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wandasaura · 2 months

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CRUEL SUMMER

summary — maybe you were oblivious to the way you teased natasha with a cherry flavored popsicle, or maybe you’d known all along and you were just waiting for her to break

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, temperature play, outdoor sex, nipple play, oral, degradation, food play (a popsicle and it’s never inserted), mild humiliation, semi orgasm control, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, brief domestic fluff, horrible popsicle stick joke, men/minors dni

authors note — a little summer snippet of our favorite couple! just wanted to expand on a little thought i had a few days ago!

you are in love

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The cherry flavor was tart as it spread across your tongue and tinted your lips the same color as Natasha’s hair, not your favorite flavor from the selection currently stashed toward the back of the freezer, but Wanda had mistaken it for strawberry when you asked so kindly for a treat. Your tongue swirled around the popsicle lewdly, catching each droplet of thawed syrup and ice before it had the chance to make a mess of your fingers. You had no desire to join your girlfriends in the pool, enjoying the stillness of the lounge chair that you made yourself comfortable against.

Despite your reluctance to plunge deep into the warm water, your body was covered minimally, triangular pieces of fabric concealing only what mattered most, although the visible swell of your breasts was undeniably tantalizing as rivulets of perspiration clung to you.

You waved at Wanda when she resurfaced, giggling softly at the disheveled appearance she sported despite her composed demeanor. The salt water had allowed kinks to form in her silky hair, and thin strands clung to her cheeks despite how she ran her fingers through her tresses and attempted to pull them taut behind her shoulders. She waved back, sending you a teasing wink before she was gone again, a blur of vibrant colors beneath the water as she kicked off the side of the pool and swam toward the deep end; her need for physical activity even on her days off boggled you, but a bored Wanda was not someone you wanted to deal with, so you watched her glide through the water with no outward commentary.

You sighed softly, eyes closing behind the thick frames of your sunglasses, tongue still working on the swiftly melting popsicle, savoring every ounce of tartness that dissolved on your tongue. You could always get up and retrieve another, but they tasted so much better when Wanda did the work for you, and you wouldn’t get so lucky if you asked her again. She’d just barely complied the first time, huffing beneath her breath about how she’d inadvertently turned you into a princess all while she disappeared into the house.

You frowned instinctively when something obstructed the warm sunlight cascading down against your face, inadvertently shielding your body from the gentle burn that was forming against your already tanned skin (this was not the first day you’d spent by the pool with your girlfriends, and it wouldn’t be the last until the cool days of September rolled around). The cloudless sky hadn’t provided anything more than a gentle breeze in hours, and curiously your eyes fluttered open, expecting to find a stray cloud to blame, though only to come up with a set of dangerous green eyes narrowed thinly in your direction.

Shyly, you peered up at Natasha, vibrant cherry popsicle still between your stained lips as you gazed at her sweetly. Droplets of salt water raced down her arms and perfectly toned thighs, sparkling beneath the sunlight she shielded you from. If you hadn’t been aware of how your movements taunted her before, you were now, realizing that her dazzling green eyes weren’t trained on yours like you’d initially thought, but rather watching closely as you lapped at the cool juices that threatened to dirty your hands and dragged your tongue slowly across the length of the frozen treat in an attempt to savor its subpar escape from the heat. Months ago, you would’ve apologized sheepishly, would’ve submitted beneath Natasha’s heavy stare the second it had fallen upon you, but now, with a refreshing confidence and security in your relationship, you moved the sunglasses up to the top of your head, holding her stare as you plunged the frozen treat as far as the wooden stick would allow, hollowing your cheeks only to suck in suggestively as you swirled your tongue around the treat.

“Parshivets.” She muttered beneath her in Russian, and while you were still learning her and Wanda’s native language, that single word was one of the few burned into your mind without translation. Brat. She’d called you that name for the first time only a few weeks ago, in a moment of intense connection that had both of your limbs trembling by the end, but somehow it had stuck just as easily as duckling had. You weren’t sure what you heard more of anymore, your name, or that single title that had wetness pooling in your panties instantaneously.

“Tvoy parshivets.” You rebutted, eyes narrowing challengingly as you glared up at her. Your defiance was the final straw, the last test of her patience, and within seconds, before you could even comprehend what was coming next, your beloved popsicle was in her hands and between her lips. “Hey!”

“Shut up.” She grumbled around the treat, slowly stalking closer, pressing her thighs into the edge of the lounge chair you laid across possessivky, making no move to press her body into yours like you’d anticipated, though the her simple presence was enough to assert ownership. When she pulled the popsicle away from her lips, she tilted it over your body, watching calmly as red droplets of thawed syrup fell against the exposed skin of your chest and belly. You shivered, a displeased whine filling the air that had been silent aside from the sounds of rippling water for so long. “I said: Shut. Up.”

“Why don’t you make me then!” You argued, kicking out in an attempt to rile her up, only to be captured by her strong grip before the sole of your foot could make contact with her thigh. You yelped in surprise when she pulled you down, your head falling onto the lower section of the lounge chair, your knees bent as your uncaptured foot remained steadily on the edge of the chair.

Her lips were on yours in a bruising kiss before you could recover from the abrupt change in position, her body hovering above yours as to not rub against the syrup slowly trickling down your body and staining your bikini top. Her lips were cold against yours, and as she descended down your body, shivers erupted across your spine, not only from the sensation of her icy lips against your pulse point, but in anticipation. Instinctively your thighs fell open, welcoming her body between them, which she appreciated and made sure to acknowledge. You moaned pathetically when her core ground into yours, her mound appling an addictive pressure to your clit.

“Daddy-” You whimpered, your bratty exterior melting away faster than your popsicle as her fingers worked to unravel the knot holding your bikini in place at the nape of your neck, her tongue following the trail of vibrant red syrup down your exposed breast. You gasped when the flimsy material was discarded, her lips wasting no time before they captured your nipple, her teeth biting down on the pebbled bud deliciously hard. A whimpered whine alerted Wanda of your current predicament, yet all the redhead offered was an amused laugh before she dove head first into the water again.

“Do you know what you were doing to me, utenok? Do you know how badly I wanted to come over here and replace that fucking popsicle? You’re all bark and no bite. The second Daddy’s lips are on those needy little nipples all you can do is whine. It’s pathetic.” She sneered, her tone laced with calculated mockery as she kept a firm grip on the stick of your treat, apparently not yet done with it.

Your bottoms were the next thing to go, leaving your body dressed in only a pair of designer sunglasses and red syrup. The last thing you’d been expecting was for her to bite the rest of your ice pop off the stick, swallowing it whole and attacking your unsuspecting cunt, but you watched it happen as if the world was in slow motion, felt the sensations creep into your bones as if they were merely in a movie, but all at once it caught up to you, and the sheer shock of her cold mouth against your hot center had your back arching off the lounge chair, inadvertently pushing your center farther into her face.

She lapped at your cunt with fervent motions. Her teeth nipped, her lips suckled, and her tongue; there were no words to describe the sensations her tongue provoked as she plunged it deep within your core, massaging your sensitive inner walls and your g-spot before she allowed it to soothe your clit with harsh stroke and flicks. Your moans were breathy as you grasped at her hair, pulling harshly at red curls that tickled your thighs as they fell over her shoulders, not sodden with water like Wandas, although for a fleeting second you wondered what it would feel like to have the saturated woman undoing you so passionately.

“Daddy!” You cried out when you felt the approaching pleasure of your orgasm building, your hands pushing at her head, unsure of what you craved more of and what was entirely too much. You whimpered when you felt the stretch of her fingers coming home to your pussy, allowing you no adjustment period as two fingers plunged deep into your cunt, replacing her tongue that instead sought out your tingling bud of hypersensitive nerves. “Daddy! Daddy!” Her name was a sacred mantra on your lips, falling into the air as you writhed beneath her strong grip, attempting to drive her farther into your body.

“You gonna cum? Are you gonna cum for me, parshivets? My filthy fucking girl, getting fucked outside, where anyone can hear you? Is that what you want? You want Agatha to hear you? I bet her windows open. I bet she’s inside, sitting at her table trying to read, but she can’t because all she can hear are your desperate fucking moans as your Daddy fucks you.” Natasha’s words sent vibrations through your core, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, though she never permitted it. She never once gave you the answer you needed to fully enjoy it, and fiercely, you fought off your approaching orgasm because of that silent denial.

When her fingers curled into you, massaging that delicate spot that had you seeing stars, you almost begged for her to stop, to lighten up, but before you could, she gave you the one thing you needed. “Cum for me. Make a mess.” Natasha encouraged, rapturing your pulsating clit and spasming walls, drinking all of your pleasure before she pulled away, her mouth glistening, her fingers sparkling. You gasped for breath, chest rising and falling as you panted, the heat only heightening your breathlessness. “You don’t know how long I’ve been holding out for. Wanda thought I’d break the second you unwrapped that fucking popsicle.”

Sheepishly, you giggled softly, readjusting your sunglasses when Natasha stood up and moved aside, the sun falling over your body once more. “I didn’t realize until you came over here. I wasn’t even doing it on purpose.” You admitted, though Natasha had already known that.

“Oh, I know. You’re just too fucking tempting for your own good.” She giggled, kissing your lips sweetly, your arousal still coating her tongue as she licked at your lips teasingly. When she pulled away, she glanced down at the stick in her hands, a soft laugh falling off her lips. “Why did the book join the police force?”

“He wanted to be undercover!” Wanda bellowed from the pool, apparently honed in on your conversation despite how frequently she disappeared beneath the welcoming water.

“I’m all sticky now.” You pouted, realizing that the syrup, despite being licked off, had left a reside on your skin.

“I guess you’ll just have to join us then.” Before you could acknowledge her, Natasha had picked you up in her arms, your bathing suit still discarded on the grass in a messy heap of fabric, although the picket fence around the property prevented you from being seen, so it didn’t matter much if you out it back on or not. You shrieked when you realized what she was doing, but before you could plead for your freedom, she’d dropped you into the deep end.

“Nat!” You scolded when you resurfaced, your freshly washed hair now soiled by the salt water that dampened it.

“Oops?” Your girlfriend sang sweetly, jumping in right beside you, capturing you in her tight embrace with faux sympathy. “Go get Wanda.” She whispered in your ear, and that was enough to win her forgiveness, immediately seeking out your other girlfriend who pretended to despise the way you clung to her like a koala.

“I love you.” You mumbled against her lips, catching her by surprise though not an unpleasant one.

“I thought I got you strawberry. Sorry, baby.” She apologized softly, holding tightly to your naked ass, giving it a teasing spank beneath the water.

“That’s okay. Cherry’s Nat’s favorite.”

#wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat fluff #wandanat smut #dom!wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut #dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #minors dni ৎ୭ #series: you are in love #[ ౨ৎ ] — library

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emmyrosee · 2 months

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Oh nothing.. just thinking about how it’s been really hot lately so you, yuji, sukuna are usually laying around in nothing but shorts and a tank top bc it’s too hot to do anything. So u come up with this great idea to have a water fight in the back garden with the water hose too cool off and it’s just a bunch of messy nonsense and then u end the day at a 7/11 licking ice cream in sukunas car…🥹❤️

-Anon🥢

BRO I WILL COMBUST THIS IS SO CUTE

“I’ll… be right back.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

You’re quick to scurry away after Sukuna speaks, smirking and letting your feet carry you through the grass of his back yard. The plant is hot under your toes, but you pay it no mind as you make your way to the side of his parent’s house, grabbing the hose used to fill Yuuji’s pool.

It’s hot, far too hot for comfort. Yuuji’s pool is constantly filled with cooler water to keep him from sweating, a large hat plopped on his head while you periodically smother him with sunscreen as he plays with his floating toys. His older brother, on the other hand, tans lazily in the beams of sun, his body warm as he soaks up the rays of light. He’s always been better in the heat, but you can tell even he’s sluggish from the temperature.

You grin as you turn the dial to ‘shower’ and hide the tool behind your back, being sure to keep your steps quiet. You tuck your lips in your mouth to conceal any giggles, and you creep towards him with mischief coursing through your body.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

Immediately, Sukuna’s head turns to face you, and you quickly spray his warmed body with a spray of the hose, his face going from confusion to panic in a matter of seconds

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT THE FUCK-“ he screams, leaping up as he’s covered in frigid water, trying to run away from the spray. You laugh and keep your aim, watching him dash around the yard to create distance. Luckily- or, unlucky for him- the fence keeps him contained in his running, and you and yuuji laugh at his expense. “ILL KILL YOU! YOU HEAR ME!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you snicker. “Gotta catch me first!”

“Wanna pay!” Yuuji whines. “Pease!”

“Quick yuuji, come here!” You beckon, but his older brother is quick to scoop up the small boy, using him as a shield. Yuuji squeals and kicks his tiny legs, and you shake your head as he holds the small boy to his chest.

“You’d never spray the innocence of a child, would you?” He faux pouts, and yuuji merely giggles at you.

You shake your head, “no. Thankfully, you’ve got long legs.” You spray his long legs with the hose, and he growls and darts yuuji down to protect his now cold, wet legs. You laugh and are swift to move the dial to ‘mist’ and you spray the both of them. This, has sukuna actually hold Yuuji still, making sure to cool off his little brother under the spray. He squirms and laughs at the little mist of water coating his body, and when your eyes flick up to sukuna, your heart flutters as you see him smiling happily rather than mischievously.

“Cold!” Yuuji chirps.

“Want me to stop?” You offer.

“No!” He shakes his head. So, you don’t. You sway the spray from side to side, coating his left then his right, all the while he flails his limbs and laughter shakes his small body. “Wanna spray su’kna!”

“What.”

“Come here!” You encourage, flashing your boyfriend an empathic smile. He groans and places yuuji down in the mud, who quickly toddles over to you and grabs the bottom of the hose. To humor his brother, he pretends to run away, faux screams of panic as you turn the dial back to shower and pass the little boy the hose. He’s quick to aim at his brother, who grits his teeth at the cold.

But, the signals in your brain cross when the water is suddenly turned to you, splashing against your skin. You yelp and turn instinctively to run, but don’t make it very far before Sukuna catches on and catches you, holding you in his big arms as Yuuji sprays you both. You shriek and writhe in his grip, receiving the bulk of the spray with your body against his.

“Karma, you fucker,” he snickers while yuuji sprays both of your torsos. You playfully bat at his chest to try and get away, but his hand comes down to grip your chin steady and pull you into a kiss. You mewl and wind your arms around his neck, the cold water stopping as you continue the affection. He pulls away, smirking. “Figured that would stop your fucking whining and screaming.”

Yuuji tosses the hose to the side, “wanna kiss! Pease! Wanna smoochie kiss!” Sukuna laughs and picks his brother up, and while you press a kiss to his cheek, Sukuna, as always, playfully bites his rosy cheek, making his brother laugh at his brother’s silliness.

“If I get you both ice cream, will you let me tan in peace?” He asks. You both instantly nod, and he rolls his eyes, “same fuckin’ brain cell, I swear.”

The sun doesn’t take long to dry all of you off, and you’re quick to load into Sukuna’s truck, listening to the radio and watching as people in their yards handle the heat- some are in their garden, others tanning much like sukuna. Some kids run through sprinklers, while others bounce a basketball in their driveways. Yuuji babbles about anything and everything, what he’s learning in school and his silly friend Kugisaki, occasionally stopping to dance to the song playing.

The ride to 7/11 is short enough, and you load out of Sukuna’s truck, far too excited for a sweet treat. Sukuna has a favorite, a lemon slush that comes in a cup, while you and Yuuji select the same ice cream every time. Sukuna doesn’t bother waiting to pay to start eating, but he does slide the bill across the countertop, and once he does, you and Yuuji dive right in.

“Have a good day!” The cashier says, and you compliment him with a ‘thank you’ and load back into Sukuna’s truck, already sticky with humidity filling the air.

You eat your ice creams in peace, fending off the sweltering heat with the treat, and all you can think about is how much you love the other two occupants in the car.

And how sticky yuuji is going to be, once he’s done.

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struwberrii · 3 months

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haikyuu!! at an american highschool ⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ

pt.1 here pt.3 here

these are just some of my silly headcannons on how i think hq characters would act and what stereotypes they would be at an american highschool (as an american highschooler ☝️🤓)

characters: kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

kuroo

literally the biggest nerd but sm girls crush on him

the type of guy you gotta hit your friends with the “hear me out” before you say he’s cute

kind of annoying and cocky about his intelligence but ppl still like him

gets real creative about his insults towards ugly people

wears cringey dad graphic tees bc he has no style

crunchy coughs in class a lil too often….

has the oldest most beat up car on the planet like it’s a safety hazard driving that thing

always smells really weird like cigarettes or something despite not smoking a day in his life

debate club.

his note books have like water stains and the covers are like torn apart and look like they were used as a shield during a war

offers all his friends rides but is such a scary driver

makes fun of ppl “lovingly” but he’s lowkey a bully

jokingly owns a minecraft hoodie he bought from the kids section and it’s SO TIGHT it’s a crime to wear that out with his big self

kenma

wears the same clothes multiple days in a row, he don’t gaf he probably slept in ts too 😭

probably doesn’t really smell bad, just kind of…. moist? marinated?

his hair is probably really greasy sometimes

always brings some type of gaming console to school and plays during lunch and during any free time he has

sneaks his phone when he isn’t supposed to and has never been caught

for some reason he sits with cool people despite NEVER talking during class and never going out of his way to make friends (kuroo forces him to hang out with his friends)

raged at his game super loud in class one time and got so embarrassed he begged his counselor to take him out of that class

his grades are ok for someone who never studies or even really pays attention

some of his teachers have gone entire school years without ever remembering his name

has the best comebacks to everyone, he is not afraid to clock you

bokuto

drives the biggest jeep or like ford bronco ever and is actually a decent driver

his parking is TERRIBLE though and he never bothers to fix it

probably would play football (i’m sorry guys) and is constantly at risk of getting kicked off the team for his grades

akaashi helps him study to stay on the team

genuinely the biggest himbo, a bunch of the girls think he’s adorable but he never gets the hint

posts silly gym selfies on his story

book bag has like 1 notebook in it, maybe a pencil if he’s lucky

teachers secretly love him (but not enough to pass him)

i feel like he’d also try and join the swim team for some reason

i feel like he’d eat burger king for lunch :,(

girls confide in him with their drama even though he gives no helpful feedback or advice and just occasionally gasps and goes “no way”

has the most cracked iphone screen on the planet

akaashi

probably taking like half honors classes or AP (idk how it works i’m not at a regular high school sorry guys </3)

gets school iced coffee for breakfast

takes super good and detailed notes and helps bokuto despite being a lower grade

wears the funkiest outfits but girls still think he’s cute

no girls talk to him though because he’s so quiet

always has at least 1 airpod in

sells pics of his notes

sometimes goes off campus for lunch with bokuto, but refuses to eat burger king

other days he probably has salad for lunch

probably in like orchestra but never carries his instrument in the halls bc he thinks it’s embarrassing

bokuto is loud af cheering him on when they have concerts

also sneaks his phone during class but got caught one time and now he’s kind of too scared to use it

iwaizumi

wears those tight work out shirts to show off his muscles

probably drinks like protein drinks in class

has the biggest water bottle ever like bro drinks a gallon of water every period

has a SUPER old iphone or like an android he refuses to upgrade because it gets the job done

always posting about his gains

probably crashed his car and his bumper is like hanging off his car

in like a weight lifting or body building club and is probably the leader of said club

he and oikawa are a very popular duo

occasionally skips class if he ever just doesn’t feel like going

his notes are so vague and short yet he understands and remembers everything he wrote

his grades are insanely good too

literally only wears sports clothing

uses really good smelling cologne but since he’s so active there’s always a hint of must from all the sweat :,(

oikawa

man hoe

he has been in just about every girls dms at some point

his grades are like, okay? he’s not failing

does stuff for female validation, like ik if he had a cat he’d be posting it on his story constantly and like flexing his hand veins

drives a bmw

if he’s actually in a relationship, he’s super loyal tho

his teachers kinda hate him

still uses snapchat and his snap score is like 500k

has decent fashion but dresses mildly gay at the same time

people constantly make jokes abt him and iwa being gay and he gets so mad (maybe he’s projecting idk)

smells a little like vanilla

he and iwa get in n out for lunch and eat in his car

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arjwrites · 3 months

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Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!”

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down.

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt.

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up.

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself.

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down.

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.”

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.”

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it.

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.”

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?”

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest.

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake.

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house.

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer.

“A year.”

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.”

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.”

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark.

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed.

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here.

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor.

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn.

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-”

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny.

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other.

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement.

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?”

#dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester reader insert #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #supernatural one shot

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months

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Hi, I saw your post about jjk characters with a reader who has ed but could you do something similar but with an ed type like "I don't deserve to eat" because honestly I'm closer to that than worrying about my appearance. Well, you know when you were brought up that food, especially sweets, was a reward, and when you did something wrong, you were forbidden to eat. I would be very grateful. Thank you in advance

I Don’t Deserve It

Summary: How will JJK men react to you not eating because of your past?

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,412

Warnings: E.D, childhood trauma, PTSD, self-loathing, language, fluff, the boys being sweet

A/N: Hi there, Nonnie. Thanks for the request! I did my best with this one. I hope you enjoy it! 💚💚💚

Gojo Satoru:

It was hot, too damn hot to be outside. You whined, shielding your eyes from the sun above, and you limped behind your students and boyfriend, Gojo Satoru. You had gotten yourself into a little bit of a pickle on your mission. You quickly took out the grade two curse you were sent to exorcise. You, however, fell down the flight of stairs in the old Hospital and needed to call them for assistance.

Falling down the stairs was so utterly embarrassing. A sorcerer of yours should be more graceful and more tentative and careful. If your mother had been around, she would’ve reprimanded you, claiming you were nothing but a failure. That you needed to be severely reprimanded for your error. Your mother had been such a bitch. Even though you weren’t in contact with her anymore, her lessons still stuck with you to this day.

“Gojo! Gojo! Let’s get some ice cream!” Itadori and Kugisaki pointed frantically at the convenience store you were passing.

“Ah, yeah, ice cream sounds delicious right now! Yuuji, come on, let’s grab some! Megumi and Nobara, you're on drink detail!” your blindfolded boyfriend turned his head towards you, staring for a long moment before facing the shop. “You just stay here, babe.”

Embarrassment twisted your guts like they were knots on a boat. Of course, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age would be embarrassed by such a simple mistake you had made. If you made such a simple error as falling down the stairs on an easy mission, why would he want you to help get drinks and ice cream for the kids? Your bottom lip quivered as you shook your head, sitting on a bench outside the shop.

While your students and boyfriend headed into the shop, you could feel the heat plummeting down on you. On hot summer days like this, when you had made an error in your training or forgot to do something in the house, your mother would always make you sit outside. Other family members snacked on ice cream and drinks, while your mother always denied you the right to lovely cold iced tea or an ice cream cone.

“You failed me today; you do not deserve a treat. Sweets, like these, are earned, not given.”

Her words still rang in your ears as sweat slid down the back of your neck. It would be a long walk back to the school without anything to keep you cool. You needed to be more careful on your missions, especially now that it was summertime. It was bad enough you fell down a flight of stairs. You couldn’t imagine how you would be lectured for fainting in the heat.

“Mmm!” Yuuji hummed happily, licking his ice cream as a sliding door to the convenience store dinging the four returned. Megumi held a bag as Nobara chugged down some of her green tea. “This is great! Thanks Gojo!”

“Yeah, thanks.” Megumi nodded his head as he sipped on a bottle of water.

“It's too damn hot out here! We should go to the beach! Oooh, or a water park; maybe an agency will approach me!” You couldn’t help but smile as the trio of students talked amongst themselves and made plans to beat the summer heat. Your mindless star was cut short as an icy cold bag pressed firmly against your hot cheek.

You jumped, startled by the sudden cold against your face. Pulling back, you glanced up at your boyfriend, whose dimple deepened as he grinned. “Easy there, it’s just me, you’re loving boyfriend, with an ice cream for you.” Something in your chest swelled as you glanced at the ice cream he handed you, still wrapped in plastic.

“Huh?”

“Uh, ice cream? For my girlfriend, here.”

He waved the treat in front of your face, emphasizing his point. When you said nothing, he waved it again, tilting his head in confusion as to why you were so hesitant about taking it. There was a look in your eyes as you just stared at the sweet treat that had him tilting his head to the other side, pursing his lips together.

He sighed, flopping down on the seat next to you, his long legs stretched out. He was ripping the plastic and holding the unwrapped ice cream towards you. “Here you go, babe.” Your fingers inched closer toward the waffle cone before you promptly pulled them back.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you get me this?”

Gojo pulled his blindfold up; eyebrows scrunched together as his mouth was agape in confusion. “Because it's a bajillion degree outside? Because I bought the students ice cream and one. Why wouldn’t I get my girlfriend one too?” Gojo seemed insulted that you would ask such a naïve question.

“N-No, I get that, but I didn’t do anything to deserve it. You had to rescue me today. And now you’re giving me a prize for nothing?”

“Who in their right mind told you that?!”

With flushed cheeks, you glance down at the ground. “Uhm, well—my mother always told me that sweets were a reward. I never used to get them as a kid. Hell, even meals sometimes were considered a reward after training.” A sudden spike of nausea rose in your throat at the unpleasant memories of your childhood.

Gojo remained silent momentarily, taking your words as meaningful instructions for an important project. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed you by your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it so your eyes met his. His usual charismatic, carefree charm was void, as were his gorgeous eyes. Instead, you were met with nothing but worry. Seeing him look at you like that caught you off guard as he leaned in, gently pressing a kiss against your lips.

Your eyes went wide, darting towards the trio who didn’t pay you any mind. The kiss wasn’t heated or full of desire like it usually was. It was nothing but genuine, passionate love. You kissed him back, slowly closing your eyes as your arms wrapped around his neck. Gojo pulled back, grabbing your chin, tapping the ice cream against your bottom lip, grinning wide.

“Your mother was a mythic bitch. God, I would love to beat her ass for torturing you as a child.” he sighed before turning to watch you take the ice cream, unwrapping it. “You don't have to do anything to deserve a treat. If you want one, have one, especially after a rough mission. I always get myself a treat after a mission! It's like a little reward.” His large hand stroked your hair as you happily licked the ice cream. “We gotta work on fixing that mentality.”

Your shoulders feel light as the ice cream begins to cool you down. “Right, I think this,” you motion towards the ice cream in your hand, “is a great start.” Gojo barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh baby, this is just convenience store ice cream. Wait until I take you to my absolute favorite shop downtown!”

On the way back to school, the five of you laughed as you ate your ice cream. Gojo sucked on his

while he carried you on his back. You were lucky to have a man who would tell you when you were inevitably wrong, and you were worse so much more than you thought.

Geto Suguru:

You stood in the kitchen, watching the girls running around playing, which was a good thing seeing that you had screwed up and forgotten to pick them up after school. The morning had been hectic, from filling out paperwork to doing housework, and it has just managed to slip away from you.

You were cutting vegetables for dinner when the school called. At first, you were confused, but the second you glanced at the clock, your stomach fell into your ass. You ran all the way to the school, finding the girls eagerly waving at you from the steps where their teacher glowered down at you.

“Sorry! I lost track of time, sweet peas!”

“That’s okay!” Nanako said as she held onto her sister’s hand. “We figured you were held up and knew either you or Geto would show up!”

“Mhmm!” Mimiko agreed as they tread down the steps together.

You ruffled their hands as they passed you before turning to their teacher. “I’m sorry time got the better of me. Thank you for waiting with them.” typically, people would say it wasn’t a problem, but this teacher shot daggers out at you as she stepped down to face you head-on.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Her words weighed you down as you stared at her in confusion and shock. “You call yourself a mother or a guardian? Your generation is so lazy and self-entitled, caring about no one but yourselves.”

“Excuse me; you're wro—”

“Lazy, ungrateful people like you don’t deserve the happiness they were blessed with.” She shoved past you, heading down the sidewalk. “You don’t deserve it.”

The elderly teacher was an insane coldhearted bitch. Shit happens, like losing track of time. She could fuck off all you cared. Both you and Subaru worked hard to make the girls feel loved. She didn’t know what she was talking about. So you brushed off her cruel words to the side, holding both girls’ hands as you walked home together.

Ignoring the teacher was easy, but her words triggered unpleasant memories for you. It was her and the guilt in your stomach for losing track of time that triggered flashbacks to play in your mind. Your father told you you did nothing and deserve your mother because you didn’t prepare it when you had been training all day. You never got to enjoy a warm meal with your family on days like that.

Moments and bad habits like that tended to stick around like a scar. Even when you were an adult, you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, but the interaction with the teacher and memories from your childhood had you sinking in on yourself—the little girl who watched her family eat without her.

The door opened, and Suguru grinned as the girls ran at him, throwing their arms around his legs and giggling as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes were warm down the top of their heads. You smiled at him before looking away, your stomach growling.

“Welcome home, Geto!”

“Thanks, girls.” he placed a big watermelon on the kitchen counter, drawing that girl's attention along with your own. “Look what Yaga gave me. It’s nice and cold. Perfect for dessert tonight.”

Your mouth watered as Nanamo and Mimiko chanted excitedly, watching Suguru wash his hands before cutting into the melon with a knife. Your fingers slowly inched forward, but you pulled away, focusing on your phone instead. If your father were here, he would remind you that you didn’t deserve to eat with your family. Because you had forgotten to pick up the girls today

“You girls ate all of your dinner, right?” Your boyfriend asked as he grabbed two slices of the sweet red melon, holding them out in front of the girls.

“Yes, Geto!”

“We ate everything!”

“Good, here you go.” They took the slices eagerly, munching on the bright red fruit. While they happily ate, Geto turned his attention toward you. He pushed some of his dark bangs out of his vision. “And you, Princess? Did you eat all of your dinner?”

“No.”

Your boyfriend blinked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Why not?” His voice lowered as he grabbed a slice of the melon.

“I don’t deserve to eat.” Those five words wait a ton, causing your boyfriend’s face to contort with concern.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I screwed up and forgot to pick up the girls today. Their teacher made sure to let me know. I didn’t deserve to be as blessed as I am.”

Suguru scoffed, narrowing his gaze as he grabbed your face in one hand, squeezing it so your lips were puckered. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You work your ass off every day to take care of our blessings. There’s no reason why you don’t deserve to eat.”

“My father would disagree with you on that.”

“Well,” your boyfriend squeezes your cheeks gently. “If I ever meet your father, I’m going to feed him to my curses because he doesn’t deserve to breathe for making you feel like that.”

“Sugu—mm!”

The tip of the watermelon slice is promptly shoved into your mouth. “I don’t want to hear you argue because, for once, you’re wrong.” You felt like all the worry on your shoulders and the grip your father had on you began to fade away. “Now be a good girl and chew.”

You take a bite, the sweet juices flooding your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing before taking another bite. Seeing the smile on your face, your boyfriend grinned back as he gently continued to hold the watermelon for you.

“Hey, Ma didn't eat her dinner!” Nanako chimed in as both she and Mimiko happily continued to eat their slices

“Oh, I know we’re just doing things out of order tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun. Can we do that tomorrow night?!” The girls ask in unison before you and Suguru, smiling before saying yes. Sometimes, life was messy, but you just had to go with the flow and take one moment at a time, even if that meant doing things out of order.

Nanami Kento:

“My love,” you glanced up from your book as Nanami stepped inside the apartment, removing his glasses. “I’m home.”

Your book is thrown across the couch as you leap your feet, rushing to throw your arms around your husband. “Welcome home, Kento!” His hand gently grabs the back of your head as you kiss him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He presses another longing, soft kiss against your lips. “I’m starving. I can’t wait to unwind with a nice warm meal with you.”

You pull away, and Nanami watches your face pale. You yank yourself away from his arms, your hand covering up to cover your mouth as you mentally start cursing yourself out. Being a housewife meant you got to take care of the house, shop for groceries, and prepare dinner for your husband without worrying about working as an assistant supervisor. Today, you cleaned the house, shopped for groceries, and did laundry but failed to do the most important thing.

Make dinner for your beloved husband, who worked all day.

“Oh my God, fuck me!” You rushed to the kitchen, throwing the fridge open and trying to figure out what you could make. “I’m so sorry, Ken.”

“Love, it’s al—”

“No, no, I’m so sorry. I’ll make something for you, or I could pick something up.”

“Honey—”

“I’m sorry.” In this state, you weren’t sure if you could cook anything with your shaking hands. “I’ll order you something. Please go take a bath and relax; I got this!”

Your husband frowned but didn’t argue with you. He just stared for a long moment before heading into your room to change, leaving you a shaking mess as you ordered him a sandwich and soup from the bakery down the street, not adding anything for yourself. With the food ordered, you paced the kitchen, biting down on your thumbnail with a sigh; terrible memories from your childhood and your weeping mother flashed.

When you were little, your mother was a stay-at-home mom while your father was on missions. Both your parents loved each other and rarely fought, but your father’s mother was a terrible human being. Whenever your mother was overwhelmed and wasn’t able to cook dinner, your grandmother would yell and scream at her, telling her she was a terrible wife and homemaker. On days like that, your mother would weakly smile before preparing something quick for everyone to enjoy.

Your mother would never join in, even when the hot meal was prepared or purchased. Your grandmother chastised her for even considering joining them for a meal she had forgotten to make. Your mother would stay in the kitchen until everyone else had eaten before she might consider eating for herself. Which rarely happened in fear of how your grandmother would react.

You never thought you would find yourself in her shoes one day. On top of that, you had done hardly anything compared to the miracles your mother made. She raised children, kept up with the house, cleaned, and ensured everything was in order. You and Nanami were just two people to care for in a small, comfortable home. Compared to your mother, who took care of your entire clan, you were pathetic.

If your grandmother were still around, she would lecture you like she had your mother countless times before.

You had failed as a housewife, and that fact had your stomach churning with nausea as you carried the plate of delivered food to Nanami, who had just walked out of the bedroom, freshly showered and changed. You handed him the plate, keeping your eyes glued to the floor with a frown. Your gaze was suddenly lifted as Nanami took the plate with one hand and grabbed your chin with the other, forcing you to look at his face.

“I’m sorry, Kento.”

“Please don’t apologize for something so minuscule; it’s fine.”

“You worked all day while I stayed at home. It should’ve been done.”

You sat at the table, staring at the placement before you, and your husband began eating in silence, his eyes glancing towards the table, finding nothing on a plate for you. A blonde brow cocked as he swallowed the bite in his mouth.

“Love, where’s your food?” You frown, dropping your head lower. “Darling?”

“I don’t deserve to eat with you. I’ll eat tomorrow morning.”

You listen as the chair across from you slides against the wooden floor. There are a few footsteps before the chair beside you pulls out, and Nanami’s body wash invades your senses. Your eyes clamp shut, but you hear rustling instead of a stern lecture. Opening one eye, you find half his sandwich on the placemat before you.

“Kento, what are you—!”

“I want to share my food because despite your thinking you did nothing today, just because you were at home is not the case.” He takes another bite, the bread crunching deliciously, making your stomach growl loud. “You cleaned the house and reorganized our bathroom.” He took another bite. “Then you dusted the office, shopped for groceries, and on top of all of that, you did our laundry.”

Your husband was one of the most considerate men in the entire world. He took notice of the little things you did and always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you. So, not being angry that there was no dinner waiting for him at home had your heart skipping a beat.

“Kent—”

“Nuh-uh, unless the next words out of your mouth revolve around the sandwich, and it's good to save it; I don’t want an apology. I don’t want to hear how you didn’t do a good job. Because that’s not right, take such wonderful care of our home. I love you more than anything in this world.”

You pick the other half of the sandwich up, smiling at him. “Thank you, Kento.” You take a bite, the bread crunching as you do. You hum happily at the delightful taste that swarms your taste buds. “Mhmm!” Kento grins, leaning over and pressing the softest kiss against your temple.

“I love you; thank you for taking such good care of the house.”

“I love you too, Kento; thank you for all your hard work!” Your smile is as bright as the sun as you hold up half of the sandwich. “And thanks for sharing!”

Nanami gently taps the half of his sandwich against yours as if clinking glasses together. “You’re welcome, my love.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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zorosdimples · 5 months

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mdni. cw: hybrids, oral fixations, spit. my (not so) long-awaited return to the tiger hybrid yuuji-verse.

Sunday afternoons are usually spent like this: lazing on the couch with your tiger hybrid, his broad frame curled around yours as he shields you from the stress of your impending work week. Your face is buried in his strong chest and his chin rests atop your head.

Yuuji chuffs in contentment when you reach up to scratch his rosy ears; the vocalization puffs against your hair as his soft tail gently bats your hip. When you try to withdraw your hand, he whines, chasing you with his nose. As you let him nuzzle into your touch, he begins lapping at your skin.

You chuckle; you’ve grown fond of his clinginess. “Hm?”

His affection dances from the center of your palm to the tip of your pointer finger, and he wraps his tongue around the digit before nipping the pad. He pulls away from your comforting scent and warmth—barely, as his breath ghosts your flesh—and his striped ears twitch.

“You know how you told me to come to you when I need anything?” Yuuji asks.

You hum. “Of course.”

“Well,” he gulps, cheeks blooming a ruddy color that matches his hair, “could you, um, play with my mouth?”

Unsure of where he’s headed with his request, you quirk an eyebrow.

“The vet said I had to stop chewing so much ice—remember?”

“Yeah. It’s bad for your teeth if you do it too often.”

He nods. “And I've chewed through all of my toys.”

“No new toys until next month, Yuu. They’re too expensive to replace on a weekly basis. Unfortunately, I’m not made of money.”

The hybrid’s ears flatten against his head. “I know. But my mouth feels so empty.” He shifts a little, now fidgeting with the fuzzy tip of his tail. “I—um, just need something to occupy it. My gums ache, and my jaw hurts because I keep clenching. I try to work everything out on my own, but I… I thought maybe you could help.”

Wide, sweet, earnest, Yuuji’s gaze is rich caramel. You feel a little flustered by his request—you aren’t exactly sure why—but you couldn’t possibly say no to him. You offer Yuuji a reassuring smile. “There’s no need for you to be embarrassed; I’m always happy to help. Now: open wide for me.”

Your willingness draws a pleased chuff from him, and he complies, baring his maw. Accentuated by glinting incisors, rows of honed teeth would be a frightening sight for an onlooker. But the hybrid would rather wither away than hurt a fly (unless the fly was trying to harm you). You begin by running a finger along his slick gums, gingerly massaging the pink tissue.

Garbled whines flutter past Yuuji’s drooling tongue; his eyes water, irises hazy with relief. By the time you reach his molars, you have to hold his tongue down with your middle and ring fingers, using your index to rub around his teeth. Spit pools at the bottom of his mouth and dribbles down his chin. A pleased sigh leaves his stretched lips, and his hips jerk forward, something firm brushing against your belly.

Blood rushes to your face. You swallow dryly, acutely aware of your intimate position. “Are you hard, Yuuji?”

The hybrid doesn’t try to deny it. “Thowy,” he pants with your fingers heavy on his tongue. Dew collects at his temples and his neck is blush. But instead of putting space between your bodies, he squirms closer—until his bulge presses against you, his syrupy gaze slowing your mind and seeping into your limbs.

Arousal knots itself deep in your core as you stare at your companion—hot, needy, eager. Against your better judgment, you grind against him. Losing focus, he roughly grabs your hips, mouth closing around your digits to lave and suck. He rolls onto his back and hoists you on top of him, angling you so that his throbbing length rubs you right where you need.

“Fuck,” you hiss, unable to do anything but roll your hips and chase pleasure. You extract your fingers from Yuuji’s mouth, cradling his burning face before melting into him, a heap of spit and teeth and tongue.

“I’m s-sorry,” he groans against your lips as he kneads your ass, tail grazing your ankle. “Gonna make it up to you—promise.”

#this was quickly written and is h word so. enjoy!#vi and nonnie i combined ur requests into 1 !!!!#yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #tw hybrids #cw hybrids #yuuji <3 #༄ kae writes

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mokulule · 4 months

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Eternity, I pledge

Dead on MAYn Day 3 Prompt: King Danny & Knight Jason Warnings: angsty and bittersweet.

Jason kneeled in front of his King. Around them the court of ghosts were quiet, but they could have been shouting for all that Jason noticed them; he only had eyes for one person.

Danny.

His King, his savior, his… friend. He had never seen him cold like this. For all that he had a core of ice, he usually had such warmth to him, a smile never far from his lips.

He was laughter and gentle teasing as he eased Jason into his new powers - softening Jason’s frustration with tales of his own early struggles with his powers. He was a grounding hand to hold as Jason had to come to terms with the fact he hadn’t come all the way back. He was a tired smile after a long patrol, dark circles under human eyes, blunt nails rubbing into his scalp, something they hadn’t talked about building warm and pleasant in the space between them.

But now he was cold, frigid and deadly like icy waters. He was furious.

It wasn’t like Jason had expected him to be happy, Jason wasn’t an idiot. He’d known Danny would be unhappy, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Make your pledge then,” Danny finally spoke, though it was more like a cold snap. Frost nipped at Jason’s very human nose. There was nothing to do but go ahead, Jason could no more take back his actions than Danny could refuse them. He met Danny’s glowing blue eyes straight on and forced himself to speak loudly and firmly.

“I, Jason Todd, pledge myself to you, Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite realms, to uphold your word as law, to serve as both your sword and shield-“ Jason paused to take a breath and then plunged in, “to be your Knight until the End.”

His words rang out with finality. The ancient pledge had not been heard in millennia, not since Halloween pledged himself to Dark and was dubbed Fright Knight. He suppressed a gasp as energy surged in his core. He felt open, laid bare.

Finally Danny pulled the ice sword at his side, it howled like a storm as it escaped its scabbard. Jason felt chilled, for one terrifying moment certain that Danny would reject his pledge and plunge the blade into his chest. He had no idea where that came from. He trusted Danny with his life, but he had never seen him so angry.

Then, the blade rested lightly on one shoulder, then the next.

“Rise, my Red Knight.”

Jason rose stiffly. This would probably have been easier in ghost form, if nothing else he’d have been more resistant to the cold, but Jason hadn’t yet reached a point where he was comfortable in that form. Finally he’d wrangled his cold muscles into order and was standing.

Danny thrust the sword hilt into Jason’s right hand and blessedly held on as the power surged into him from the sword, a tsunami of power racing into his core. His knees threatened to buckle, but Danny squeezed harder and Jason forced his legs straight. The power, Danny’s power, felt exhilarating. There was pain too as his still healing core was forced to grow to accept it, but most of all it felt like flying, like stars swirling above, and that delighted swoop in his stomach.

Finally, after it felt like his core had grown three sizes and he would simply burst if he received any more power it stopped. Dazed Jason looked from his hand, to Danny’s hand still holding on. Then his gaze moved to Danny’s face and it was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.

“I hope you’re happy,” Danny spat lowly only for their ears, then let go, leaving the ice blade in Jason’s hand; he may as well have left it stabbed through his heart.

The silence turned into a cheer around them that roared like useless noise in Jason’s ears. None of that mattered, only Danny, who turned his back on Jason and left.

Inside he screamed, howled like the winds he knew his new blade - Stormbringer, it whispered to him - would create, if only he let it. Jason sheathed the sword, ending the temptation. He wanted to go after Danny, but he had been surrounded by well-wishing ghosts, only some he recognized. He wanted to go after Danny, but he had never seen him so angry, maybe it was better to let leave him alone for now. He let the ghosts move him to the party, but he wasn’t quite there.

A year ago was the first time Jason noticed something more than usual was wrong with him. He tired easily. Sleeping didn’t replenish his strength. The rage that had been a constant companion was down to embers - something he’d thought was the result of bettering the relationship with his family, but apparently rage had been the fire that had kept him going and now- then- he’d been dying.

It had been a slow steady decline. He tired more easily. His aches and bruises healed slower, and then it seemed not at all. It had taken two months from Jason realizing until he’d told Alfred as the first one, but by then they’d all suspected something was up anyways.

Nearly six months ago Jason had been bedridden, moved to the mansion for what they feared were his last days.

That is when Danny - Phantom then - had come, like a light in the encroaching darkness. Jason could still vividly feel his ghostly fingers on his cheeks, his forehead resting against his as he seemed to breathe life back into him - or rather as he would later learn afterlife, ghost energy, ectoplasm.

Jason had been properly awake and free of pain for the first time in months.

Danny’s theory was that Jason had been a slowly forming halfa, when the League had gotten their hands on him. Jason would have probably eventually come back to awareness if just left on his own, though it may have taken years. Of course, nobody had known that, and Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Waters had forcibly brought his brain back online.

Lazarus Water, however, was antithesis to ectoplasm. It healed only the living. It had only worked because his body had been enough alive due to the strangeness that governed halfa formations, but it had stunted his core formation - poisoned it. And so when the life force given to him by Lazarus had burned out, there had been nothing to stop Jason’s slow decay, his Ending - until Danny, who had been passing through Gotham had sensed him.

There had been a lot of chaos. His family had thought for a terrible moment that Phantom clad in his cloak seemingly weaved of the night sky itself had been Death themself come to claim him. And in a way he was, though it would only be later they learned he was the Ghost King.

He had introduced himself, only after saving Jason, as Phantom, merely a passing spirit. Bat paranoia momentarily shelved due to Jason’s recovery, had meant fewer questions than would have normally been asked. Yes, Jason would recover now. No, he did not need anything in return.

And then he’d gone.

A week later Jason was well enough to go home to his own apartment, cleaned by Alfred for his return, because it had been in a sorry state when he left. Finally alone, that was when Phantom had appeared again. That was when Phantom introduced himself as Danny, to just Jason, because they were the same. That was when Danny explained his theory, because he had spent the week doing research.

He could have just left, but Jason would be developing powers now. Danny wanted to be sure Jason had the support he’d never had. So, he wanted to tell him he was sticking around Gotham in case he needed him.

And boy, had Jason needed him when he got stuck having fallen halfway through the floor a week later. Luckily Jason had had his phone in hand when it had happened and Danny was only a call away.

It would be another month until Jason discovered that by sticking around Gotham it meant human Danny was squatting in a damp, moldy, half collapsed building slated for demolition and Jason had dragged him back to his own apartment - no matter Danny’s protests that the vibes were right for a ghost and that he couldn’t get sick anyways.

But despite his protests Danny hadn’t left.

It was easier like that, Danny was close when he had mishaps and besides he was good company, especially because he’d been benched due to rapidly developing powers and didn’t have the outlet of patrols.

It was easier, despite how it meant Danny had to be reintroduced to the rest of the family. Something that Jason thought went rather well, but Danny lamented as an unmitigated disaster.

Two months ago, Danny had started to look worried.

One month ago Danny had explained he would have to leave soon. Jason would be okay, he had his basic powers under control. He might still develop more, but since he had a feel for his core now, he’d likely master them easily enough.

Danny would visit of course. He hoped Jason would like him to visit.

Jason had prodded and prodded until Danny admitted to being the Ghost King. That his Knight was sick due to having broken his oath to the previous king. He had released him from the oath, but the only reason he was still existing at all was due to him being the spirit of Halloween.

He was without a Knight and that was not a situation that could continue. For the stability of the Infinite Realms and himself he had to have a Knight. He had to leave to oversee the challenges the candidates had to overcome.

Jason had asked to come along, to see the Infinite Realms he also belonged to. Danny had been unable to argue that point. He had even despite his worry, given Jason a small excited smile telling him he looked forward to showing him.

Jason had felt a stab of guilt, because his real reason was to enter the challenges.

Jason had known Danny would be angry, but he had never imagined he’d be that angry. The words “I hope you’re happy” spat at him like acid, echoed in his mind again and again.

A whispy hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. He’d mostly been left alone by the partying ghosts at this point. He around turned to see the translucent shadowy form of Halloween.

It was hard to believe this had once been the Fright Knight depicted in paintings and tapestries in the castle. He was barely solid for short bursts that pulled his shadows together only to drift apart again slowly. Only his green eyes shone with any sort of vitality.

“You did well,” his voice was weak like a call from a distance instead of right next to his ear.

Jason didn’t know whether to laugh or cry right then, his throat made some sort of half choked noise without his permission. “Danny doesn’t think so.”

“You were the strongest candidate, especially suited to His Majesty… because you are both Halfa…”

Jason could practically see the way Halloween’s energy waned as he struggled to speak. He tried to tell him he didn’t have to say anymore, but the former Knight forged on.

“He will see….

In time…”

Jason grabbed for him reflexively as he faded from view. For just a moment, Jason thought he’d Ended, just like Jason had nearly Ended half a year ago. His breath stuck panicked in his throat, until he realized he could still feel Halloween’s presence.

Slowly and carefully he let out his burning breath. Halloween had merely exhausted himself.

The following week was torture. Danny didn’t lose his cold fury for even a moment, as Jason followed him on his official duties: meetings and introductions of Jason as Red Knight to the leaders of the Realms, as well as the more mundane territory disputes and requests spanning from help with the more eldritch elements of the Realms to approval of taking a date to the living realms Danny apparently dealt with, now and again, that had been put off when Danny had been in the living realm.

He was quite literally giving Jason the cold shoulder. The Realms were noticeably colder than they had been when they had arrived together. The Far Frozen seemed to be the only place that wasn’t affected, but then that had already been frigid. The ghosts they met with were unnerved by Danny’s mood, even though he was fair as ever. From what Ember had told him with an amused smirk, they usually argued more with Danny, so at least something good had come out of Danny’s anger with him.

Every day of this Jason’s frustration grew. How were they supposed to resolve things when Danny would not even look at him! It was like the Danny he knew had been locked behind a glacier and every day it became more and more tempting to try and punch his way through the barrier.

It came to a head in a hallway. They had spent a very long day in a meeting with a delegation from some far off kingdom that had spent something like five years to even get here to greet the new Ghost King. Jason was tired from standing all day, and Danny stopping in the hallway, barely turning his head to say “you may leave”, was the last drop.

“What is the matter with you!” Jason snapped.

“Me?” Danny asked dangerously, the air itself rippled around him, but Jason had had enough, he was prepared to dig his grave as deep as it needed to go.

“Yes you, what the Hell crawled up your ass?”

Danny turned in the air and for the first time his anger was hot. He poked Jason in his chest forcing him to take a step back. If Jason had been in ghost form, maybe he could have resisted.

“I take you here on your request to see the Realms, and you lied to me. You enter the challenges. You, who couldn’t even free yourself from the floor a few months ago, who didn’t even know you were a ghost! You, who are still not comfortable enough to stay in your ghost form for any length of time! You could have Ended.”

Jason’s momentary guilt was burned up by the attacks on his faillings.

“But I didn’t. I won. Even in my weak human form.”

Danny scoffed. “What do you want Jason? A gold star for binding yourself to me for eternity? You didn’t even talk to me!”

“You wouldn’t have let me!”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’ve had a decade to come to terms with eternity, you’ve had not even six months!”

“Six months, a decade, I don’t see how it matters. You needed a Knight!”

“It didn’t have to be you!”

“You would have settled for one of those two bit ghosts?”

“They would have been serviceable!”

Fury and jealousy rose so fast and ugly in his chest Jason expected to see green - of course no green came, because Danny had rid him of every last speck of Lazarus influence when he’d healed him. Danny, who had shown him a whole new world, who’d made him feel like- His thoughts staggered, unwilling to go there. Danny was telling him he’d rather have some low rate poltergeists, that was the important part.

“You would pick them over me!”

“Kneel, Jason!” Danny’s voice thundered and Jason’s knees promptly hit the floor sending a jolt of pain all the way up his spine. Disoriented, it took him a moment to understand, a moment for the horror to settle in.

His body had moved on its own. “Do you get it now, what it means that my word is law?” Danny snarled and held the anger for all of three more seconds. Then, his face crumbled and he fell to his own knees in front of Jason. His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he looked up at Jason. Jason was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

“Do you understand now?” Danny pleaded, “Do you understand what you’ve pledged to me for eternity?”

“Danny…” Finally, Jason understood why Danny was so upset.

“I love you Jason,” Danny confessed hoarsely, voice barely more than a whisper, “I wanted you by my side, not three steps behind.”

Jason followed the tears down Danny’s cheek until they made small splashes as they landed on his clenched fists.

“Danny,” Jason repeated and drew him into his arms. Danny shuddered through a sob and desperately held on to him in return.

“Why did it have to be you?”

Jason didn’t have any arguments anymore, he was left only with the simple truth. He couldn’t abide anyone else as Danny’s Knight-

“Because I love you.”

Danny only cried harder at that. The entire castle shook and rolled with his grief. Jason couldn’t do anything but hold him. Nothing he could say could change the past.

Nothing could change the fact that he would do it again.

He buried his face in Danny’s soft hair to hide his own tears. It was the truth. No one else was good enough. Maybe if there had been more time, but there hadn’t. Danny had already spent a decade with a not-properly pledged Knight, who was weakened from betraying the old King. They had already pushed the choosing as far as they could waiting for Danny to grow into his own role. Halloween had explained this to Jason. “Why-” Jason stopped for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts into something sensible, “why does this have to stop us?” Danny drew back, looking a Jason in disbelief with his red-rimmed eyes.

“I hold all the power, that’s a terrible basis for a relationship!”

Jason reached out, cupping Danny’s cheek. He closed his eyes and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

“You wouldn’t misuse that power - I trust you.” Jason didn’t trust easily, but Danny had had the power all throughout the time they’d known each other. Even if it hadn’t been as clear. Even if it hadn’t been as literal as now, he’d always been careful of making sure Jason had a choice, he’d been homeless in Gotham to stick around just in case Jason wanted his help. Jason trusted him.

“I don’t trust me,” Danny said quietly and his usually glowing green eyes were matte and lifeless as he reopened them to look at Jason. “Eternity is a very long time, Jason. People change.”

Jason growled. He hated seeing Danny so listless, so defeated. As if him becoming a tyrant was a certain path. He took Danny’s face into both his hands and pressed his forehead to his in a mirror of what Danny had done so many months ago. If only Jason could inject a bit of life back to him, but that wasn’t Danny problem. Danny problem was that Jason was bound to obey him through his pledge. His pledge!

“Swear to me-“ What? He couldn’t swear not to ever give Jason an order, he was his Knight he would serve his King, he gained power from serving him. There had to be something else. Something that would let Jason help and not just follow blindly…

“Swear never to silence me, swear you will at least listen and consider and-“ Jason smiled “I will tell you when you are being an idiot.”

Danny sputtered drawing back Jason’s hands to hold them instead, but there was light back in him as he looked at Jason bemused.

“This doesn’t solve the core problem.”

“No. But I like to think it helps.”

Danny huffed. Then looking at Jason intently for any indication of discomfort he lifted Jason’s right knuckles to his lips. A delighted shudder ran up Jason’s arm leaving his hairs standing on end.

“I think it’s supposed to be the other way around,” Jason commented mouth dry as sand.

Danny ignored his inane comment and just kept holding Jason’s eyes as he spoke, “I swear to never silence you.” Then he lifted up the left hand and kissed those knuckles too. “I swear I will at least listen to and consider your words.”

The promise settled like a weighted blanked around them. It was nothing like the pledge in the throne room, which was power and chains, even if Jason hadn’t recognized the chains at the time, this was a comfort.

They had a long way to go still, but at least Danny was the Danny he knew now instead of the furious king. They had time, eternity in fact to work out things.

Jason tried to think of that as a good thing.

I feel I must apologize for the ending, it's just the mood this fic wanted. But I hope you enjoyed it anyways!

If it helps I do imagine them happy eventually, though it takes Danny a very very long time to ever give words to things he wants in the context of the two of them.

#deadonmayn24 #dom24d3 #king Danny knight Jason #dp x dc #dead on main

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eilidh-eternal · 9 months

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Good morning 🥰 Wolf-shifter!Price is a bad, bad man 🤭 | Part 1 | Masterlist |

18+ MDNI | This is a DARK FIC | cw: blood, drowning, predator and prey dynamics

Little fawn… You shouldn’t be out on that ice.

John lingers at the edge of the forest, halts his routine surveillance at the fringes of his territory, and watches as you fall, can hear the ice shudder and give way, can smell the panic and fear as you sink beneath the frozen surface.

Well. A frozen meal is better than no meal at all.

He peels back layers of winter garb as he approaches the waters edge, shucking them into the snow before he makes the plunge himself.

You must have tried to fight it, the dead weight of your heavy clothing. Still so close to the surface when he reaches you. With kicking feet he takes you under the arms and hauls you back up, pushes you up onto the ice before hauling himself out behind you, and carries you off the treacherous lake. Sharp metal prods at his thigh with each step that jostles your skate-clad feet, and a growl of contempt rumbles in his chest when he feels the blade dig into his skin, thin rivulets of warm blood mixing with the water that drips from his body. They’re the first thing he removes from you, followed by the useless coat full of lake water and the monstrosity of a sweater beneath it.

Your left side blooms a tantalizing red, droplets staining the snow beneath you like Rorschach ink bleeds onto paper, and the sweet, metallic scent floods his senses. Calls to baser instincts. But then you begin to cough and hack, water gurgling between your darkened lips, and he can hear the faint thump of the cordiform muscle in your chest beating back to life. Pulsing with more of that sweet essence.

Not so frozen after all. Still time for a little fun.

He hopes you wake soon, that he won’t have to slink along in the shadows for hours before your scent paints the forest and leads him to you. Hopes that when you wake the panic and fear will smell just as decadent mingled with the adrenaline. Oh, how he’d like to linger here and watch that panic bloom on your pretty little face. Watch the confusion turn to shock, watch the whites of your eyes swallow the irises as you realize who—what—looms over you.

But he can’t. You won’t last out in this cold in your sopping clothes, and he won’t last in this form without his. So he leaves you with his coat draped over your body, the rest of his clothes nearby in the snow, and prowls into the sanctuary of pine and aspens that shield his fur from the wind blasted clearing you lie in.

He prowls, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long. And you’re so, so smart, little fawn. So smart to make use of the clothing he’s left for you. So very clever to follow his footprints in the snow. To wrap your arms around your middle and keep your hands balled inside the oversized sleeves of his coat.

And your scent… Oh, he had not been expecting that. The way your sweetness has tangled itself with his own scent. The way the lingering musk from his clothes wraps around your delicate, honeyed sillage. Warm and syrupy, like the blood that splatters in the snow and paints a path through the trees.

So focused are you on pushing forward, on moving and staying warm, that you do not notice the shadow at your back when you trudge into their refuge, sighing long and heavy at the absence of the punishing wind nipping at your exposed skin. You huff and puff as you fight the deep drifts, already at a disadvantage and clumsy in shoes far too big for you, his footsteps clearing the way not making much if a difference in your exhausted, wounded state.. You can hardly walk, let alone run, and so he bides his time. Watches from a distance, from the cover of pine boughs heavy and drooping with snow, from the shadows cast by the rapidly setting sun.

The snow may glitter and glisten, might make pretty patterns on frosted leaves and look pillowy soft where it gathers in drifts at the bases of tree trunks, but it is deceptive and cruel under the light of the moon. And the dark brings forth a host of malevolent, savage creatures. Things like him.

He’s doing you a kindness, really, watching over you as you tromp through the snow. Herding you closer and closer to his den. And don’t you just look delicious, smell absolutely divine, when all that fear and panic comes rushing back when you reach the end of his tracks. You’re so lucky that it’s him who pulled you from that lake, who’s been tracking you through this forest, and not some other, overeager beast that lacks composure and control.

No, he’s going to savor you. Going to take his time wearing you down. Get your adrenaline pumping, nice and warm for him when he finally brings you to his den. Then, and only then, will he taste you. Slake the thirst gnawing away inside of him, hollowing out his insides with the need to touch and taste and devour the sweet scent he’s been following for hours.

The snarl that rips from his throat is a primal thing, more animal than man, as he tastes your desperation, the spike of adrenaline when you finally realize you’ve been followed. His growl echoes in the silence that follows, beckons you to turn around, to let him see the fear as it unfolds across your features.

Let me see you, little one. Look at my teeth and claws and show me those pretty doe-eyes.

And god are you a fucking sight when you do, eyes wide with terror and shaking like a newborn on trembling legs. He knows you don’t shiver because of the cold, knows the decadent scent of dread and horror when it hits him, knows the instant you get that sinking feeling in your stomach when your eyes meet his and instead of doing what you should do, make yourself seem bigger, louder, you deflate. You curl in on yourself and don’t make a sound, hardly even breathe, until he pads forward, and you mirror his movement.

He steps forward, you step back. He steps to the left and you’re inching to the right. So easy for him, going exactly where he wants you to, doesn’t even have to snarl to get you to move in the right direction.

What a precious little thing you are, and you have no idea what’s in store for you.

He wouldn’t say it’s a game of cat and mouse, you haven’t even taken your eyes off of him, refuse to turn your back to him. So he keeps edging closer, hedging your little bubble of ‘safety’ you’ve managed to maintain. But then you go the wrong way, stumble over a fallen tree buried beneath the snow and it sets you off course, so he has no choice but to correct you.

Another low growl vibrates through him and it amuses him when your steps falter, when you freeze in place and he circles to come at you from the other direction.

This way, little one.

He moves further into your bubble and you start moving again, in the right direction this time. And though he can still taste the fear rolling off of you, there’s something else buried beneath it, tangy and acidic on his tongue. You don’t exactly back away from him anymore, either, just shuffle along with frequent glances over your shoulder to make sure he hasn’t gotten too close. Getting too comfortable. He’ll have to teach you how poor that decision is, to turn your back on him.

But not today. Today, you will go to his den, and he’ll be teaching you a different sort of lesson once he gets that nasty gouge on your side sorted. It’s beginning to bleed through his coat, deep red blooming against dull khaki, and you’re stumbling over everything and nothing. So he hedges closer, practically nipping at your heels to spur you on, get you moving just a bit quicker, until finally the scent of smoke and pine sap wafts through the air, and you make a relieved sound when the cabin comes into view.

You don’t need his guidance anymore. You know you need the warmth of that fire, the shelter the cabin offers. And you’re desperate enough not to care who it belongs to. Desperate enough that when no one answers your calls and you find the door unlocked, you go right in, go straight to the hearth and huddle as close as you can to the flames. You really shouldn’t, but you lay down, curl into the insulation of the coat and let your eyes droop closed, despite the risk of hypothermia that falling asleep poses. But you must be tired. You’d drowned. Nearly gutted yourself falling through the ice. Waded through wind and snow with a wolf at your back to get here.

Of course you’re tired. Tired enough that you don’t hear John come inside, don’t stir as he moves about and tends to himself and the fire. Only make a soft whining sound when he finally lifts you from the floor to settle you on the couch and peel away the blood-crusted layers that cling to your skin. He makes quick work of the wound, cleaning the dried blood from your skin and soaking up the fresh outpouring with gauze as he pushes the needle and thread through your skin, too exhausted to register the additional pain.

Fur lined blankets settle over you, cocooning you in warmth and shielding you from the lingering cold in the air. John watches you from his place on the adjacent armchair, feet kicked up on the old coffee table, and he hums knowingly when you burrow deeper into the blankets' warm refuge.

Rest now, little fawn. You’ll need all your strength when you wake.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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katiefrog217 · 6 months

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Crowley wasn't good at doing it himself, but Aziraphale was more than happy to preen his wings for him.

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Crowley wasn't very good at taking care of his feathers.

Aziraphale's were always so immaculately groomed. Rarely was a feather out of place, unless he was going through a particularly ill-timed molt. Some called it vanity, Aziraphale called it "looking presentable".

He could hardly blame Crowley for his lack of self-care though; his serpentine physique was hardly equipped with the tools to care for them. If it really got bad, he could always miracle them into shape, though he hardly even bothered to do that.

It had gotten to Aziraphale one day and he had set about fussing with the demon's wings, plucking out every errant feather and straightening the remaining ones. By the time he finished his task, the black feathers shone glossy and pristine in the lamp light. He puffed up with pride as he examined his handiwork, only to wither as realization doused him like a bucket of ice water.

He glanced nervously at the owner of the wings, realizing with a start just how many feathers lay strewn about them. He could make an entire second pair of wings with them, and just as well since he had dug deep and found feathers that should have fallen out 2 molts ago (really, how had Crowley managed to stand it? It must have itched like anything)! Crowley, for his part, lay beneath the carnage, coiled tightly around Aziraphale unmoving. His glasses had long been set side, and Aziraphale turned to find himself being watched by those beautiful golden orbs. He pondered for a moment if Crowley was asleep (hard to tell since serpents couldn't blink), but a small flick of a tongue when their gazes met proved him wrong. He wished he'd been right.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Apologies my dear, i-it seems I got quite carried away..." He mumbled awkwardly, embarrassment evident in his tone, his feathers puffing reflexively. It was practically the understatement of the century. 'Carried away'. Preening one's feathers was an inherently personal, bordering on intimate, thing. Crowley especially didn't seem to like anyone touching his wings and here he had spent Heaven only knew how long preening them himself, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS ASKING HIM FIRST--

He shifted uncomfortably when Crowley didn't reply immediately, choosing instead to leisurely inspect the angelic dove's handiwork. The silence was deafening, and Crowley seemed determined to stretch it out indefinitely as his slit pupils raked over each feather individually. Aziraphale desperately searched his gaze for anything he could discern, but only found concentrated scrutiny.

Then finally, finally Crowley turned his golden gaze back to him, his tongue flickering thoughtfully. Aziraphale's heart hammered with anxiety as he unknowingly held his breath, his wings shuffling awkwardly at his side. His fluttering heart nearly took off itself when he finally heard Crowley's low drawl.

"Mhm, thanks. They look... Better. Clean. Neat. It felt... Nice," Crowley said slowly, his s's elongating as he eeked out the rare compliment, the last part mumbled so quietly Aziraphale nearly thought he imagined it. Before he could muster a reply, Crowley dipped his head, laying it firmly beneath Aziraphale's feathery breast. His coils tightened as one came up to cover his face, shielding his eyes from view. Evidently, he was done talking.

Aziraphale stood there silently for a moment, letting his racing heart slow to a more normal rhythm before he thought of trying to extract himself from the demon's coils. He had bothered Crowley enough for one night, he thought. However, the moment he made to move, those newly preened wings stretched out on either side, trapping him in, he quietly resigned himself instead.

He would find later that preening Crowley's feathers would, as many other things between them had, become part of their routine. On nights when they look particularly egregious or found themselves with nothing better to do, they would settle in a warm corner of Aziraphale's bookshop, and allow themselves this quiet, yet delicate moment between them.

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