#or maybe you can crawl inside my mind and Do imagine it. maybe you are In my mind right now becuase yo’ure imagining it

[mickmundy]

sniper's loft bed headcanons pls 👁️👁️

omg.,., ehehe.,., i’m soo glad you asked this is something i am Not at All Insane About.,., ehee.,., and i actually think its probably for the best that i elaborate on this here since there really isn’t a graceful way to fit posts like this within a fic SKDFKSD so!! let’s get to it! starting off by saying i’ve been in and out of motorhomes, trucks with camper shells, vans, etc my entire life (though i would be doing it a lot more in my adult life if i could find ways to not have Every Bug On Earth eat me alive ;_; gwah!) so i guess i’m just a little biased for what i see In My Mind. i have yet to sketch out/floorplan out sniper’s van layout itself In My Mind but let’s just keep it vague enough to say it’s nothing flashy, but it’s cozy and Aged and… lived in! i’ve talked about it before in one of my Many headcanon posts but i think he was always taught that he doesn’t need material things and while i wouldn’t say he’s a hoarder by any means, i think he tries to convince himself everything in his home has a Practical Application just so he can justify hanging onto it! i think sniper is v sentimental and the stuff he chooses to keep might be a little “unconventional” by average standards (ie he doesn’t have lots of photos of his family, but kept his mum’s handmade quilts and his dad’s old knife and hunting rifle. also presses flowers and would keep the eggshell of when he and medic first ate breakfast in bed together, etc) but i could ALSO make a whole other post about just little knicknacks i think you’d find in sniper’s home at any given time HEHE… but i’m doing my best to stay on track so!!

i’m going to preface this with IM SORRY for the “pinterest looking ass” photos to describe what i’m talking about but just use this as a Basic Jumping Off Point. Not as the Literal Visual. work with me here… so i think sniper’s bed has LOTS of pillows and blankets. if you’ve ever slept in one of those loft bed camper van beds you’d know that those walls are cold and hard and don’t really hold heat in all that well! i think the blankets are a combination of furs he has (though he rolls up and stores them when its hot out), sherpa/wool, knit blankets and quilts, etc. all of different sizes and weights. whatever makes him comfortable! pillows are extremely worn in (as are the blankets; you could find lots of mends on them!) and comfortable just the way sniper likes them. i think he has so many layers because he sleeps naked and likes to be able to adjust what parts of his body are covered and what parts aren’t. he’s the king of sticking one of those loooong legs out of the covers, or having only his tummy covered and the rest of him exposed, etc! he likes being able to change things quickly to suit his needs. this is also great for draping something over his shoulders when he’s laying out on top of his van at night watching the stars or sitting in a lawn chair feeding hoots!

the space is small, so i think he’d also have a “nightstand” which really is just a “coffeetable book” (ie a big-ish hard cover book) of some subject he’s interested in that he’d keep pressed against the “long wall” of the camper that has just a battery-powered plastic lantern (for reading before bed ehe) on it, a worn-out old book of poetry or some kind of book he’s read a thousand times that he likes skimming before bed (this is not to be confused with the Utility Books he reads at others times about survivalism, gun cleaning, etc. this is a Wind Down Specific book), and aheh, when he starts really falling for medic, something else too… but i’ll discuss that later in my fics! ;-) if i’m being really self-indulgent i think he also has a stuffed animal from his childhood that he’s still hung onto all these years, but he keeps him stored away safely in a pillowcase because he doesn’t want it getting lost or damaged! :’( also he’s just a huge cuddlebug imo, so he likes having things he can Grab or fling his leg or arm over in his sleep (pillows, bunched up blankets, etc)! the space is small but he makes it very homey! HEHEHE

[moonstruckme]

hey babe!! i’ve been re reading all ur fics and i keep thinking about how lovely your one with remus and the reader who goes nonverbal is! i was wondering if you’d be down to write something like that again? maybe the first time r goes nonverbal with remus and him being worried but really caring once he realises what’s happening? or something w poly!marauders? it’s up to you!!!

i hope u are having a fantastic day!

smooches, rosa (mareagirls) 😽

Hi rosa my love! Thank you for requesting, I really hope you're doing alright <333

cw: reader is overstimulated, goes nonverbal

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Excuse us,” Remus says, pushing your cart between two others with you following closely on his heels. “Excuse me, sorry, can I just—yeah, thanks.” 

He knows better than to save his shopping for a Sunday. Unfortunately, the two of you had been too cozy watching movies and eating ice cream last night to think of the consequences, and now his apartment is completely out of food. 

“How do you feel about cinnamon raisin bagels?” Remus asks you. He feels like he almost has to shout to be heard in the mayhem of the supermarket. 

You shrug and make a noncommittal humming sound. 

“Fair enough.” He puts them back, grabbing the regular ones. “I know I can’t finish a pack before they go bad, so I’ll need your help.” 

Ordinarily, you might tease him about the unfairness of placing this responsibility on your shoulders, or quip that simply having James over would solve any problems of excess food quickly enough, but right now you don’t seem inclined to. You’ve been oddly reserved since you entered the store, your usual attempts at conversation petering off as if you’re trying to offset the noise of it all with your own quiet. 

Remus looks back at his list. “Oh, did you want to make that macaroni salad this week?” 

Another shrug and a sort of half nod, as though you do but you’re hesitant to say it. 

“We can, dove.” He gives you a small smile. “What do we need for that?”

Your eyes fall from his, going somewhere he can’t reach as your lip dents like you’re chewing on the inside. A child who’s commandeered a cart pushes it into you roughly, causing you to take an unwilling step forward. Remus folds you in between him and your own cart, giving the child’s mother a severe look. 

“Hey,” he says to you gently, “you okay?” 

Your throat moves with a swallow. You’re looking more and more in distress the more he looks at you, shoulders tight and the faintest of lines in between your brows. 

Remus is starting to worry. He clasps the back of your arm kindly, rubbing up and down. “Can you talk to me, dovey?” 

Your features pinch suddenly, and you shake your head. 

His mind whirs. “Let’s get out of here,” he says in the softest tone he can manage, letting his grip slip down to your hand. “Let’s go, sweetheart, okay?” 

This, you seem more than amenable to. You clutch his hand just as tightly as he clutches yours, allowing Remus to lead you through the aisles to the exit. He feels a bit guilty about leaving the full cart where it is, but he’ll deal with that later. 

The parking lot isn’t much better than in the store, but the inside of his car feels like a tiny bubble of peace. Remus sits sideways in his seat, assessing you worriedly. You’ve stopped chewing your lip, but the line between your brows has worsened, your eyes closing as you take a deep breath through your nose. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

You nod, exhaling. 

“Can I hug you? Would that help at all?” 

Your eyes open as you nod again, reaching for him. Remus doesn’t make you do the work, practically crawling over the center console to wrap you up. He pushes his palm in between your shoulder blades, imagining his affection pouring into you through it. You make a tiny sound, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

You stay like that for some time. Remus takes his cues from you, hugging you as long as you grip him tight and swaying back and forth a bit when that seems to help. His worry has crawled all the way up his throat, but it feels better just having you in his arms like this, knowing he’s got you close. 

After a while you let out a little sigh and loosen your grip. Remus lets you slip away, trailing his touch down to your forearms. 

“Feeling any better?” he asks, fully prepared to do whatever needs to be done if you say no. But you nod, and the tension in his chest eases slightly. “Yeah? Are you able to tell me what’s going on?” 

You start to chew your lip again, but Remus tsks, pressing his thumb into your chin so it comes free. 

“It’s alright if not, dovey.” 

You shy a bit, then open his glove box, taking out one of the small napkins he’s stowed away from past takeaway orders. Next you pop open his center console, digging around until you find a pen. 

“You want to write it down?” he asks, realizing. “That pen’s shit, let me find you a better one…here.” 

You take the pen from him with a hesitant smile, leaning down over his dash to write. Remus tries not to appear too nosy, looking out the window and watching people move past as you scribble on the napkin. Eventually, you hand it to him. 

Your handwriting is not at its best given the surface you’ve had to do it on, but he can make it out. You’ve explained, as succinctly as you can, what happened in the store. That this is something that happens to you from time to time, and that you’ll be okay in a while. 

Remus tsks as he finishes, lowering the napkin. “Sweetheart, I wish you’d said you were overwhelmed when we went in there. I would’ve taken us home.” You shrug, looking down at your hands. He takes one in his own, thumbing over the bumps of your knuckles. “How about this. I’m going to tell you an idea, and you let me know if it sounds good to you. Yeah?” 

You look up, nodding tentatively. 

“I’ll go back in and buy what we’ve gotten already, and then we’ll go back to my place and cuddle until it feels like we never left. Okay?” 

This time your nod is downright eager, a sort of relief in your eyes. 

Remus smiles, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Alright, lovely. Don’t go anywhere.” 

[actuallysaiyan]

Isn't This Your Naked Body In My Bed?(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, somnophilia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, nipple play, impregnation kink, vaginal fingering, domesticity, slight lactation kink

word count: 1.5k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

summary: Kento comes home late one night after work, and he's just dying to be so deep inside of you. The only slight little issue? You're asleep when he gets home. So he's got to warm you up a little bit first.

a/n: Dedicated to the wonderful and talented @seireiteihellbutterfly!!

For this request:

It’s been such a long day, and all Kento can think about is returning home to you. Thoughts of your pretty smile, loving touch and sweet scent are what keep him going. He’s in the car driving home and he turns on the radio. He smiles to himself when he hears the radio station playing your song. It’s the song that had been playing when he first confessed his love to you. It’s also your wedding song.

The car pulls into the driveway and that’s when he realizes just how late it is. He sighs as he opens the car door, shutting it as quietly as he can. Then he makes his way into the house, trying his best not to make a sound. It’s dark inside your shared home, and he knows that you’re more than likely asleep.

Kento slips on his house slippers, hangs up his jacket and places his briefcase at the entryway. He begins to tiptoe into the house, making sure he doesn’t make any disruptive noises to potentially wake you. His eyes scan the kitchen, noticing just how spotless it is. His heart swells with pride and love for you. You really do all you can to make sure he comes home to something so comforting and clean.

Eventually, he heads into the bathroom. With a sigh, he tugs on the knot of his tie and loosens it. Then he begins to undress as the water warms up in the shower. He’s been looking forward to this all day, and he’s practically salivating at the thought of being soothed and massaged by the high-powered shower head and hot water.

Once he steps inside, he can smell soft traces of your own soap and shampoo. He knows you must have had a shower just before bed, or maybe you had a bath. He wonders if you missed him just as badly as he missed you. His mind races, filling with thoughts of finding you in your shared bed all fresh and showered. A soft grunt rumbles through his chest as his cock twitches to life,

He wants to stroke himself, but part of him thinks about maybe saving this arousal for when he’s in bed with you. Maybe you’re still up, which was a possibility. You had a bad habit of lying in bed, scrolling on your phone til the wee hours of the morning. Kento begins to imagine how he could just go into the bedroom after his shower, his towel low on his hips and then he could just so easily press you into his favorite position.

With renewed gusto, Kento finishes up his shower in record time. His cock aches at the thought of being able to be deep inside of you soon. He finishes up his evening routine before padding his way into your shared bedroom. His eyes widen when he notices it’s dark inside the room, and you’re curled up under the covers. But he can’t help himself, he needs to feel you so close. He wants to be able to smell you and taste you.

His hands rip the towel off and he crawls onto the bed carefully. You slowly stir, but you don’t wake up. His eyes are calculating as he watches you slumber; your chest going up and down with soft breathing patterns. Your eyes are closed and a small smile plays on your lips. You look like an angel like this. 

Kento gently rolls you onto your back, causing you to moan. But still, you don’t wake up. His hands are so tender as he caresses your pretty face. He kisses your lips, only to be captivated completely by the smell of your sweet-scented shampoo and body wash. His cock twitches a few more times; the tip is red and leaking precum.

“Look at my pretty angel,” he whispers softly before kissing you again. Your eyes just barely open, but soon you’re back in dreamland.

His long fingers ghost over the soft little negligee you’ve got on. It’s silky and lacy, but it’s comfortable. He remembers when he bought you this little number. It was when he was on a long trip far from home, and he thought of you immediately when he saw it. The way it fits you like a glove turns him on so much, he’s not going to be able to hold back for much longer.

Then he pushes the skirt of the negligee up, exposing your cute little pussy to him. His mouth waters as he sees that you’re a little wet already. He wonders what you’re dreaming about, but he knows that you often dream about him. You let out a soft, sleepy mewl when his fingers part your folds. Your eyes glaze over, opening for a few moments before shutting again as sleep takes over you once more.

“Pretty little pussy,” Kento huffs in your ear as he lays down next to you. “All wet for me, hm?”

You groan as one of his fingers slips into you, “Mmm…Ken…”

You’re on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. There’s that fine line of consciousness. It’s so sexy to watch you react to this while you’re just barely awake. Your silky walls suck in his finger, coating the digit in your juices. Kento begins to pump it in and out of you, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide with lust.

His voice is gravely as he leans in again, “You still sleepin’, angel?”

You let out a mewl as his thumb comes up to rub your swollen clit, “Kento…”

He smirks as he keeps you stimulated just enough to keep waking you up, but you’re so tired and sleepy that you continue to drift off. He gently slides another finger into you, grunting as he feels your cunt gripping his fingers. Slowly and gently, he pumps them in and out of your dripping hole. He can basically smell you from here.

Kento nips at your neck softly, groaning as he gets a whiff of your body wash again. You smell divine. It makes his cock twitch once more, and he presses himself against you even more. As he pulls his fingers from you, he parts your thighs a bit more. Your eyes barely open as you feel the heft of his girth resting on your mound.

“You ready for me, darling?” he asks in a raspy tone. He taps the leaking head of his cock against your clit.

This makes you wake up a little more, a sleepy smile playing on your lips. Your eyes are just barely open as you watch him slipping the head of his cock into your cunt. A gasp is ripped from you as he slides all the way in, his balls plush against your ass. Your hands cling to him, grounding yourself from the intense pleasure.

“Did you forget about what we’re trying to do?” he asks you between soft kisses that turn even more heated.

You shake your head, “N-no, didn’t forget.”

He begins to roll his hips, the head of his cock rubbing up against that sweet spot deep inside of you that causes you to see stars. You can’t help the pathetic little noises that fall from your lips. Kento catches them all with his lips, 

Your legs slowly begin to wrap around him, and his hands come up to your breasts. He cups them, pushing them together before he dips his head down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You moan as he begins to suckle on your nipples, making you clench around him even more. Kento can see the sleepiness in your eyes slowly begin to dissipate.

“Is it safe to say that my pretty angel is waking up?”

You moan as he slides his hands under your hips, pulling you up against his muscular body. He loves the way you’re so close to your own climax already as he’s been stimulating you this entire time. Kento kisses a trail from your tits to your neck, biting down so gently. His breath is warm as it fans on your face.

“Gonna put a baby in you,” he grunts. “Going to make you a mommy,”

You can’t help but begin begging him for his cum. You’re becoming more and more desperate as your own climax begins building. Flames lick at the fire that’s so deep in the pit of your belly. The coil inside of you is so tight, you swear you’re about to cry from the heavenly pleasure your husband is providing you.

“Please Ken…please, I want it.”

“You’d like that, yeah? You want your big, strong husband to breed you?” Kento asks, feeling you clenching and pulsing around his cock.

He chuckles at just how fucked stupid you are already. Or maybe it’s partly the sleep that still hangs in your mind and body. He kisses you lovingly, and the minute his tongue touches yours, it’s all over. You cum hard, your nails desperately digging into the muscles of his back. Your cunt pulses and contracts around him; your gummy walls are beginning to milk him.

“That’s it, angel. That’s it,”

You whine softly as you feel his cock throbbing within you. Shot after shot of his thick cum begins to fill you up, painting your insides white. Slowly, he stops his pace and nuzzles his face against your chest. His hands come back up to cup your breasts, suckling on your softening nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to be full of milk…”

[pumpkinbxtch]

— your book vs. me ｡⁠:ﾟheadcanons

The HoO guys fight for your attention when you read, how do they do it?

warnings: actually none but maybe sexual suggestions (it's something very tiny) a/n: I still have my writer's block (Or something like that) but my mind is very imaginative. here you go. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ARE GOING TO SAY WHERE IS APOLLO? Excuse me, I'm going to compensate you in the following posts.

Percy:

This man is used to being surrounded by people who love to read.

He knows that if you're so immersed in it, he simply won't be able to pull you away unless the end of the world is around the corner (and even then, he wouldn't be sure you'd let go of the book).

Instead, he takes some things he can distract himself with and fiddles with them while lying on your legs. He loves that spot. While he's distracted with a fidget toy (one of the many he got in therapy for ADHD), he might catch some reactions as you read: when something makes you laugh, annoys you, or embarrasses you.

He loves watching you enjoy something you love.

Sometimes he'll rise and cover the book, and you give him a annoyed look. "Just a second, sweetheart," he assures and steals a kiss from your soft lips.

He hums softly before pulling away and lying back on your legs.

Jason:

Jason won't bother you, instead, as you're reading, he'll take you in his arms and sit you on his lap or position himself in a way that their bodies become intertwined.

He'll gently stroke your head or thighs, wanting to be with you but not interrupt your reading.

Sometimes he'll give you kisses on the cheek as you read, and you'll exchange sweet glances. Jason grabs one of his books, and they both immerse themselves in a comfortable, everyday, peaceful silence.

Frank:

Frank would never disturbe you while you're reading; he feels he couldn't cross that line.

However, he's eager to share moments with you so he ends up adjusting you onto him in a way that he can also see what you're reading and accompany you.

Sometimes he'll share certain comments under his breath—"I can't believe it," he says in amazement while waiting for you to turn the page—"Was it him all this time? He doesn't deserve her."

And you pause, turning towards him. Frank fears he might have bothered you, but instead, he gets a peck on the lips that throws him off balance, girl, you took his breath away, and you continue reading.

Sometimes he notices that what you're reading is a bit steamy, and he blushes.

Sometimes he clears his throat and lets out nervous giggles. When you look at him, he shakes his head slightly: "Did you know that could be done?" he asks,

and you end up suggesting that they could try it sometime.

Leo:

He can be gentle, cute, but not when he seems to need your attention. He'll want to try everything before giving up

, and even though he knows he'll probably lose, he doesn't miss the chance to show his affection in a thousand different ways.

He'll be singing for your attention: "Hey, look at me, look at me, I love you more than that book."

He'll jump on the bed and crawl towards you, some mischievous thoughts crossing his mind, "maybe this will work,"

and he'll settle between your legs and start kissing your knees and then the inside of your thighs.

When he sees it's not working, he moves away and lies down beside you.

He gives you repeated kisses on the cheek and steals some from your lips, but when he sees it's not provoking anything, that's when he finally gives up.

He flops onto the bed and pats his chest; that's the only thing you react to. In the end, all he wants is to have you close.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello! Just finished Die Happy, and oh my gosh what a wholesome and sad time!! I love the way you portray Sanji and his inner monologue with himself.

Would it be possible to get a continuation where reader ends up making it a habit of sleeping with Sanji now that’s she’s had a taste. They kind of make a nightly routine and no one really questions it because they just like seeing everyone happy. How would Sanji feel realizing that it’s been weeks since you first started sleeping with him? What if reader is trying to tell Sanji they actually really like him but he just thinks reader is to perfect for him so he’s kind of blind to her advances.

Thank you so much and I hope you have fun writing!!!

All ye who yearned (@federalclassroom @sparkyrosewood14 @zzbloody-animezz @clonaa @number-0-iz) come get y'all juice:

Maelstrom - Sanji x Reader

Part 2 to "Die Happy"

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

One night turned into two, two turned into a week and a week turned into... well, however long you and Sanji have been sleeping in one bed. He's not keen on keeping track but taking in the moment instead. He doesn't ask why you continue to crawl right back into his bedroom every night. In fact, he doesn't dare make any comment about your new habit out of fear that you might think he's grown tired of it.

Every night he thinks it might be the last, so he forces himself to stay up as long as he can. Although having you sleep soundly against his chest makes his heart rejoice, the new and asinine sleeping schedule he has implemented puts his body into a poor state. Sanji expected someone to say something but he hasn't considered the whole picture and how it looks to the other Straw Hats - he sleeps in one bed with you every night and looks exhausted during the day. It gives... quite a boost to one's imagination. This is why no one so far has made any inquiry about the new sleeping arrangement.

Even if only opportunity made him the person you like to waste your spare time with, Sanji feels as though the universe itself has smiled at him. Some god above him saw his suffering and decided to ease his burden a little. In his mind, this is the most logical explanation.

But that's about to change.

He feels you stir against him. Unknowingly, Sanji freezes, afraid that it's his feathery touches that wake you up from slumber. He holds his fingertips right above your skin, uncertainty hanging in the air.

"You're not sleeping?" you murmur against his chest.

Gently, he sets his hand back on your arm. Your skin is burning his fingers but he welcomes the scorch like frosty cheeks welcome the scarce sunlight in winter months.

"Just thinking about something," he answers with faux disinterest, hoping that you won't inquire further.

To Sanji's horror, you lean away from him and prop your chin up on your head, staring at his face from above. A bright, curious glint shines in your eyes.

"Come on, shoot. What keeps you awake at night?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, he's silently panicking for a moment.

You. All of you. From the way you say "good morning" in a raspy voice to the "goodnight" you separate with a yawn. How I can tell exactly what's on your mind by the expression on your face. The little dances you do when you're having a good day. How adorable your scowl is. The way my chest hurts when I see you frowning.

Sanji gives you a reassuring smile and shakes his head slightly. "Nothing you should worry about, love," he dismissed you. A beautiful liar he is - nothing in his voice indicates the dread that resides inside him.

His heartbeat quickens suddenly when you give him a flash of a smile. In the twilight of a dark night, you look like a faerie, luring a poor, lovesick man to bestow his deepest, darkest secrets upon you.

And Sanji just might.

"Maybe I want to." You shrug your shoulders. With your other hand, you poke his chest playfully. "I'm fine with worrying if it's about you."

Sanji swallows thickly. You're in his bed, snuggled against him and openly admitting you care about him. If he doesn't change the course of the conversation soon, he might act upon his desire, confess feelings he's been unwilling to admit even to himself.

"As much as I appreciate that," he begins nervously, "there's enough in that pretty little head of yours. You just lean on me and I'll do the rest." Sanji forces himself to smile softly at you as he makes a point of leaning through putting his hand on his chest.

You chuckle and bite your lower lip. Sanji's mind tries to slip into his well-known fantasies of kissing you but he manages to keep his thoughts at the present moment.

"Spoken like a true gentleman." Hinging on your forearm, you lean closer to his face. "Maybe it's you I should marry."

He clenches his hand covered by the duvet. Having you so close to him was a daydream until you made it turn into somewhat of a nightmare. Sanji keeps telling himself that whatever happens, he can't let you in on his feelings, fearing that if you learn of his hopeless affliction, you will abandon his intimacy once and for all. And that Sanji doesn't even want to consider as a possibility.

"I thought you wanted to marry a prince," he says in an attempt to divert the conversation.

A scoff leaves your lips and you shake your head in disapproval.

"Fuck princes," you drone out. "I'm not a participation award you can put in your trophy case and show off. I'm more like wild, untamed waters. Like a maelstrom." Your voice hangs for a moment and Sanji holds on to it with more hope than he thought he's capable of. Maybe the universe really did take pity on him. Then, you lean even closer to him, leaving a rather obscene lack of space between your faces. "And you, my lovely Sanji, are a skilled sailor."

His heart stops for a moment.

"Don't do this," he whispers in a weak voice. "Don't give me hope for something I can never have. It's cruel."

"'Can never have?'" you repeat in confusion. "It's your bed I keep crawling back into despite telling myself to stop doing that. You already have me. All of me. I don't care how desperate that makes me look. I want you to have me."

Sanji tries to control his ragged breathing. His iron will is crumbling as he allows himself to look at your lips. Is he dreaming?

"You shouldn't say things you don't mean," he warns you in a distant voice. His mind is too occupied, too busy going haywire, to be rooted in reality. Will you taste as sweet as he imagined? Will you linger on his lips like the reviving kiss of a goddess given to a dying man?

"You shouldn't assume I'm someone who just runs their mouth," you answer.

His lips barely touch yours. There's too much fear in him - fear, that this isn't actually happening. That you're just a dream within a dream, that he imagined this moment to curb his desperation. But then he feels you kissing him back, your lips engulfing his as though you're silently begging him not to go anywhere and stay with you. Sanji can't help himself putting his hand on the nape of your neck and fixing the angle off the kiss to deepen it; to kiss you like princesses deserve to be kissed.

Maybe you are a maelstrom - raging waters twisting into deadly whirlpools. But he's definitely not a sailor. A shipmate would navigate dangerous tides, while Sanji seems to be drowning. The waters of you are filling his lungs and yet he feels like he's breathing for the very first time. He's slowly falling farther away from the light of reason. Soon, darkness engulfs him. But it's not cold. It's not lonely. It's the darkness of a warm, summer night.

And in this darkness, drowned in the untamed waters of a maelstrom, he hears a siren singing in your voice:

The madness of returned devotion.

[pretty-toru]

boyfriend quiz ᰔ gojo satoru

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. fem!reader. established relationship. mentions of sweets. making gojo think every question he answers is wrong on a quiz you made up.

“Baby, let’s take a little couple’s quiz together, hm?” 

Satoru had just stepped into your shared bedroom after a hot shower. The ends of his hair still damp from towel drying and his cheeks just a tickled pink from the steam as he takes long strides toward you, crawling into bed and stealing some of your warmth from under the covers. 

“Hmm, why do I have a bad feeling about this~?” There’s a boyish smile on his face as he holds you close and nuzzles your neck softly, feeling like his head’s up in the clouds the moment he’s wrapped up in your scent. “But alright, I’m game! Let’s go, I’m ready. What’s the first question?”

The white tufts of your boyfriend’s hair delicately grazes your nose and you press a tender kiss to the top of his head. “So, imagine you’re at our favorite bakery, what do you buy?” You start with an innocent question, leading him to believe that there's no right or wrong answers but he suspects there's a trick up your sleeve.

“That’s a fun one! I’m at our favorite bakery, right~?” He ponders carefully for a moment. “Well, of course, I would want those delicious pastries, those yummy cakes, and those fresh breads! And while I’m there, I should grab a few of your favorites too!” 

You almost forget just how incredibly thoughtful and caring Satoru can be. How you’re always on his mind and he spends a lot of time thinking about you no matter his whereabouts. You know this because it usually manifests in forms of gifts and trinkets—some sweet, some odd, some over the top, but they’re all very near and dear to your heart. 

“Wrong.” You shake your head gently, forcing an exasperated sigh that tells him you’re disappointed and upset he managed to get the question wrong. But really, you’re just messing with him, making him think his answers are somehow incorrect in this one-sided game of yours. “You weren’t supposed to be there without me in the first place.”

“What do you mean, Angel~? Why can’t I be at the bakery without you? Even if I’m getting you something, too?” There’s a glimmer of confusion behind his cerulean hues, yet his earnest smile still remains and he’s a bit at loss for words but continues to indulge you. 

“Next question—” Satoru quickly plops an affectionate kiss on your cheek before you continue, hoping to remedy your crestfallen face. “You have now left the bakery, what’s the next thing you do?” 

“Easy. The next thing I do after leaving the bakery is be with my favorite girl, and share all the delicious things I got. I want to be with you, no one else.” 

There he goes being so sweet again! He’s making this extremely hard for you not to openly swoon over him and smother his face with so many kisses, and he can see the way you’re biting the inside of your cheek trying to suppress your smile that he’s getting to you. But you shake your head again, “Wrong! You’re supposed to pick up the strawberries from the market like I had asked you to.”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right! I forgot all about the strawberry you wanted~” Satoru gasps loudly and runs a stressful hand through his hair. He then laughs and playfully rolls his eyes that he somehow answered wrong for the second time now. “Fine, I’ll go pick up the strawberries.” 

You couldn’t help the quick kiss that lands on his cheek for being so utterly cute and adorable as you giggled along with him. “Okay, next question—a girl approaches you and she looks like she wants to hug you. What do you do?” 

“Hm, who is she and why does she look like she wants to hug me?” He tilts his head to the side as he considers the situation. You feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s merely seconds away from getting a curveball thrown at him. Even though you know kind of partner he is, you’re quite curious as to what he’ll come up with. 

“Well, what do you do~?” You gently urge him for an answer. 

“It really depends, Angel. Are you the girl then?” His lips curl into a smirk, and he looks at you almost too knowingly like he could read your mind. But you know that even his Six Eyes can't do that. 

You hate that he was able to figure it out so easily. He watches as your face lights up into your perfect and gorgeous smile, with your head falling onto his chest and face burrowing in defeat. All of his answers were simply too sweet and considerate with you in mind and you can feel your heart swell with so much love and adoration for him.

Your muffled words come up to reach his ears, “How’d you know to answer that I was there with you? You’re too smart for this. But yes, the girl is supposed to be me.” 

“So you approached me, and you wanted to hug me, right~?” He strokes your hair softly and offers an amused chuckle. You slowly lift yourself off him to meet his soft gaze, nodding. “If you want a hug, you always get a hug, sweetheart.” 

Satoru doesn’t need to be told twice to have his strong arms coil around your figure, locking you sweetly in his hold that makes you feel completely safe and secure in his warm embrace. Then, a lingering kiss to your forehead just before he releases you but you can feel the faintest waver in his loosening grip that he never wants to let you go.

“Okay, one last question?” Your weight dips on the mattress beside him, tucking yourself in the nook of his arm and resting your head on his chest. He hums contently when your body always seems to fit so perfectly with his as he brings you closer to him like he can’t get close enough. ”What are we doing next?”

“Well, we could go home, eat the baked goods and the strawberries. After that, maybe snuggle while watching a movie and take a long nap together. How’s that sound to you, baby?”

You briefly mull over his words, and you can’t remember the last time he truly took some time off and enjoyed himself without restraints. So you’re determined to plan a fun and romantic getaway because even your loving and goofy boyfriend deserves a much-needed break to experience the small joys and pleasures with you every now and again.

“That sounds like our perfect next date.”

[imyourbratzdoll]

Can I please request best friends, dad!Lloyd, finding you masturbating in his bed!! Maybe include some toys+squirting?? Thnnnx!! Love your blog💘💘

hey honey, thank you so much!

summary - you've been pining over your best friend's dad and decide to take your chance, knowing he's out and your best friend is asleep, you be a little bit naughty and touch yourself on his bed, not knowing he's coming home early.

warning - smut, masturbating, voyeurism, squirting.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You were sneaky, waiting until your best friend fell asleep so you could sneak out of her room. You’ve hung around enough to know that her father works late, only coming home early in the morning, sometimes covered in blood. You had a slight crush on the man. I mean, could you really be blamed? Wearing your tiny white nightie as you head toward Mr Hansen’s room, you sneak inside, not bothering to close the door as your friend sleeps deeply. 

Your trusty toy tucked into your hand, with your free hand, you drag it along his sheets, sighing as they are so soft. You get wet just thinking about Lloyd lying naked between the sheets, stroking his thick member. You whimper, crawling onto the bed and lying down. You moan as your body relaxes. Your eyes slip closed, and your fingers skim your nipples. They slowly slide down your body, landing between your legs and circling your puffy clit. 

You blindly turn your toy on, placing it directly onto your clit, causing soft mewls to escape your lips. Your mind begins to drift off thinking of Lloyd, imagining him walking in on you, degrading you, until he finally flips you around and thrusts into you. You are so caught up in pleasure that you don’t hear Lloyd arriving home earlier than usual or entering the house and making his way to his room. You don’t even notice him leaning against the doorway, and you whine as you arch your back, grinding down onto the toy. “Oh, Mr Hansen.”

Lloyd crosses his arms as he watches you with a smirk and clears his throat. His smirk grows when your eyes fly open, and you freeze, mouth opening and closing as you try and find an excuse for why you are in his bed, touching yourself. “Well, sweetheart. If I had known this is what I would’ve been coming home to, I would’ve come home much faster.” His eyes slowly move down your body, licking his lips when they land on the soaked toy between your legs. Lloyd waves his hand. “Don’t stop on my account, please. Continue.”

“M–mr Hans–” He cuts you off with a raised brow. You feel your body heat up and your cunt throb as he stares you down. You gasp as you press the toy harder against your clit, and your legs fall open, giving Lloyd a better view. 

“Mm, that’s right, pretty girl. Get off in my bed. I bet you wouldn’t even be able to stop even if my daughter woke.” He smirks, making his way over and sitting close to you on the bed, causing your mind to go fuzzy from his scent alone. You throb when he touches your thigh, stroking it as his gaze sticks to the toy between your legs. “You’re such a naughty girl, pining over your best friend’s dad… Hmm.” You look at him with wide eyes, mouth falling open and eyes crossing. “You thought I didn’t notice? It’s quite flattering, pumpkin. Why do you think I walked around half-naked? Or brushed up against you.” Lloyd smirks, stroking your cheek before gripping your chin and resting his thumb on your plump bottom lip. “Are you going to cum for me? Make a mess on my sheets?” 

You whine, nodding. Lloyd groans when your lips wrap around his thumb, and you begin to suck, staring up at him with wide innocent eyes. Your walls pulsate, and your clit throbs, toes curling as your end approaches. “Mr Hansen!” Your back arches, and your juices squirt out of you, tiring your body and causing you to sag into the bed. Your eyes flutter, the toy falling limp between your legs. “I–I’m sorry…” You realise what you have done and try to get up, but Lloyd stops you.

“Don’t be sorry, pumpkin. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Lloyd grabs the toy, feeling his cock stir with how wet it is and holds it up, watching with a smirk as your juices create a string. “Naughty, naughty girl. Look at the mess you’ve made.” You watch with wide eyes as he licks up your arousal before throwing the toy aside and climbing on top of you. “Just because you’ve had your fun, sweetness, doesn’t mean you can leave. You don’t want to leave without letting me pump you full, right?” 

You shake your head, feeling your cunt throb in anticipation. Your fantasy was finally coming true.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[heartshapedbubble]

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

[ghcstao3]

prompt from @juggalomary :

“A teenaged ghost who often shows up to places with bruises and cuts. Who is a regular visitor of the homeless shelter by the soccer pitch popular with the local grammar school boys. Soap who is a troubled student from the grammar school who plays keeper in soccer matches with his friends.

One day ghost missed the final call before they locked the shelter after a late night argument with his dad. He slept on bench for the home team at the pitch. Soap being soap was up at that ungodly hour playing soccer when he accidentally hit ghost with his water bottle.

Next thing they knew ghost will either throw rocks at soaps windows or just walk through the front door when he can’t sleep at home.”

-

Plink.

Johnny frowns, tearing his gaze away from his homework for a moment to wonder if he’d really just heard something. But when nothing happens for at least another minute or so following, Johnny resumes his work and chalks it up to his imagination.

Plink.

There, again. Johnny turns to the window where he’s sure the sound had come from, if it isn’t just in his head, and watches. Mindlessly twirls his pencil between his fingers and waits… for nothing. Another drawn out silence.

Plink.

Just as Johnny is making for his second dismissal, there’s a flash of grey bouncing off the glass that catches his eye. He slowly sets his pencil down and stands from his creaky desk chair before creeping toward the window.

There, on his lawn, with a bruised jaw and a toothy grin, is none other than Simon Riley.

Johnny hastily pulls his window open, leaning over the sill to whisper-shout, “Were you throwing rocks?”

“Maybe I was,” Simon whisper-shouts back. He less-than-discretely empties his hoodie pocket of an arsenal of pebbles now that he’s gotten Johnny’s attention. “You have room for one tonight?”

“Your dad kick you out?”

Simon shrugs a shoulder, grimacing. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, well—“ Johnny casts a quick glance back to his room, winces at the state of it, then decides Simon probably wouldn’t care, “—I’m sure my Ma won’t mind. Just wait there a sec.”

His Ma wouldn’t mind, sure, she loves Simon—but Johnny doesn’t imagine she’d be all too pleased to be disturbed at this hour, either, so he’s silent leaving his room to quietly greet Simon at the front door to let him in.

It’s the first time he’s ever come this late.

Johnny immediately shushes Simon once he’s ushered inside, though Simon has yet to say anything. He lets himself be led toward Johnny’s room without a word, dutifully following Johnny’s silent instruction to sit on the bed and wait while he retrieves the First Aid kit from the bathroom.

The bruise is worse, up close, though it’s old. Nothing Johnny can fix.

What he can fix, however, is the cut on Simon’s temple and the one through his bottom lip—all it requires is some gentle blotting of a cloth soaked with cold water to clean, and butterfly stitches on Simon’s head because it’s either that or Johnny’s wee sister’s princess bandaids to keep the wound covered.

Which, Simon jokes, would make him look too tough. But they both know the real reason he can’t use one.

When Johnny realizes he’s still leaning too far into Simon’s space, even now having finished tending to his cuts, he reels back before Simon can notice the blush that begins to bloom across his face.

Johnny hangs his head, picking at a loose thread on his pyjamas, doing his best to ignore the warmth burning from ear to ear.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” He mumbles.

He can feel Simon staring at him, something he always seems to be doing whether or not Johnny notices. Johnny continues picking at the string.

“Not really,” Simon says. “Can we sleep?”

Johnny nods, standing to push his desk chair back in place. He can hear Simon moving back on the bed, crawling underneath the covers like he’s now done so many times. Johnny clicks off his desk lamp and blindly wanders to the unoccupied side and gets into bed along with Simon.

They sleep back-to-back, always. And also like always, Johnny fights his exhaustion until he can be sure that Simon’s breathing has evened out; that he’s actually getting a proper rest.

Johnny knows he’ll have to deal with his Ma in the morning, but he doesn’t care. He just wishes it were easier for Simon to be safer like this every night, and not just the few he ends up staying here.

Johnny is still happy to provide any bit of help he can, though. God knows Simon needs the support.

Satisfied when he hears quiet snores escape Simon, Johnny, too, falls asleep.

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair. 

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder. 

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking. 

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs. 

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk. 

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers. 

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself. 

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.” 

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims. 

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers. 

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper. 

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid. 

“What?” You whip your head around to her. 

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.” 

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.” 

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?” 

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it. 

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.  

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.” 

“Or gambling.” Emily adds. 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.” 

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles. 

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk. 

“I do not!” 

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans. 

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly.  “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity. 

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly. 

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?” 

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own. 

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought. 

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared. 

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.” 

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –” 

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward. 

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?” 

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.” 

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you. 

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?” 

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.” 

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?” 

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.” 

“Of course, Doctor Reid.” 

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.” 

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked. 

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.” 

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?” 

“No, we just –” 

“Hooked up.” You finish for him. 

“For a couple months, yeah.” 

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?” 

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.” 

“What did you call her?” 

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs. 

“Wow, who knew.” 

“What?” 

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders. 

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away. 

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile. 

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?” 

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over. 

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –” 

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily. 

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek. 

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back. 

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away. 

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss. 

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip. 

“What for?” You blink. 

“Kissing you.” 

“I kissed you.” 

“I kissed you back.” 

“And you should do it again.” 

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer. 

“It’s inappropriate.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“There’s paperwork.” 

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.” 

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest. 

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?” 

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects. 

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket. 

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot. 

“It’s kismet.” 

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.” 

“It is.” You say earnestly. 

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?” 

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second. 

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.” 

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?” 

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.” 

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.” 

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing. 

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you. 

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck. 

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core. 

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin. 

“I want you.” 

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.” 

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.” 

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?” 

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly. 

“I’ll take care of you.” 

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own. 

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment. 

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?” 

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie. 

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.” 

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately.  “I don’t wanna go slow.” 

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.” 

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.” 

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?” 

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager. 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?” 

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?” 

“Spencer,” you plead. 

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.” 

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more. 

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece. 

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips. 

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.” 

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more. 

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more. 

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him. 

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom. 

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands. 

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?” 

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw. 

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.” 

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember. 

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him. 

“I thought of you too.” You confess. 

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.” 

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.” 

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts. 

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him. 

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.  

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest. 

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed. 

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you. 

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back. 

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?” 

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action. 

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained. 

“You can. I want you to.” 

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word. 

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place. 

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.” 

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles. 

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit. 

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes. 

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap. 

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.” 

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”��

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”  

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” 

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him. 

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.” 

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters. 

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you. 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle. 

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it. 

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs. 

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.” 

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.” 

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.” 

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head. 

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.” 

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match. 

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.” 

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan. 

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm. 

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters. 

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you. 

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face. 

“Are you okay?” He inquires. 

“I’m perfect.” 

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.” 

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window. 

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases. 

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?” 

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently. 

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.” 

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.” 

“Boo!” Emily exclaims. 

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!” 

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you. 

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns. 

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific. 

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined. 

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things. 

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts. 

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off. 

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it. 

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly. 

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world. 

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house. 

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile. 

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food. 

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it. 

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly. 

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move. 

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher. 

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead. 

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene. 

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again. 

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved. 

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you. 

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu. 

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream. 

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you. 

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by. 

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments. 

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat. 

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead. 

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket. 

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again. 

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?” 

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond. 

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose. 

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you. 

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow. 

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment. 

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens. 

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious. 

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing. 

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again. 

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city. 

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place. 

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor. 

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety. 

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion. 

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life. 

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread. 

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him. 

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude. 

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways. 

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then. 

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place. 

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.” 

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds. 

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card. 

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself. 

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection. 

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer. 

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile. 

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside. 

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval. 

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along. 

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming. 

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions. 

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks. 

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t. 

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself. 

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room. 

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around. 

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway. 

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up. 

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks. 

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news. 

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove. 

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made. 

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak. 

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink. 

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie. 

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding. 

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body. 

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open. 

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake. 

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead. 

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body. 

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up. 

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again. 

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back. 

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign. 

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly. 

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth. 

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet. 

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here. 

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?” 

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water. 

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver” 

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control. 

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief. 

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going. 

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer. 

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words. 

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason. 

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you. 

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream. 

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily. 

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks. 

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water. 

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake. 

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you. 

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him. 

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall. 

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream. 

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer. 

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life. 

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment. 

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine. 

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment. 

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.” 

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. 

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers. 

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath. 

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?” 

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin. 

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh. 

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead. 

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger. 

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out. 

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave. 

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails. 

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together. 

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in. 

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter. 

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice. 

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside. 

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you. 

“Help me,” She pleads. 

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table. 

“Please.” She sobs again. 

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring. 

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago. 

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces. 

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her. 

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck. 

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again. 

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never… 

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five. 

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five. 

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you. 

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you. 

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent. 

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be. 

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face. 

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave. 

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder. 

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again. 

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean. 

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment. 

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you. 

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium. 

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!” 

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know. 

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood. 

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight. 

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand. 

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver. 

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words. 

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage. 

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.” 

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand. 

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face. 

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile. 

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

[strniohoeee]

Hiii!!! Can you do one on how Matt sometimes feels a little down and likes to journal in peace so the reader always knows to leave him alone and usually goes to nicks room, and when Matt feels better he goes to get reader but they fell asleep on nicks bed and Matt carries them to his room/bed and cuddles. I know you wanted more fluff so I thought about this little idea!!! 😊

Scribbling

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N and Matt are star gazing when she feels like something’s heavy on Matt’s mind. She offers him his journal and space. 📘

Warnings⚠️: None, just a cute little imagine

Song for the imagine: Kiss Me- Sixpence None The Richer

Oh, Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift up your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance

Matt and I laid on the lawn chairs in their yard staring up at the night sky. My favorite thing to do with Matt was watch the stars sparkle in the night sky.

I loved the way his eyes sparkled in the night sky. It made my heart flutter and a sheepish smile crawl across my face.

“How many stars do you think are out there?” Matt suddenly asked me

“Like in our galaxy or in every galaxy?” I asked him

“Mmm ours” he said looking up at the sky again

“I’d say over a billion stars” I replied

“That’s a shit ton of stars” he said giggling lightly

“It is, and that’s just a guess” I said glancing over at him

“We should buy a star, and name it together” he said looking over at me

“I’d like that” I said looking over at him giving him a smile

“What would you name it?” He asked me

“Mm I’m not too sure, maybe stary?” I said giggling

“And I thought I was the boring one” he said laughing

“Hey that’s not nice” I said rolling my eyes at him in a playful manner

“How about buddy?” He asked

“And stary is boring?” I said laughing

“Oh whatever” he said laughing at me and rolling his eyes in a playful way

Matt got silent, and continued to look at the sky blinking slowly. I knew he was deep in thought, and it made my heart warm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I whispered to him

“Nothing really, just taking all this in. My life, my career….you” he said back

“That doesn’t seem like nothing” I said back

“Well yeah, but you know it’s just my constant thoughts” he said smiling

“Feeling okay?” I asked him

“Yeah I’m good” he said looking at me and giving me a reassuring smile

“You seem a bit down lately” I responded back

“I wouldn’t say down, but maybe not myself” he said looking at me

“You should write” I replied

“Write? I haven’t written in weeks” he said

“That's perfect. I know writing helps you! I’ll get your journal for you” I said getting up

I walked back into the house grabbing Matt’s journal from his room, and his favorite black pen. I walked back out and handed the book to Matt

“I know you enjoy to write while alone, I’m going to head inside” I said kissing him

“You don’t have to go” he said looking at me

“No it’s okay. Enjoy your alone time” I said running my hands through his hair

Matt nodded at me, giving me a half tooth smile before opening his journal. I turned on my heels and walked back into the house

I walked up to Nick's room lightly knocking to see if he was awake. I heard a whispered “come in”, and I opened the door letting myself in, and shutting the door behind me.

“Hey” I said slipping my slides off

“Hey Y/N” he said smiling at me

“Can I hang with you?” I asked

“Of course! Matt fell asleep?” He asked moving over on his bed to make space for me

“Oh no, he’s journaling, and you know he prefers to be alone” I said sitting on his bed

“Oh yeah” he said nodding his head

“What you watching” I asked him covering my legs with his sheets

“I just watched an episode of Love is Blind, but I wasn’t feeling it” he said shrugging his shoulders

“This last season was so drama filled I didn’t like it” I said

“I know it’s like it’s this a dating show what is going on” he said laughing

“Dude for real” I said

“Want to watch a movie instead?” He asked me exiting out of Netflix

“Yeah I’m down” I said propping a pillow up to lean on

“What are you thinking?” He asked

“Mmm Stand By Me?” I asked him

“Yes let’s do it” he said getting excited

Nick put the movie on, and we watched occasionally while having conversations.

“Hey, is Matt okay?” I asked him

“Of course he is, why wouldn’t he be?” Nick asked concerned

“I figured you’re his brother, so he’d tell you something more than me. He told me he just hasn’t been feeling like himself” I replied

“I just think with us getting more popular and our lives moving faster he’s a bit scared he’s going to lose you” he replied

“Why would he think he’d lose me?” I asked getting sad

“You know his anxiety, he thinks you’ll get bored of him having to work so much, and you’d leave him” he said back

“I’d never do that” I said letting my face fall into a frown

“I told him that, but you know how Matt gets once he’s in his head” Nick said offering me a reassuring smile

“I guess that’s true” I said smiling lightly at him

Nick and I finished Stand By Me and put cartoons on, but eventually we both fell asleep. I hadn’t realized how long Matt was outside writing, or how long I’ve been asleep.

In a groggy state I saw Nick's door open, and the light from the hallway flooding in. I didn’t think much of it.

I felt myself getting lifted off the bed, and I woke up a little bit. Wrapping my arms around Matt’s shoulders

Matt brought me down to his room and placed me in his bed putting the covers over me.

“Matt?” I questioned as he shut the light off

“Yeah” he said in a whisper

“Are you feeling better?” I asked as I turned over to the feeling of the bed dipping in

“Yes baby” he said fully laying on the bed and placing the covers over himself

“I love you, and I want you to know I’d never leave you” I said pulling him in to me

“I guess…I guess I just get so scared that you’d get tired of me, and would want something else with someone else” he said wrapping his arm over my waist

“I would never do that you’re the man of my dreams” I said snuggling my face into his neck

“I love you” he said kissing my head

“I love you too” I said inhaling his scent

“Get some rest” he said running his hands up my back

“I like the name buddy” I said

“What?” He asked laughing, thinking you were sleep talking

“For our star together, I like the name buddy” I said again

“Oh…okay my love. We can name it whatever” he said giggling and pulling my head in closer to him

I giggled lightly, and slowly let the sleep take over my body. My body falling limp against Matt’s as my breathing slowed down.

Falling asleep in the arms of the love of my life…what a dream.

The End

This idea had me kicking my feet and giggling. Whoever requested this I hope you loved it, and I love you 😭🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[nicherayyy]

Niche!! Im glad to see u back!! How are you doing?

I had this scenario in my mind about La Squadra x child reader and im sorry if my asks are too much but I love the way you write this entire concept so much, i rlly hope you don’t mind if I share some of my scenarios and thoughts.

There was this video , the closest I could find to the original (besides that annoying robotic voiceover, I apologise )

I thought it was so cute because I can only imagine this w Pros. Imagine receiving a crumb of this mans affection😭 Like ofc he tries to look professional, even at home, but for his kid?? I think he would appreciate it, especially if reader is not really the cuddly type as they get older. Maybe there will be a pat on the back or head, or a genuine smile, letting you know that even if you get older he will still love you the same. He will still fight for you, protect you and root for you- because you are his child. I like to imagine Ghiaccio too- he would try to ask what you are doing as you simply settle against him, just wanting to show some affection. he won’t complain once he realized what you were trying to do- on the inside he is like 🥺. You are his kid and he will not deny your hugs, wrapping his arms around you and leaving the laptop he previously worked on aside- even if Formaggio or Illuso come barging in, teasing him and all, he will make a note to beat them up later-but for now he will enjoy this moment between you two (Cue these two idiots wanting hugs too, but you will never catch Illuso alive saying that)

Hiii! I’m doing great, thanks for asking <3

And no, I absolutely love this type of requests, so don’t worry abt it!!

Okay so here’s the hcs

Teenage Reader hugging their Father Figure from La Squadra

Oh yes, Risotto Nero. Stoic leader of the most feared assassin group

And a loving father

Just imagine this tall, intimidating man cuddling his child😭💔

And of course, as reader was younger, they used to cuddle all the time

Reader returned from school? Cuddles

Reader is getting ready for bed? Yeah, could someone (*cough cough* Risotto) give them a cuddle?

So yeah, reader is basically a cuddle bug

But after some years of course, cuddles became a rare occurrence

(Which Risotto was very sad about)

But he understood, maybe reader just didn’t want to, or think that cuddles are for children

So when teenage reader just crawled into Risotto’s arms just like in old times..

The man literally melted

Immediately hugged reader back

He didn’t even realise how much he missed this😭

“If I’m too heavy I can stand up”

“Please don’t”

Literally so happy

With Prosciutto it’s a bit different

Of course, even after reader got older he still gives them some pats on a head and words of encouragement

I mean, it’s his child, he loves them to death

But still, he wasn’t an affectionate type of parent

And when reader crawled into his lap he immediately got still

For a few seconds he didn’t know what to do

“Is it okay? If you don’t want to cuddle—“

“I do want to cuddle”, he hugged reader back

Okay let me tell you Pesci is so sad when reader stop wanting to cuddle

Like.. why don’t they want to cuddle?

Did he do something and now reader hates them?

Where’s his cuddly baby?😭

But he made peace with it after some time

I mean, reader is a teenager now

And I guess it’s not so cool for teenagers to hug with their dad

So when reader just randomly hugged him..

He cried

And of course hugged reader back

“Wha- why are you crying?”

“I’m just *sob* so happy”

Melone is a cuddle bug himself

Like he LOVES to cuddle

It’s his favourite way to show people that he cares for them

So when his child got older and stopped to cuddle he was really sad

He knew it was normal, reader got older and maybe they just stopped liking this type of affection

And of course he didn’t expect to get a hug from them when he was working on his laptop

The speed with which he put aside all of his tasks😭

Mf was over the moon with happiness

“You have no idea how happy I am right now”

Okay I believe Ghiaccio won’t tolerate any cuddles

Unless those cuddles are from reader

I mean they’re his child, why wouldn’t he want cuddles from them?

But of course he won’t show it

Imagine reader crawling into his arms and he’s like:

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddling”

“Okay”

HE LOVES IT

Even is he’s just sitting on the couch with poker face, he still will hug reader back

And if someone (*cough* Formaggio *cough* Illuso) tries to tease him about it.. well Ghiaccio would handle it later

Let’s just hope this someone has enough time to stay frozen

Speaking about Illuso

I think he like cuddles

But he rarely initiates them

Of course he loves giving his child affection, only he prefers to show his love with words or gift giving

But still he would appreciate the hug from reader

“Oh so you still love your old man? How sweet of you”

The same as Melone, Formaggio is a cuddle bug

But let’s be fr, he loves all types of affections

Pats on the back, words of encouragement, you name it

He always initiates cuddles with reader

And he’s got kinda used to the fact that only he initiates them

So when reader initiated hugs first—

“OH MY GOD FINALLY”

He immediately hugged reader back

And I mean this tight bear hug

Definitely won’t let reader go for a few minutes

[xxsycamore]

Ok so like hrengtadzk💀

Napo and MC fucking but like the unlocked door. Someone walks in. huehuehuehue

Basically I'm gonna say it again cuz I was being incoherent. Napo and MC run off in the middle of the day (like you said in your public sex hcs about him) and someone does catch them behind a (un)locked. There's people who get off of it me

Pretty that's exhibitionism but somewhat without consent

Ludy your imagination is dangerous

Napoleon + getting caught

Yes, it happens exactly how you pictured it, riding off the waves of excitement brought by the risk, with Napoleon teasing about how "Anyone could walk in, but we don't have to worry because you claimed you can be quiet, isn't that right?", being confident about his own ability to remain alert while fucking you. And truly, he is helping you stay quiet, be it by commanding you to bite the pillow or by clasping his hand tightly around your mouth.

Still, it's bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe he was too worked up and couldn't wait to pounce on you, maybe he fiddled with the key but never actually turned it in the lock... Suddenly the world has narrowed down to the two of you, all heavy breaths and rustling clothing and shallow thrusts that minimize the wet noises of copulation and the sweet nothings he says in your ear, making you toss your head to one side and then the other as if you want to deny the obscene thoughts he puts in your head... and you both get a little too much into it. And the door creaks open, the sound falling on deaf ears, as someone walks in.

Luckily, with those quickies, Napoleon always happens to be on top of you. It's only natural, that way he'd have complete control over every move, and you have to leave it to the commander in the room to conduct his strategy when the stakes are that high. It ends up working in your favor when you get caught in the act. Napoleon is the first to react, senses sharpened with years in the making from his past life, and even though his muscles tense, he remains completely still, shielding you with his body. You might have a more jumpy reaction, but he's got you in his grasp, knowing that it's best for you to remain where you are rather than try to crawl out from underneath him.

Not that the unfortunate resident who walked in would stay for long enough that you and Napoleon have to consider separating from each other. The guy excuses himself in the very next second and is out of sight before you can get a grasp of what's happening. You probably missed it, but it was something in Napoleon's eyes that drove him away. The door is slammed shut again and Napoleon is still buried inside you.

For someone who is always making himself available and cares deeply about helping his housemates, you understand that if that person remained just a second longer here, it would have meant that the mansion was burning down. At the very least.

Now, his following actions would be completely decided by your own reaction to what happened. He'll get on his elbows to have a better look at your face, he'll caress it and ask if you're alright. He'll say he's sorry for being so reckless. He will not touch you anymore if you got turned off by it.

But if you didn't... if you let him know that you're genuinely okay with what happened, if you rock your hips into his and show him how much you want him still... he won't be able to hold back anymore. He'll pin your hands down to the bed and fuck into you with new vigor, not even understanding himself in that moment. It could be his possessiveness clawing at him, making him want to erase the other person's presence from your mind completely. Even if they likely didn't get a glimpse of anything else than your face, isn't that enough to feel jealous over? Those are the lewd expressions that you do only for him. Noone else gets to see them.

Or maybe that's exactly what he achieved. By showing how much he owned you in that moment.

As a whole, it's pretty much hit or miss for him - largely decided by his partner's reaction to it, but also because the pleasure he gets out of it is momentarily and he'd be thinking about it afterward with an aftertaste of jealousy and regret in his mouth. He's not going to feel awkward facing the resident afterwards but he might still have to mention something about it, depending on who it was.

The situation ranges from Arthur's flirty "ohhh, space for one more ;) ?" (he's just trying to make it less awkward before he walks out of the room. i think.) to Isaac being traumatized for at least a week, to Sebastian rushing to his room to write in his diary, to Theo complaining out loud while he walks away about how he already has to be mindful of the same thing happening with Arthur and how he's this close to moving out.

5/10 "Liar. You're saying you liked it just a little bit, but I felt you tightening around me. Is this turning you on that much? Being watched as I take you? Do you wish they'd stayed longer, so you can make it clear to them how I'm the only one who can claim you, leave you well-loved and leaking my cum? You'll regret leaving me with this information, Nunuche."

-> (ALWAYS OPEN) send me a kink & I’ll give you a headcanon and rating for Napoleon!

🦶foot fetish 🥵breeding kink 🥕pregging 😈dom/sub 🍈breast kink ⛓bondage 🩸period kink 👄marking 🐺predator/prey 🏙public sex 🤗praise kink 👅 cunnilingus 🍌blowjobs (receiving)

[flurrys-creativity]

Monster under the bed

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung (Ateez) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Fantasy, Supernatural, SMUT, PWP; Rating: nsfw, 18+, MDNI; Warnings: Monster!Wooyoung, invisibility -> able to use it like the Cheshire cat, body morphing, glowing eyes, smut -> consensual sex, tentacles, teasing, edging, slight breast play, pinning down, praise kink, unprotected sex; Wordcount: 1.761

Summary: Late at night you decide to do release your body from some tension. Being in the middle of a session you suddenly get joined by something or someone else.

A/N: This is another collab deal thingy with @sanjoongie She'll post a similar story with reversed roles some day too! Also thanks for @daemour for helping with inspiration and big shout out to @potatomountain for keeping me motivated with a bunch of Wooyoung pics!

Every person had an assigned monster under their bed - no matter how old they were. That monster feasted on human emotions at night. While most of them used fear or joy to consume, Wooyoung had discovered another possibility: desire.

He got his cue when he heard the first moan. Wooyoung stretched his limbs, using his ability to turn invisible and silently crawled out from under the bed. He licked his lips upon seeing your form on the mattress.

Wooyoung always waited to interact until you were too deep in your pleasure filled state of mind to actually realise there was something not human inside the room with you.

You had kicked the blanket away, knowing you’d feel way too hot with it. Your back arched already as you played with your nub underneath your panties. You had your eyes closed and kneaded your breast with your free hand above your shirt. 

Wooyoung watched you for a while, getting drunk on your soft moans and whimpers. You truly didn’t have to do much to get him painfully hard. He just had to wait a little longer to ask for your consent in a whisper.

Even though he did that, he usually didn’t reveal his name. Which meant Wooyoung wouldn’t hear you moan it. Tonight he felt mischievous though and might switch it up.

With his ability to change his physical form, Wooyoung transformed his left hand into several tentacles. He let them glide over your naked ankle, creating the first shivers running through your whole body. “I can help you”, Wooyoung whispered.

You gasped, hearing the ghost of a voice or maybe a mere fraction of your own mind playing with you. The voice was melodic yet teasing, followed by a low chuckle. How could your imagination create the perfect voice for your fantasies? 

“Do you want me to help you?” The voice brushed over your skin, making you writhe in excitement already. 

“Yes, please.”

Wooyoung chuckled again, letting the tentacles slither further up your leg and past your panties to get underneath your shirt. He grinned devilishly, relishing in your soft whimpers. 

You arched your back. The feeling of dozens of little suction cubs sucking along your skin from your chest had your toes curling and mouth dropping open.

“Do you want me to do more?”

The groan that came out of your throat felt foreign but right nonetheless. “Gosh, yes! I need more!”

Wooyoung sat down on the mattress next to you. “How about you’ll get rid of that shirt of yours, my sweet little human.” He silently watched how you hurriedly grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head.

You were about to grab your panties too, wanting to slide them off as well but something wrapped around your wrists and pinned your hands above your head. 

“Nah-ah-ah, sweet little human. I didn’t tell you to do that.” Wooyoung laughed quietly, his eyes shining with mirth. Especially when he heard your whining. Wooyoung held both your hands down on the mattress with his own hand and let the transformed one wander across your body.

He hooked the tentacles on the panties, pulling them slightly to tease you even more. He watched you squirm and wriggle your hips, desperately begging him to do more. Wooyoung let go of the panties and the elastic snapped back against your skin.

You softly yelped every time the elastic hit your skin, the pain combined with the pleasure filling your brain. The tingles spread through your body and pooled at your lower regions. You wanted to cum so badly.

Finally Wooyoung pulled the panties off, immediately rubbing along your folds as well. He bit down on his lower lip as he felt the slick covering his skin from where he touched your entrance. “You’re so needy, aren’t you? Do you want me inside of you? Do you want me to help you release the tension building inside of you?”

You moaned with every hushed word, agreeing with all of it and nodding desperately. “Please, need you! Need you inside!” You moved your legs further apart, being even more inviting.

Wooyoung pushed himself up, settling between your legs and grinning like a Cheshire cat. He eyed your form, wanting to hear his name from your lips. Without a second thought Wooyoung leaned down, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear. “If you want it that badly, beg for Wooyoung, my sweet little human.”

“Please, Wooyoung! Please, I need you! I need you inside of me!” By now you just followed what the whispers told you, not questioning a word as long as it meant you’d get to your release. Yet, you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid everything would vanish the moment you did.

Wooyoung groaned as he pushed inside of you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He inhaled deeply, feeding on the desire and pleasure you felt. 

You moaned and your fingers cramped up, unable to grab anything as they were still pinned above your head. “Wooyoung”, you whimpered, feeling a weight on top of you that moved along the thrusts into you. “Please.”

Wooyoung transformed the tentacles back into a hand, only elongating his nails like claws. He trailed them along your body, loving the way it created a pattern of red lines along your skin. He wanted you to see his work of art. “Open your eyes.”

Your breath caught inside your lungs and fear grabbed your heart.

“Be a good little human”, Wooyoung teased and stopped moving his hips all together. 

You wanted to be good, you wanted to be praised some more but your fear, it would all be gone in an instant when you opened your eyes, had you in a tight grip. Tight enough to momentarily forget the pleasure inside of you. 

“Don’t you want to cum? Open your eyes and I’ll make you cum.”

You inhaled shakily but nodded just as eager as all your responses before. At first your eyelids only fluttered a little, not opening your eyes that much. Your heartbeat sped up - even more so when you still felt something inside of you.

“Come one, little human”, Wooyoung chuckled, “I need more than that.” His grin widened even more. The fear mixed with your raging desire made him almost delirious. And he only wanted to increase all of that.

So when you opened your eyes, you only saw a glowing pair of eyes and a wide grin floating above your body. You gasped and blinked rapidly before your eyes jumped from one point to another - from the red lines on your skin to the glowing eyes to your spread legs and open folds to the grin and finally back to the eyes. “Wooyoung?”, you finally breathed out, watching how the grin got even wider than before.

“The one and only”, he chuckled before getting serious, his grin vanishing into thin air. “Do you still want to cum with my help?”

You swallowed harshly, your mouth had suddenly gone dry. All of this felt surreal and part of your mind told you to freak out but you stayed perfectly still. 

Wooyoung didn’t move either, his glowing eyes imploring yours and waiting for any kind of response from your side. He let go of your wrists and placed his hands next to your waist on the mattress.

He was about to pull out of you when you moved again. Your hand hit against his body as you simultaneously yelled out no. 

Wooyoung chuckled and shook his head, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder. “That’s where you wanted to go, right my sweet little human?”

“Yes”, you breathed out. You carefully moved your hand along his shoulder and down his arm, feeling his toned muscles. “I want to cum with you.”

The cheeky grin returned. “With me, huh?”

You felt the heat spreading through your whole body and wanted to cover yourself but Wooyoung grabbed your hands and held them in place again - one pressed on the mattress next to your head and the other on his shoulder. You couldn’t see how he was doing it, only feeling it.

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes. “Never hide from me, my sweet little human. I want to see all of you.” With that Wooyoung started to move his hips again.

You moved your fingers to the nape of his neck, carding them through his hair and grabbing on to the strands when his thrusts became harder and harder. You heard him hiss and felt his face press into the crook of your shoulder.

You arched your back, moaning heavily from the pleasure. “Please, oh please. Fuck, Wooyoung!”

“I could give you more. Do you want more?”

“Uh-huh.”

Wooyoung snickered: “Great choice, my little human.” 

You gasped when you felt the shift inside of you, felt how his dick expanded and changed texture, rubbing along your walls in a whole new way. “Fuck!” A word you started to chant over and over again, while the tension built up inside of you.

“That’s it, my sweet little human, that’s it. You’re doing so good for me! You can do it. Cum for me!”

You came with a scream tearing through your throat. Your vision turned completely white for a moment, dark specks showing up on the edge of your view. 

Once your vision returned you saw complete darkness - no cheeky grin, no glowing eyes. “Wooyoung?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you pushed yourself up, hoping to see him somewhere.

“Was it not enough?”

You heard his voice but struggled to pinpoint his location. Before you could ask though, you felt a hand cupping your cheek. 

“My sweet little human”, he purred, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, knowing farewell that his tone of voice meant goodbye. “Will you be back?”

He chuckled softly. “I’m your monster under the bed. I could be here every night for the rest of your life.” Wooyoung licked his lips, tasting the spike of your emotions. “So you like that idea, huh?” He moved his hand to the back of your neck and wrapped his fingers around there, pulling you closer until his lips brushed over yours. 

“I do”, you exhaled against his lips, unconsciously chasing the warmth.

“You’re such a good little human for me”, he grinned and closed the gap between you for the final kiss, even nipping at your lower lip in the process. “Until we meet again.”

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​ @songsoomin​ 

[alwachart]

On Raphael and fandom discourse

I grow tired of writing the same thing every now and then when this topic comes up yet again, so I’m going to write my thoughts on one post and be done with it for good.

Here are my thoughts on “Raphael is bad in bed” discourse: when people with zero reading comprehension try to pass their loud take as canon. This is an analysis on fandom claiming “it's canon” and why it actually isn't.

For the devil’s sake let’s do this orderly, I believe he’d like that.

So these are the lines you get when you bed Haarlep and ask about Raphael’s performance. From here you can continue the game without killing Haarlep (let’s imagine we do this first) and use this information to mock Raphael, which results in you getting this line of dialogue lather when he he says “It’ll only take a moment to finish you”

This is an “I have a single incel brain cell” type of joke that forces Tav/durge to interpret a laugh and a “no” like a 15 year old incel guy roaming 4chan would. People are using it to say Raphael is a “two pump chump”and I…don’t get it. Maybe I’m too old for this fandom, who knows, but the way I see it this sentence is rooted in a fragile masculinity view on the issue of “bad s*x”. As a pan woman who has relations with any gender, it never crossed my mind that he was quick to finish when I heard the laugh and no, it didn’t because that's not what bad s*x is about. Believing so comes from a penis-centric interpretation, as if a pp is something necessary for pleasure during s*x, which it isn't, and how long you can use it as a measure of it, which again it isn't. The only person who needs a pp to feel pleasure during intercourse is the person who owns one. All in all, a very puerile and obviously wrong take. 

Real bad s*x lacks pleasure, it's icky, painful even, it makes your skin crawl and your insides twist. Best case scenario it is just boring and you’ll never see them again. So no, I don't think Raphael is “a two pump chump”, and I can say this isn't canon because nowhere in the game the dialogue states that as truth. It's an immature joke that's pushed on the player dialogue and fans fall for it like flies on honey. This aggressive rhetoric from a sector of the fandom is the only thing that makes it feel canon and has people claiming it is, repeating the line “bad in bed, bottom two pump chump” as often as you hear “cycle of abuse, Caz 2.0” in another corner of the fandom we all know very well. All because players lack critical thinking, life experience, a s*xual life or are simply too plain to understand the nuances of language and syntax.

On to the next line, because we not only have fragile masculinity here but also, you guessed it, homophobia! Yay!

This is the one that makes people say he’s a bottom. Oh boy, do I have things to say about this. Let’s start with a bit of syntax work!

To be on top or beneath: 

Here no one is talking about being a top/bottom, but rather where two bodies are positioned in a plane that works by the law of universal gravitation. It discloses zero information about pp placement of either one

Below, never on top, never: 

Listen, this is actually a rather homophobic take!! People jump to call Raphael a bottom in milliseconds as if 1- it’s something bad he should be mocked for, which even if he was…it isn’t, and as if 2- Haarlep said he's a bottom instead of what he actually says: that Raphael is physically under him when they have fun, well, when Raphael has fun, you know what I mean!

That’s it folks, there’s no more to it, nothing more deep to read between the lines. There’s no more lines. Any take saying “Raphael is a bottom” simply comes from people lacking reading comprehension and having juvenile minds.

So, the answer questions everyone is making over and over, is Raphael bad in bed? Is he a bottom? The answer is: we don’t know, but what we do know is Haarlep doesn’t enjoy s*x with him, they always f*ck with Raphael being a lazy mf beneath him (can’t blame him, I’d let the incubus do all the work and take my form too, double pleasure? Fyeah). Him being a bottom is fanon. Nothing bad in picturing a fictional character like one if it brings you joy, but If you keep saying it’s canon over and over you’re only ridiculing yourself and exposing the views you have on the topics mentioned above (masculinity and homophobia) for the world to see.

Make yourself a favour and maybe go read some books, educate yourself and expand your vocabulary a bit. Also if you're inexperienced maybe ask a varied group of people what they consider to be “bad in bed” before using your imagination, the answers might surprise you! I promise you'll see the word in a different manner once you do!