d had a bad day. And it was funny, how something so small could pierce his heart sometimes, a sharp spear to the mighty dragon’s soft underbelly.

It was safe to say, making his way up the rusted-out stairwell to his college-budget apartment took a little more energy than usual. He jammed his key into the lock with punishing force, twisted.

The door swung upon under his palms, and the familiar scent of his home wafted toward him, riding along the sudden gust of warm air escaping. Kirishima was careful to shut the door quickly, before too much of the heat was let out. Breathed in the fruit-sweet smell from his kitchen, so if nothing else, the familiarity of it could ease his scattered mind.

His phone chimed, before he could get too relaxed. When he checked the message ID, though, he couldn’t help but smile.

alienqueen: ughhhhh I hate this asshole already

alienqueen: obviously, he’s never tasted 1 of kiri’s cakes

ducktapes: kiri’s cakes <3 ahhhh my heart

sparksmcgee: dude same, want me 2 get sweet vengeance?

As soon as Kirishima’s smile had appeared, it vanished. He frantically opened the chat, his thumbs too large to type with the speed he needed.

There was no way to tell if Denki was serious. And his friend could do it, too—every day, Kirishima thanked his lucky stars he was on the excitable hacker’s good side.

kiricakes: no need!! it’s just a troll, guys

kiricakes: super manly of you to think of me, though

sparksmcgee: ur too nice, fams

sparkmcgee: guess the troll lives… for now

ducktapes: TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! THERE’S A-

alienqueen: aksnfkasnof

kiricakes: lolllllll

Before long, he was able to lose himself in mindless chatter. The antics of his friends never failed to bring his spirits up. He plugged his phone into one of the few outlets in his crummy apartment, embedded into the wall just over the kitchen counter, so he could continue the conversation even as his battery started to wane.

The hours grew long, though, and time was scarce mid-week for exhausted, assignment-laden college kids. It wasn’t a surprise when Denki soon begged off on some coding or another that he had to re-run, or when Sero and Mina similarly slipped away (they were researching something together for Comparative Physiology, it was all very much over Kirishima’s head). In the end, he was left with only his thoughts, and an empty kitchen.

He locked his phone, and the screen went dark. He could see his reflection in it, baggy eyes and downturned lips. A shock of red hair, which had once been midnight-black.

Like his mother’s.

Kirishima turned his head. In the low light, his appliances gleamed from their shelves. Almost mocking, in a way.

“My cakes don’t suck,” he said, to no one. His grin stretched wide, and he could tell from the burn of it that he was showing far too many of his sharpened teeth. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He set his phone to record, and made another cake. It was triple-tiered, funfetti, because that was the batter mix he had on-hand. He watched the batter rise within his dented iron pans with all the patience of a general considering the battlements—or perhaps, a dragon considering its’ hoard.

Any spare buttercream was packed into a dispensary, silken and primed to hold his creation together. He spliced it evenly between his cakes with a practiced ease, layer after layer.

Then, the whipped frosting. It was a simple recipe, one of the first he’d learned. He worked the whipping cream within a chilled bowl, adding scoop upon scoop of powdered sugar until the mixture obediently began to rise, forming soft peaks.

He made several batches, and then added some orange food coloring to each.

Fuck it. I’m in an orange sort of mood.

His second favorite color, after red.

All that remained was assembly.

… throughout the process, he talked.

Kirishima didn’t typically make a habit of speaking while he baked. He certainly didn’t speak while he recorded, but this—this was a special occasion. Soon, he found himself opening up in front of the camera like never before. He spoke of his mother, briefly. Of his love of baking, and how much he didn’t want to lose that little piece of her he had left.

It was all he had left.

The whipped frosting went on like a dream for him, a smooth and even ombre that when he finished, reminded Kirishima just a bit of an orange sunset. It was soothing, and right, and exactly what he needed.

He didn’t think much of posting the video, largely unedited, to his public account. His was still a small corner of the internet, after all—a solitary baking channel in a sea of thousands. Maybe even millions. How many people would even see it, really?

“Oh, and by the way, can you guys stop saying my cakes look like shit?”

It was only one cake.

With great effort, Kirishima stumbled his way to his bedroom. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, how much all that time in the kitchen had taken out of him.

Before his head even hit the pillow, he was out.

He dreamed of his mother’s sweets, and orange.

***

sparksmcgee: dude wake up

sparksmcgee: wake uppppp

sparksmcgee: KIRI

sparksmcgee: KIRI U GOTTA SEE THIS

sparksmcgee: KIRIIIII

sparksmcgee: fine, ignore me, Mr. Internet Sensation

sparksmcgee: wait I was joking, I was joking!

sparksmcgee: I’ll call u! I’ll do it!!

sparksmcgee: damn it kiri

sparksmcgee: just watch the fuckin’ video

sparksmcgee: https://twitter.com/Simplemachines_/status/1297739774795509761

***

Kirishima groaned, slamming a fist down on top of the source of that incessant beeping. It was too early in the morning for such ear-splitting noise.

But what was done couldn’t be undone. He was awake now, for better or worse.

He cracked one eye open, squinting against the bright blue light of his phone screen. Still bleary-eyed, he scrolled through all of Denki’s messages (seriously, man?) and pressed a thumb over the hyperlink his friend sent. It was probably just some dumb meme—

Wait. Wait.

That was his cake video from last night. And… that wasn’t all.

Some blond guy with an angry face took up the other half of the split screen, but he wasn’t doing anything. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Kirishima blinked. A… reaction video…?

He heard himself begin to speak, to layer the buttercream. Internally, he cringed.

Well. In his defense, he had been having one of those days—

He almost dropped his phone when the blond guy yelled at the top of his lungs.

“WHO WAS MEAN TO YOU?!”

Huh? Was this guy speaking… in Kirishima’s defense?

“WHO SAID YOUR CAKES LOOK LIKE SHIT?! POINT ‘EM OUT!”

Slathering on his nice, ombre whipped frosting, now. The blond guy (who was kinda cute, actually, even with his angry face) continued to watch and listen with rapt attention, occasionally letting out another unholy screech.

The video progressed to the part where Kirishima had begun describing his day, and really, he could’ve kicked himself. It’d just been a math test. He’d been excited at the time, because he’d gotten his grade back and hadn’t completely failed it, but now, he wondered. Who would want to listen to such inane, boring—

“YES! I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU, SHITTY HAIR!”

Shitty hair? Inadvertently, he felt the hand that wasn’t currently occupied supporting his phone drift up toward his hairline. He knew he applied a lot of gel, spiked it up on purpose. Surely it didn’t look that bad.

But even with that last comment, the guy had said a lot of nice things. And how manly, to post such a wholesome reaction video, where all the world could see?

His phone beeped again as a message banner flashed across the top of the screen. He opened it with a flick of his finger.

It seemed this time, Denki had messaged in the group chat. He didn’t have long to wonder whether his other friends had seen the video, either, messages were fired at rapid speed.

sparksmcgee: did you see it?!?? I found the guy! Your dream man!

sparksmcgee: his name is **drumroll**

kiricakes: denki, no

ducktapes: denki, YES

sparksmcgee: BAKUGOU KATSUKI, HE’S FROM JAPAN

alienqueen: Kiri go get your mans!!

sparksmcgee: if you want I can also get his credit card

kiricakes: DENKI NO

Bakugou Katsuki. Huh.

As his friends continued to bicker amongst themselves, Kirishima stretched out his limbs. He let out a soft sigh when his shoulders popped, already considering what he would bake himself for breakfast.

Maybe he’d have a slice of orange funfetti. And perhaps as he did, his mind would drift to an angry fan.

One he hoped to meet, someday.

[bowieandqueen11]

i have bad cramps right now and it will hurt to walk every now and then so can i request roger helping his s/o with getting dressed and going anywhere ?? and if they’re headed out him just constantly checking up on her ?? i really need fluff lmao

I’m so sorry darling I hate cramps they’re the worst!! But the best medicine is loads of fluff!!

You groan slightly, grunting awake as you shift against the cold cotton sheets that burn against your skin, your insides feeling like they’re being licked by thin streams of fire. You flinch, your eyes closing against the harsh beams of spring sunlight that fall through the half-closed Venetian blinds and hit your pupils as bright as the great stream of stars that flow through the darkest air. You sigh helplessly as you feel the cramps begin to rumble in your abdomen, flinching in on yourself as they stab like sharp spears piercing your skin, your head beginning to pound with the pain.

Curling into the fetus position, not even tempted to try and step out of the bed and into the bathroom, you don’t see Roger run in, sliding on the hard oak floor and tripping over his feet onto the bed, wearing nothing but light blue pyjama buttons and carrying a fuzzy dinosaur hot water bottle. He leans over you, his upside down head popping into your vision as your eyes flutter open, his mouth wide in a warm smile and eyes beaming as his hair falls down in straw straggles like a flying cherub. His strong arms begin to rub against your shoulders as he plops down against his feathery pillows, his bare skin coming to rest against your back as he kisses your neck, whispering a hoarse, ‘good morning, love. You were groaning a lot in your sleep last night so, for once in my life, I’m going to take care of you like you take care of me so well.’

The muscles of his chest twitch against your back as he shifts slightly, one slender arm dancing over your waist to rest against your abdomen, drawing soothing circles into your skin, grinning whenever you moaned in relief as his hands worked magic, before replacing it with the furry hot water bottle. He grabs your hand, his fingers gently tugging on yours as he gazes out the window, his blue eyes shining like sun beans reflecting off the calm azure ocean as he watches two thrushes hop off the branches of the nearby oak tree, their steps rustling the leaves gently before they fly off into the marshmallow clouds floating by like toy steam boats. He smiles contently, gazing down at you with such love as he strokes the stray hair out of your face, his free hand entangling in the curls as he gently runs his fingertips through your hair, finding childish enjoyment in playing with the strands that run between your fingers. 

He kisses the tip of your ear, his breath hot as it trembles out into the air, saying ‘we don’t have to meet Brian today if you’re not up for it, love’. You half-heatedly shake your head, making Roger shake his in peals of laughter, before he gently pulls you up into his welcoming chest, his skin hard and cool as you melt into his embrace. He leaves you setting at the edge of the bed, collapsed against the heat of the water bottle as your feet lightly swing over the side as he changes into a striped black shirt and denim shirts, shaking his hips cheekily and turning back to throw you over dramatic winks and waggling eyebrows as he pulls the shirt over the rippling muscles of his shoulders. He steps forward to raise you up gently, his hands grasping underneath your elbows as his fingers then go down to dance against the edge of your pyjama shirt, failing to pull it over your head and instead giggling as it becomes entangled in your arms. 

You huff in slight amusement as he falls down onto one knee with a plop, looking up at you for confirmation before tugging over your trousers, lifting your heels one at a time, as softly as melting butter and tossing them onto the bed. He spends the next ten minutes picking out an outfit for you, flashing you amused looks as you groan at some of his fashion matching disasters before sweeping you into his arms and trying to dress you without losing skin contact. It was a long twenty minutes before he finally managed it, running to the bedside table to grab his keys and fumble them into the back pocket of his jeans before winking at you, holding out one arm which you gladly entwined with your own.

You spent a mellow afternoon with Brian and Roger, with John on holiday in Bali and Freddie in Germany with Jim, lying in the park underneath the setting sun, the orange hues of the spring day lighting up the sky. As the sun behind the fleeting grey clouds, the warmth of dusk began to settle in your bones as Roger wrapped one arm around your shoulder, his sunglasses askew as he threw his head back, laughter erupting from his cherry lips at a silly story Brian had just told. The charcoal-black rocks circled around small stream of water by Brian’s side makes him look fairy-like, the water shimmering confidently against his broad back, as swans floated by gracefully, thin blades of grass crunching underneath his bottom as he mooched on the picnic blanket, sipping a small glass of orange juice. He leans back against the willow tree, his curls shaking as he looks knowingly at Roger and smiles. Roger gazes down at you, his eyes crinkling as he drinks you in, his heart thumping as his hand caresses up and down your palm, worry flecking his eyes from time to time as he checks you’re alright. As you smile up at him, comfortable in his arms and feeling at peace with the world as the wind brushes against your face, distracting you momentarily from the pain in your stomach, you sigh out and let the sounds of nature, the ripples of water and slight chirps of crickets surround you, knowing you would be safe in Roger’s clinging arms. 

[the-coconut-asado]

Oh Stumptown my Stumptown!

Portland likes to keep it weird. Officially. You could even buy the tee shirt if tee shirts weren’t so predictable.   

From a poster invitation to “Hear my TED Talk about DIY and Impending Doom” to the Big Legrowlski (sic) night club that hangs carpets on the walls -  not to balance the sound for the band but because they really bring the room together -  the City has an off-beat vibe that feels authentic even while it gets you scratching your head. And where else would you queue round the block for a voodoo-doll shaped doughnut with a pretzel stick through its ‘heart’?

You probably won’t be surprised when I tell you that Portland is  the Hipster Capital of the World. You know it’s hipster because it sells more coffee and has more microbreweries per head than anywhere else in the US.

We came for the food because People That Know told us to. It’s not simply that everything is delicious but that chefs, cooks, carts and food enthusiasts are trying to do different. It’s like Masterchef has landed in Twin Peaks. Entrepreneurs are making ice cream out of chickpeas and it works. A pastry chef has re-interpreted her favourite childhood book on a plate and you rejoice in the complex flavours of her tiny reconstructed bunny. So who’s the bunny boiler now?

One thing that puzzled me is why the City changed its name from the original Stumptown (pretty weird) to Portland (the Holiday Inn of city names). Devon, a local lawyer who we chatted to most mornings in Baristas Cafe, explained that Portland was never officially called Stumptown.  It became its nickname due to all the trees they had to cut down to build it, leaving the eponymous stumps in their wake. Stumptown is also the name of their iconic coffee brand, which I always assumed was NYC’s greatest invention. This is one of the many ways in which travel expands your mind.

Devon embodied something else about Portland: its friendliness. Even the passport officers are anxious that you have a good time. Full disclosure,  it wasn’t just Devon that we sought out each morning - it was Pepper, his cute little dog. I would eat Barista’s fresh, flaky rhubarb hand pie just to drop crumbs that Pepper would breakfast on. 

Devon put us onto a couple of great places to eat - one we made it to, one we didn’t. But more of that later.

Where to begin to describe this steel guitar food odyssey? Let me take you through our many highlights from the  mountain of food we consumed. Set it to the soundtrack of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Thing.

Our first evening, tired and hungry, we stuck to our guns and found Andina, the City’s Peruvian eatery. When you are both tired and hungry it’s easy to get seduced by posters boasting ‘Meatball Monday’ and forget your mission, but our persistence paid off. That legendary Portlandia hospitality squeezed us into a nook where there really wasn’t a free table, and we dined greedily on humitas, ceviche, lamb shank and seafood, washed down with Oregon’s finest home-grown Pinot Gris. I didn’t quibble that they brought something different from my order. In my fractured Spanish ‘Arroz con Pato’ probably did sound like ‘Seafood Risotto’  - and the risotto was obviously going to be delicious before fork met lip, so I didn’t send it back.

Next day, which coincidentally was Taco Tuesday, we hit the street food. 

Portland is big on street food (see: hipster capital of the world). Most food vendors have carts - permanent fixtures where the chef builds enough of a following over months or years to be able to open a small restaurant. Nong’s Khao Man Gai was just one of these. They do one dish - a Vietnamese poached chicken with a secret chilli sauce, accompanied by rice cooked in the chicken broth. You can also have a version with shrimp, pork or Tofu. We bought a bottle of the sauce to bring home. Life’s too short.

It’s not all carts - there are a fair few trucks too. 

One which specialised in cheese toasties challenged “ Come and relive the taste of your childhood. But if your childhood sucked, we’ll share the memory of ours”. Have you eaten a cheese toastie recently? I mean really felt the embrace of  a sandwich of molten cheese and fried bread? Maybe your childhood did suck after all.

That evening it was the turn of The Hairy Lobster restaurant, and that bunny dessert I mentioned earlier. Little Bunny Foo Foo to give it it’s full name. A delicate carrot cake, covered in cheesecake mousse, accompanied by a ginger crumb, caramel sauce and a marshmallow rabbit. 

Despite it’s show-stopping appearance and fusion of flavours, it was their roast squash with curry sauce and pumpkin seed praline that was the stand-out dish for me. The Lobster picnic for our main was pretty damn good too.

Friday brings me to Devon’s first recommendation, Pok Pok,  a teeny Thai eatery in the suburbs. Getting there had the added advantage of passing through a neighbourhood full of rambling old houses in the Amityville Horror style. I recalled the first time I had heard of Portland was from a TV thriller full of witches and jabberwocks called Grimm. They had definitely filmed it’s eerily beautiful moments around here.

If I had to single out a food highlight in a week of next-to-no food lows, I would choose Pok Pok. It gave me my first food coma in a long while. Something about it’s smoked aubergine, pork belly curry, marinated chicken with two dips, sublime mango with sticky rice and that rhubarb blush cocktail… I sense I am sharing my food coma with you now. Their signature dish is hot spicy chicken wings. The couple on the table next to us were too full to finish theirs so offered them to us. Maybe it was the wings that tipped me over the edge. I’ll never know.

And so to our last day, and the big daddy of Portland nights out: Jake’s Crawfish. Over 100 years old, walking into Jake’s is like walking into one of Sinatra’s memories. It has a justifiably stellar reputation, and seems to have maintained it for a century. I ate Steel-head trout for the first time, fished on their doorstep from Oregon’s Columbia River, coated with a horseradish crust, and preceded by half a dozen of the plumpest oysters I have ever eaten.

I haven’t yet mentioned Portland’s biggest hipster foodie habit: brunch. No matter what day of the week, the restaurants that brunch are always full. For most of our trip, we were waking up too early to really do brunch justice. Those rhubarb hand pies at Baristas had satisfied our hunger by around 8AM so a mid-morning banquet wasn’t really on. One day, however, we made it to Tasty & Alder in the Pearl DIstrict of the city and managed to sneak in a table for two before the queues built up. Worth it for their Green Frittata with salsa verde (who ever thought of doing that before?) and lightest, fluffiest American biscuits. We never made it to Devon’s second recommendation: Burmasphere, his friend’s Burmese cart on the other side of the river. And now we have an excuse to return.

When it came to rustling up some recipes that take me straight back to Portland weird, I whittled my list down to three: my version of Tasty & Alders’ green frittata with feta and salsa verde; a less labour-intensive version of Andina’s Arroz con Pato, made with chicken or guinea fowl; and in the spirit of weird, though by no means original, a cake inspired by Churros con Chocolate. The best possible end to a Taco Tuesday.

I messaged a friend of mine that had moved to Portland a few years back and asked why she had ever left. “ Too much rain and not enough art.” she said.  

You missed the point Sweetie. Great Food IS great art. And if you can’t stand the rain, get into the kitchen.

Green Frittata with Feta and Salsa Verde

A great little brunchy-lunch dish packed with flavour for the carb-conscious. If you want to add some carbs, slices of toasted sourdough will go down a treat. Serves 4

Ingredients

8 large free-range eggs

1tblspn, double cream

100g asparagus spears, chopped into 2 cm chunks

100g shelled garden peas or petit pois

50g feta cheese

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the salsa verde:

Small pack of flat-leaf parsley (around 15-20g)

½ a small pack of mint leaves

3 tbsp. Capers

7 anchovy fillets

1 clove garlic

1 tbsp dijon mustard

8 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

How to make:

Bring a small saucepan of salted water to the boil, then add the peas. After a couple of minutes, add the chopped asparagus and continue simmering for another 2 minutes. Drain and refresh under cold water. Put to one side.

Next, make the salsa verde. Put all the ingredients except the olive oil into a blender, season generously with pepper and go easier on the salt (anchovies and capers are already pretty salty). Then, add the olive oil and blend again. Don’t over blend at each step - it's nice to keep the texture a little rough.

Put a skillet on the stove and melt a knob of butter. Beat the eggs, add the cream and season. Lightly saute the green vegetables in the butter for a minute or two. 

 then pour the eggs over and crumble the feta cheese over the top. Cook for a couple of minutes until the bottom is starting to brown.

 pop under the grill to continue cooking, until the top is a light golden colour and the frittata has firmed up with a slight wobble (keep a close eye on this, probably takes 2-3 minutes).

Cut the frittata into 4 wedges and serve with a dollop of salsa verde on top.

Arroz con Gallina Picante

I never did get to eat Arroz con Pato in Andina, but while I adore the rich flavour of duck, devoting two or three days to confitting it before finishing the dish is only for the dedicated dinner party cook. This version with a spicy chicken and a feta-enriched herb sauce (based on a Melissa Clark recipe)  goes down just as well - or the richer Guinea Fowl, which I have used here. And Peruvian aji amarillo is now more available by mail order - substitute ordinary chile powder if not. Serves 4.

Ingredients:

1 medium-sized chicken or guinea fowl, jointed into 2 breasts, 2 drumsticks and 2 thighs (discard the back or freeze to make stock at a later date)

For the marinade:

6 garlic cloves, crushed

3 tbsp light soy sauce

1 tbsp paste made with aji amarillo powder and olive oil

Juice of 1 lime

1 tsp sriracha sauce

1 tsp. Dijon mustard

2 tsp ground cumin

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the sauce:

½ a large bunch coriander leaves, broken up

2 jalapeno chilies, chopped

75g feta cheese, crumbled

1 garlic clove, crushed

Juice of 1-2 limes

2 tsp chopped fresh oregano

½ tsp dijon mustard

½ tbsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)

1 tsp honey

1 tsp ground cumin

½ cup extra virgin olive oil.

For the Peruvian Rice:

3 tbsp sunflower oil

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 onion, finely chopped

3 heaped tsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)

½ large bunch fresh coriander, broken up and blended till smooth with a tblspn water

500g fresh chicken stock

300g bottle of beer or lager

2 x small green chillies, chopped finely

500g basmati rice

1 red pepper, chopped into small chunks

100g fresh garden peas or petit pois

How to make

First, make the marinade. Mix all the marinade ingredients in a large bowl, cover the fowl of your choice in it, cover with cling film and pop in the fridge for at least 4 hours or overnight.

For the sauce: put all the ingredients into a blender, and blend till smooth. Pour into a bowl, cover and refrigerate, taking out about 15 minutes ahead of eating to bring to room temperature.

For the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a saucepan, add the onion and garlic and saute until starting to turn golden. Add the blended coriander and chili paste  and cook for a couple of minutes until the paste has thickened slightly and smells delicious.

Pour the beer into the saucepan, cook for a few minutes then add the chicken stock. Bring to the boil, season, then take off the heat, cover and put to one side.

Heat the oven to 200C. Pat  the chicken or guinea fowl pieces dry, then pop onto a shallow baking tray, season and drizzle with olive oil. Put the tray into the oven and roast for 35-40 minutes.

While the meat roasts, finish the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a medium sized saucepan, add the peppers and cook for a couple of minutes. Then add the rice and stir into the oil and peppers until it starts to crackle a little at the bottom. Add the peas and chilies and stir again, then add the stock, beer and onion garlic mix. Stir, season if needed, then cover and simmer on a low heat for 25 mins.

Fluff up the rice and spoon onto plates. Top with the chicken or guinea fowl pieces, and crown with a dollop of sauce.

Churros Bundt Cake with Dipping Chocolate Sauce

I love churros, and I love a Bundt cake. If you want all the flavours but none of the faffing or frying, then give this a try. The cake will keep, covered in a tin. Just remember to reheat the chocolate sauce for dipping or pouring each time. Serves 8-10

Ingredients:

For the cake:

2 ¾ cups plain flour

2 tsp. Baking powder

2 tsp ground cinnamon

½ tsp. Salt

170g unsalted butter

130g caster sugar

50g soft brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 egg yolk

1 375g punnet of sour cream

2 tsp. Vanilla extract

For the cinnamon sugar ‘glaze’

2 tsp ground cinnamon

4 tsp caster sugar

For the chocolate sauce:

½ cup cocoa powder

Pinch chilli flakes

100g dark chocolate (70%)

1 cup double cream

½ cup dark brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

½ tsp cinnamon

How to make

Preheat the oven to 160C. Grease and flour a large bundt cake pan (make sure to get into all the nooks and crannies).

Beat the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl (ideally using an electric stand mixer) until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one and continue to mix between each addition, finishing with the egg yolk. Add the sour cream and vanilla extract and beat again until just incorporated.  Mix all the dry ingredients, add them to the butter and egg mix and fold in until smooth. 

Pour the cake batter into the bundt tin and bake for around 50-55 minutes until a skewer inserted near the middle comes out clean (I usually check the cake after 45 mins). Invert the cake onto a rack to cool.

Mix the remaining sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl. Melt the butter and paint all over the surface of the cake. Dust the cinnamon sugar over the buttered cake, making sure you pat it in places to stick.

To make the chocolate sauce. Pop all the ingredients into a saucepan, then cook, stirring constantly, on a low heat until the chocolate has melted, everything is smooth and custardy. Let it bubble slightly then turn off the heat.

Serve slices of the churros cake with warm chocolate sauce poured over. There are some who prefer their chocolate sauce served cold. That’s fine too.

[pherryt]

" Do you think stuff really happens on Halloween? Like... Supernatural stuff? " For destiel, if possible?

1137 words! Highschool au with fluuuuuff and a first kiss (what did i tell you @deadlyangelkay first kisses are my jam/kink/thing…whatever :) )

“-after that, once a year on Halloween, you can hear the ghost of old man Jenkins rattling his chains and moaning. They say if you’re one of the ones unlucky enough to hear him, then you’ll die before the night is over…” Charlie whispered her final words, the bonfire casting an eerie glow over her face.

Beside Dean, Cas shivered.

“You okay there, Cas?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just a little cold,” Cas answered his best friend.

“It’s just, I know you’re not a fan of ghost stories, man. And there’s no shame in that,” Dean offered. Cas shrugged. “Hey, let’s gran a couple of flashlights and go for a walk. It is pretty cold out here, maybe it’ll warm us up.”

“Yes, that’s a great idea, Dean,” Cas said eagerly, getting to his feet. “I very much like that plan.” Cas beamed at Dean and the teens heart skipped a beat.

It had been doing that a lot lately.

Especially around Cas.

Dean stood up and snagged two flashlights from the porch, handing one to his best friend with a smile. Cas accepted it after straightening his scarf and pulling his gloves out of his coat pocket, slipping them on. He already wore the matching black and yellow striped knitted hat on his head that Mary had given him a week ago for his birthday. Dean was happy to see that Cas was adamant at using them at every given opportunity (He may or may not have made the suggestion to his mom earlier that year. Mary then spent a month that summer knitting it all herself with a small smile while Dean blushed).

The early October breeze wasn’t nearly as cold as it could have been, but Dean used the excuse of Cas needing extra body warmth to walk closer to him. They left Dean’s backyard with a wave to their friends. Charlie acknowledged their departure with a wink and a wiggle of her eyebrows that made her look like she was about to have a seizure. Meg rolled her eyes. Sam was too wrapped up in Eileen to notice and Gabe was busy trying to show Balthazar he could sneak up on benny and scare him.

Dean almost snorted, silently wishing Gabe good luck because he knew Benny didn’t scare easy. Benny, of them all, acted the most normal. Simply waving Dean and Cas off before reaching for another marshmallow and spearing it on his stick.

At first, Dean and Case walked down the dark road in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence in a way neither boy was ever able to do with anyone else.

Finally, Cas broke the stillness with an embarrassed sound. “Do you think stuff really happens on Halloween? Like…Supernatural stuff? Ghosts and witches and, and…”

Dean smiled to himself at how adorable Cas was in his worry. “Nah, it’s all just good fun.” Dean assured him.

“But…Don’t you remember last Halloween when…when we saw a…” Castiel swallowed, not wanting to voice what he’d thought he’d seen.

“Trick of the light, that’s all,” Dean answered.

“Well, what about when everything in my room fell off the walls right after Gabriel said he’d seen a ghost?”

“Coincidence. Or the little shit was pranking you,” Dean pointed out.

“Remember the gypsy at that carnival that cursed us and then everything went wrong for a week?”

“She got lucky, Cas. Everyone has bad days, especially if their mental state is overanxious. We also had a lot of good luck that week. It balanced out fairly well, I’d say.” Dean hummed.

Cas sighed. “You must think I’m silly.”

“Nah, man, stuff happens. Maybe there are supernatural things out there, but I bet we’ll never really see it. But if we do…” Dean halted and so did Cas, turning to face each other, Cas looking at Dean with his head tilted, waiting. “I’ll protect you. You can count on me, promise.”

“Thank you, dean. That does make me feel a great deal better.” Cas smiled that gummy grin of his and Dean’s breath hitched as they stood staring at each other. Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Cas’s, so when the other teen shivered minutely, dean caught it.

“You still cold, Cas?” Dean asked, stepping closer. Cas licked his lips and nodded, very slightly.

“Maybe we should share body heat?” Cas suggested, a hopeful glint in his eye. Or maybe that was the flashlight reflecting off of it.

Dean let out a breath. “That sounds like a great idea.” Slowly, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him in gently, giving him time to back out, if Dean had misunderstood.

Instead, Cas went willingly, curling against Dean, his own arms tucked around Dean’s waist, head resting against Deans. Cas’s breath was warm against his ear and it was Dean’s turn to shiver, eyes closing. “Are we…” Dean cleared his throat. “Is this working?”

Dean could feel – literally feel - Cas frown against his cheek, lips brushing Dean’s cold skin like a hot brand and he swallowed. “I think we need something more, Dean. I’m still a little chilled.”

Cas pulled back a hairsbreadth so that they faced each other again, bodies nearly flush, their noses bumping gently. Dean flicked his eyes down from Cas’s eyes to his lips and back up again – and then down as he realized Cas had licked his lips. Dean’s breathing hitched again and then they were kissing. He had no idea who moved first, or maybe they both had or even if it mattered.

They were kissing.  His eyes fluttered close on a moan and his own mittened hands slid up to capture Cas’s cheeks, not even registering he’d dropped his flashlight to the road where it spun for a few seconds before settling in place, shining like a spotlight on the two boys. Cas’s hands mirrored Dean’s, cupping Dean’s jaw as they kissed breathlessly.

Finally, they drew apart, both boys feeling quite warm to their cores as the shared shy smiles and even a giggle or two. Dean bent to retrieve his flashlight and the two of them continued their walk, this time hand in hand.

“So, do you believe in the supernatural?” Dean asked, with a giddy feeling. He could feel Cas’s warmth even through two pairs of gloves. How was this even real.

“Dean Winchester, you have quite bewitched me since the day we met. I’m fairly ready to believe the supernatural is real from that alone,” Castiel said simply.

Dean’s eyes widened and he smiled broadly, squeezing Cas’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean. In that case, count me in as a believer too.”

Cas leaned into Dean as they walked, tipping his head onto Dean’s shoulder and sighing contentedly. Despite the brisk, night breeze, neither of them noticed the cold anymore.

Tagging:

@rosemoonweaver @jdragon122  @madamelibrarian  @destielonfire @trisscar368 @dmsilvisart @casanddeanwinchester @deadlyangelkay @feathers-and-cigarettes