#thankfully it's warmer now

[bywandandsword]

In Cult of the Lamb I've killed two Bishops so far and I'm loooooooooving it. After the first day when I literally did nothing else, I started making myself take breaks, just for general wellness and to make sure I become aware of the passage of time again. But also half the time I'm not playing I'm watching Demon Mama's play through for tips and tricks (Demon Mama is great in general y'all should check her out). So far it's been really validating honestly, I don't play video games much so in parts that I struggled, I thought it was just that I sucked, but turns out, the bats in the Darkwood are genuinely tricky and the claw weapons are the Worst

Also upon finding out that the Lamb is canonically nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns, they immediately moved to the top tier of my favorite characters list and I decided I got to be them for Halloween. So of course I've been looking into ways of making hoof shoes and I found a pattern on Ravelry that I'm going to use to knit their fleece, and I planned how I'm going to make the rest of the outfit as well, and ll the little details and props, and I don't even need a wig! I can just use white temporary color on my own hair!

Ugh, I'm just having so much fun!

[phoenix-drowning-ina-rainy-world]

Yeah, that describes the whole species, they're all dicks

Today's Seal Is: Vandalized

[yuyu-bi]

omg they discontinued the schitt's creek yarn im using for my temp blanket omg im sure i have more than enough lmao but that's still so sad :( i actually really like that yarn a lot too ugh

i should have known when they were doing a 6 for $12 sale on it...damn lmao

[reiderwriter]

I Won't Let You Forget

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When you wake up in a familiar yet unfamiliar bed with no memory of begging your long-time work crush to sleep with you, you have even less recollection of him actually agreeing. Small memories of pleasure haunt you as he tries to figure out why you're suddenly so distant.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!! Alcohol use (whole BAU team, and as a precursor to sex), implied smut, on page (?) smut, dom-ish!Spencer, male masturbation, marking, nipple play/torture, edging, penetrative sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, semi-public sex/ make out, creampie, reader is very into male moans. That should be it.

A/N: I forgot about this fic TWICE, but it's here!!! Posting again for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB challenge, and I feel like this one slightly misses the mark but it works anyway. Gif inspiration is at the end for anyone familiar with Business Proposal lol

Masterlist

Being an FBI Agent means you'd slept in - and woken up in - some sketchy places on jobs. A number or motel and hotel rooms across the backroads of America, planes, cars, and office desks. You could usually orient yourself pretty well upon waking, and remember how you'd gotten yourself there quickly.

There was something strange about that morning in particular, though. The bed was comfier and warmer than any motel you'd ever seen, and the fact that there was one meant no jet or desk. It was pitch black outside, though, so visually, you were out of luck. The sheets smelt fresh and familiar, and if weren't for a small warning bell in the back of your head, you'd have shut your eyes again and huddled against the large body pressed against your back.

‘Ah,’ you thought, inwardly cringing. ‘That would be it then.’

Slowly, you pulled what you assumed to be a man's arm from around your midsection, trying to extricate yourself quietly from the bed without any notice.

Whoever was asleep behind you, though, was a lot stronger than you had bargained for, and he quickly pulled you back into him.

Your back hit his chest as he nuzzled into your neck, and you heard his groan out a greeting before stilling and returning to the land of rest. If anything, for your troubles you just came to an understanding that whoever was behind you was just as naked as you were, and based on the way your body seemed over stretched, and well-rested, you had no doubt about the events leading upto your discovery.

You just had no memory of it either.

You wracked your brain, trying desperately to recall where you were, who you were with, and what you were going to do to get out. Unluckily for you, your brain was at about half capacity as his hands worked their way between your legs, even as he slept.

His hands were soft, his touch light on your skin, as if he were tracing words along a page. You twitched under him, stomach flipping as your hips bucked backwards, and your eyes dropped closed again.

You hadn't a clue who you'd climbed into bed with, you simply had the greatest regret that you'd likely never see him again, and would not remember what was likely a deeply, deeply satisfying night.

In abject mortification, you tried once more to free yourself from the very pleasurable prison you'd found yourself in.

Thankfully, his hands chose that moment to fall limp, and you took your chance, hopping up and searching the floor for at the very least your underwear before chancing a glance around you.

Like an arrow through the heart, you realised the room was familiar because you had slept here before. You'd slept over at Spencer's house many times, after work ran late and you needed a place to crash.

Never naked, though. Until now.

You pulled on your clothes as fast as you physically could and tried not to squeak out your disbelief. You almost wondered if you hit your head hard enough against the bookshelf, some braincells would knock together and produce the memory you'd been desperate to make for half a year.

You had finally succeeded in bedding Spencer Reid. And you didn't remember a moment of it.

It was grief that drove you out of his house at 5 am. on a Saturday morning, and definitely, absolutely no regret.

Stepping outside the dark building and being greeted by the first hints of a sunrise, one single, trifling memory slipped back into your brain.

“Something casual,” you giggled, every 's' sound slurring together with each letter touching them. “Something casual and naughty, and fun.”

You didn't remember his exact reply, but though a flicker of arousal ran through you at the memory of the deep rumble of his voice. He had been close, his mouth next to your ear.

You supposed now that his reply hardly mattered when you knew the outcome anyway. It'd been the man himself wrapped around you in bed that morning, his fingers grazing your skin, his cock hard against your ass, his dreams obviously clearer than your own memories.

“It's not like we have the time to see other people,” you'd said to him the night before, hand pushing up his thigh to signal your intent. “We can have some fun. Share a motel room now and then.”

Four sentences.

Four sentences were the extent of your memories, and each one of them had been said by you. Not even a single reply flittered through your brain anymore, a single reaction.

You'd have thought it all a dream but for the fact that you were hunched outside the main entrance to Spencer's building, sans pair of panties you couldn't locate, thanking the gods that your very expensive bra was still around and that you'd worn pants the night before.

To say that Spencer was similarly disorientated when he woke hours later was an understatement. Of course, with the caveat that he remembered every word, every breath, every touch and movement. Instead, he was surprised to find you gone, without a word.

You'd promised as much last night, though.

Casual sex. That's what you'd asked for, and what he'd spent the better half of an evening trying to talk you out of, first with words and then with actions.

It didn't take a night together with you for Spencer Reid to realise that what he wanted quickly bypassed casual. Even now, alone in bed with the memory of you, your scent buried deep in his sheets, the history of your lips branded into his skin, he felt an overwhelming longing.

His body protested against his interrupted plans. He'd hoped to wake you up much the same way he'd put you to sleep the night before, limbs tangled, his cock buried deep inside of you. Instead, he swung his legs out of bed and looked for any trace of you.

It didn't take him long to find your accidental gift. He'd been the one to remove them from you the night before, and he had a good grasp of what the room was supposed to look like, so spotting a pair of fire truck red panties tucked by the door wasn't hard.

It was less spotting them and more staring at them until he convinced his body to calm down, which in and of itself was like fighting a losing battle.

He'd woken up hard, which he didn't doubt was due to dreams of you. He tried his best to ignore it, but before he knew it, he was laid back down with your discarded panties in his hand, pressed up to his mouth and nose as he worked out his frustrations.

Usually, he tried to get himself off as quickly as possible. Time was a commodity, and he always had to be somewhere doing something. That morning, though, he gladly sat back and indulged.

His brain queued up the memories of the night before, playing them chronologically so he could enjoy the feeling of your lips on his, your legs gripping around him, your tongue flicking at the tip of his dick. When he finally came, it was with the disappointment that he hadn't gotten to the best bit yet, finally pushing inside of you.

But after a night of activity and a lonely morning, he let himself rest again and turned his mind to other objectives.

1. Get your panties back to you without being put in handcuffs for indecency.

2. Have enough casual sex with you that you realise you no longer want casual, but something more.

3. Change the bedsheets.

The following week at the BAU was - thankfully - a blur of cases, consultations, and computer files. You were swept off on another case by Sunday evening, back in two days and off again by Thursday morning. Before you knew it, an entire week had passed, and you hadn't had to discuss anything with anyone.

Every morning walking into the bullpen was like walking on shards of broken glass. Willingly.

You'd said less than four sentences to Spencer since you'd accidentally on purpose thrown yourself into his lap, and you found yourself suddenly lacking the vocabulary to actually bring it up.

Instead, you'd simply chosen to sigh after him as he did anything at all in the office, with a single thought in your head: ‘Did he keep the glasses on while we fucked?’

He'd been wearing them all week, and you always thought they made him look hotter than he already was. A little nerdy, but in a Superman way. You couldn't for the life of you get the memory to pop back into your head, though, despite prompting it with many out of pocket daydreams.

“What's got you all introspective?” Derek asked, striding up beside you in the office kitchenette.

“Nothing in particular, what makes you ask?”

“Well, Princess, you just poured salt in your coffee, and from memory, you don't take it that way, so maybe there's something going on with you.”

You cursed and emptied your cup quickly as the man laughed.

“Take it what way?” A voice called out from the doorway, and every hair on your body stood on high alert. There was something about Spencer saying ‘take it’ that should've been so casual, but sent shudders across your body as you heard the words whispered into your ear.

“Take it like a good girl, that's right. So good for me.”

Your cup almost went crashing to the floor as your ears pricked, but you refused to turn around for fear he'd read the truth on your face.

“Nothing kid,” Morgan said, chuckling as you rinsed your cup and kept rinsing it until you felt yourself cool down a bit.

“What's up with the glasses? You've been wearing them a lot this week.” Derek asked, and you cursed his sudden onset curiosity, knowing there was no way to dismiss yourself from the room without garnering an entirely new set of questions.

“I just ran out of contacts,” Spencer replied, but you heard the grin in his tone without even having to look at him.

“You should just throw out all of your contacts,” you'd said, as you nipped at his throat. “I swear I'd jump you every day if you looked at me like that down your glasses.”

You tried to remain composed as the memory of straddling him and grinding down against his hard member hit you like a freight train. You felt you managed it well until you looked down to see another ruined, salty coffee.

“If you ever want to fuck me, just, like, come in wearing the glasses. I'll know,” you'd moaned as his hands gripped your hips controlling your rhythm and pressing you harder into him. “Fuck, I’ll know.”

“I give up,” you mumbled and took off, avoiding all eye contact as you left the small space.

A small part of you had wished that Spencer had your memory of the night. The smallest, teeniest part of you that didn't want a do-over that was. Getting possible confirmation that he remembered everything you'd said while drunk on dick (and tequila) was a lot to take on at 2 pm. on a Friday.

As you walked away, you sent up a prayer to every deity you could think that the memories came back whole and intact, and quickly, and preferably while you were alone and not in company.

Because you wanted nothing more than to relive that brief bite of pleasure you'd been granted.

The weekend came and went fairly obstruction free, even if your dreams, waking and not, were filled with the image of Spencer's head tipped back as you raked your teeth and tongue over sensitive areas.

It took you all the way until Monday morning, when you'd returned to work and seen Spencer in the glasses once again, to remember the meaning of the words you'd thrown at him.

Spencer wanted to fuck you again. Still. Continuously?

The thought made you a little apprehensive - he already knew your body, from the sounds of it, he'd definitely been competent enough, and you was left stranded on the desert island of short term memory loss. He wanted to fuck him you again. Was there a reason? Was there something you did that he enjoyed? What were his boundaries? His kinks? What positions did he like?

Half your days now, it seemed, were filled with questions about sex with Spencer. So it wasn't a surprise you'd kept up your staring. You couldn't fault him for having his eyes trained on you more times than not as well.

You were so glad that your emotions on the subject were so tangled and crossed that no one else could read them there.

BAU 0-1 EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

It was lucky, though, that you were watching him near constantly and were the first to notice the flash of purple against his neck as he loosened his tie.

You stood with a startling bang, hitting your knee against the table as you sprinted over to his desk.

Leaning over him, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and, tugging him around so he was facing you, began buttoning it for him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, looking up at you and trying to play this off as a daily occurrence, to not alert the room full of human lie detectors to suspicious behaviour.

“What are you doing?”

“Your tie is loose. Strauss is always visiting these days. Let's not give her petty reasons to penalise us.”

He relaxed more into your touch and let you work, tilting his head so your hands could get where they needed to be.

“So you're being a good friend?” he asked, and despite the obvious bait, you answered.

“Yes.”

“Good friends help each other out.”

“We can still be friends, Spencer,” you'd begged as you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to get it off so you had more skin to taste. “Good friends who help each other out from time to time. Like this.”

“Your neck is still purple,” you whispered, changing the subject and moving on to his tie as you untied it and levelled it again, ready to twist back up.

“Is yours?”

“You can see my neck, it's fine.”

“That's not what I meant.”

You met his eyes finally, completing the last loop of the knot as you challenged him.

Or rather, challenged yourself to not drop your eyes to his lips.

“Say what you mean,” you glared, straightening his shoulders and brushing off non-existent dust as you attempted to slip away.

“The purple marks on you. I didn't leave them on your neck. Are they still… bright?”

You looked around you. Emily and Derek seemed to be giving you slightly weird looks, but both seemed trapped on business phone calls that wouldn't end anytime soon.

You'd noticed the marks straight away, of course, across the tops of your breasts and surrounding them, as if that area had been the coordinates for a targeted assault. Now, though, with his eyes burning a path down from your eyes to your chest as loudly as a person could ever look, you knew just how true that was.

“Spencer, fuck YES!” You had moaned the second your back hit the mattress of his bed. You'd been drinking together on his sofa, but were ecstatic to graduate to the bedroom and lose half your clothes in the process.

With greedy hands, he'd ripped away your bra, and immediately he'd latched on with his mouth, sucking, biting, licking, fondling. He bruised one spot with his mouth while his hand tortured a nipple, first ignoring it, circling it but not touching it directly, and then pulling it to the border of pain and pleasure before switching hand and mouth and repeating the process.

Back in the present, you looked down at Spencer in his seat, breathed deeply, and replied.

“You know as well as I do that you made them to last.”

“So we match, then?” he asked, and you gave a quick nod before escaping back to the relative sanity of your desk. His eyes didn't leave your chest though, and for the whole afternoon, you wondered if he'd invented a way to look so hard that you bruised further.

If you had to give one reason why you loved your job, you'd probably say because you spent your day solving riddles and puzzles and getting to the bottom of situations. You liked clear-cut explanations for things and couldn't stand the roundabout ways people in other professions had to talk to each other. You'd listen to Hotch walk laps around other lawyers in legalese enough times to know you were no fan of espionage or double talk.

So there was only one downside of the job, and that was having to be covert. If you'd wanted to spy, you'd have joined the CIA instead.

Your most recent case, unfortunately, had landed you doing exactly that. It had also landed you in a closet, chest to chest with Spencer Reid, as you listened into a conversation between two likely suspects.

In the first five minutes, you gained the important information you needed, and the next forty-five was a waiting game to see when they'd finally get out so you could escape.

If you'd been alone, you wouldn't have minded. But with Spencer's 6 foot something frame practically wrapped around your own, your spine was ramrod straight, your thoughts turning back to frustration as you urged your brain to give back the night of memories you'd lost.

Because if he felt this good just stood next to you, you would go crazy imagining how good he felt inside you.

The most you managed to squeak out, after nearly an hour wrapped around each other, though, was “Do you get a sense of Deja Vu here?”

It was the first time you'd turned your head to look at him, having been looking to the door the entire time. But your gaze returned to him, and even the shadows of the closet couldn't hide the obvious list dripping from his eyes as he covertly stared down your shirt. Your breasts had popped up a bit more with him squished up against you, and your hands were pinned to the wall beside your waist should you need to draw your gun quickly if found.

Your companion, instead, was in a world of his own, and you were suddenly grateful that he'd kept at least an inch of space between your hips, knowing that you, too, would be a goner if you had to stand against the hard line of his cock for this long.

“Hmm?” He whispered, still staring at the little speckles of faded yellow and purple that popped out of your suddenly too low shirt.

“Deja vu?” You asked again, slightly breathless and dizzy, a side effect of his lusty gaze.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a slow nod, his hands gripping your waist and pinning you more firmly to the wall as he debated giving into temptation. “We've definitely been here before.”

A snippet of a memory caught you unaware, and you gasped in response.

He pinned your hands above your head against the wall as you crashed your way into the bedroom, his fingers too impatient to undress you to start pleasuring you. Without a warning, he slipped a hand up your dress and down your panties, keeping you in place with one impossibly large hand as the other skilfully drew out moan after moan with soft caresses.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned against your lips, as your memory melted away to reality.

You were being edged by your goddamn frontal cortex, and you had absolutely had enough. As soon as the suspects left, you raced out of the closet as fast as your feet could carry you away from the torment.

A week of solid case work, avoiding Spencer and hitting your head against a brick wall in your spare time later, and you found yourself attending a hasty work celebration with the team.

A murderer had been caught job well done, or whatever excuse you needed to unwind after work over a few large pizzas.

“All I'm saying is, a deep dish every now and again would be appreciated. We're never that far from Chicago.”

“We're 613 miles away from Chicago.”

You laughed at the tired face Derek flashed the team before biting into his slice, your other coworkers similarly tucking into the late night meal.

You'd landed at 11pm, and starving, had come to your last resort.

“Is anyone else's pizza wet?” Emily asked, picking up her slice and letting it drip onto her cardboard plate.

You shrugged at the comment, just happy to finally be filling your stomach with something other than coffee for the first time in what felt like forever.

But there seemed to be no rest for the wicked, and you caught Spencer's eye as you tugged the cheese into your mouth.

“Mhmm. So wet.”

There was no reality in which you stopped yourself from choking on your food then, as he kept a quiet smile on his face as the others offered you drinks and tissues.

Perched next to him, you shot him a dirty look out of the corner of your eye and were about to turn back to your meal when he moved again.

Bringing a tissue to your lips, he wiped away the grease from the corners, quietly berating you as he cleaned you like a child.

“So messy. Don't choke on it next time.”

The double entendre didn't go unnoticed, as Derek piled on quickly, not noticing the unsettling mix of deep, bitter embarrassment and utter arousal warring on your features.

“Kid, you don't have to tell the woman to swallow. I'm sure she's perfectly capable.”

Each memory that hit you came with a wave of matching mortification, as you tried to keep every reaction to yourself.

But remembering the feeling of Spencer Reid's cum shooting across your face was something you'd much rather have experienced privately. You stayed trapped into much too intimate eye contact with him anyway as he kept tending to your small spills. He wiped away the drops of grease on your legs, gripping your thigh much tighter than you could ever have possibly needed.

Evidently, your coworkers had found some satisfaction with the pizza, as they all seemed to not notice the tension a simple touch had snapped between the two of you. Using their hunger as a shield, you quickly excused yourself from the table to clean yourself up.

The door to the bathroom was only a step away from the door to the alley, and you quickly let yourself out into the crisp night air. Not even two minutes later, Spencer was with you.

“Y/N?”

“Oh god, it's happening again. I can hear his voice!”

“Y/N, please, come back inside.”

“Sure, if you stop trying to eye fuck me in front of my boss!”

With the words finally out in the open between you, you stood still for a best or two, letting Spencer pick up the slack in the conversation.

“The… The others were talking about going to get some drinks,” he started carefully, afraid you'd spook at any moment. “After pizza?”

“Drinks?”

“Alcohol.”

You gave a short bitter laugh and brushed a hand through your hair as you turned your face away from him.

“I seem to make a lot of mistakes when I'm drunk.”

“Mistakes?” He said. The word was so quietly hurt that you instantly winced, realising your mistake.

“No. No. That's not how I meant it, Spencer, I just…” you grabbed your hair in frustration again, trying desperately to find the words to explain the gaping void where pleasing memories should've been.

“Everyone… everyone is still inside, right? No chance of a surprise visit from anyone.”

“They're debating Hawaiian pizza, I think we have time. Why?”

Another minute passed as you thought through your next actions, leg shaking as you processed every possible emotion.

Lunging toward him, you grabbed a hold of his shirt and pressed up to meet him in a kiss. Responding quickly, his hands gladly claimed a hold of your body as he walked you back against the wall, his mouth furiously engaged with your own in a battle of lust.

“I don't-” you gasped between kisses, unable to get more than a word in as his tongue works his way into your mouth. He pulled away eventually, but only to distract you further with a wandering tongue exploring the plains of skin already on show. Neck, lips, cheeks, collar, nothing is safe from the hear of his tongue tracing up and down the length of you..

“Don't what?” He said, finally finding the willpower to pull back for more than a millisecond.

“I don't remember. Any of it, I can't remember. God, I'm so stupid. Why don't I remember?”

For a second, his tongue kept up its journey, and you moaned as he nipped at the edge of your ear. That was until your words hit his ears and his hands flew up faster than you could've ever pushed them off.

“What?”

“I don't-” panic surged in your voice as you felt it tremble and shake, gulping it down to continue.

“I don't remember anything. And I woke up in your bed, and it felt so good and nice, but I couldn't remember it until you started doing things, and then I remembered… small parts?"

He raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath as you continued, desperate to get every word out as fast as possible.

“I-I-I, shit Spencer, I woke up feeling so good, and then I saw you there, and I couldn't remember a thing. Do you know how long I was waiting for something to happen? I couldn't even remember one stupid fucking kiss, let alone anything else we did-”

“You seriously don't remember anything.”

“That's what I've been saying.”

He nodded and let out a shaky breath as you stepped closer to him, desperate to explain your predicament.

“You don't… you didn't just regret It and decide to leave?”

“I can't regret something I don't remember.”

Worrying his lip, he looked away for a minute and looked back, and you found yourself creeping closer again until his hands were gripping your hips again as he looked back to you.

“If you could remember, would you regret it?”

In a heartbeat, you had your answer.

“No.”

His lips crashed into yours again, and you gladly moaned into this one. With one hand buried in curls and the other pulling him closer by his loose tie, your hands stayed fastened to his body, clutching him like there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

His hands followed suit, falling down to your thighs as he spread your legs further apart, holding you against the wall and lifting you just slightly, angling your hips together in a way that numbed your senses.

Everywhere you touched left you craving further exploration, to be closer to him, and you whined in his mouth as if to let him know what you so dearly craved.

He listened and gave in, his fingers pushing to the centre of you, mere centimetres away from where you wanted him.

It was as if God was laughing down at your struggle, though, as just as he was about to make contact, a shout of your names rang out around the corner. Just as Penelope rounded into the alleyway, you shoved Spencer away, accidentally flinging him to the ground as you desperately righted yourself again.

“There you two are. What are you doing out here?”

“Earring,” you gasped, praying it was just dark enough for Penelope to not notice that your lipstick and Spencer's lipstick were the same shade.

“I dropped an earring, and Spencer is helping me look for it.”

Slightly confused, Spencer quickly went along with your lie, patting the ground where he'd fallen to look for the imaginary jewellery.

“Okay. Well, we're hopping over to the bar next door, and no! This is not optional, Emily already ordered the first round.”

Without another word or explanation, or anything to really help you figure out what was going on with you and Spencer, the two of you awkwardly followed Penelope into the bar and to your seats.

You stuffed yourself into the seat beside Penelope, and were not at all upset when Spencer climbed into the booth right beside you, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you knees bumping every now and then from the movements.

And just like that, you found yourself drinking for another two hours, unable to process any of the emotions you'd been through in the alley.

Elation. Desperation. Sadness. Arousal. All stuck in your tiny, tiny brain as you tried still to remember any small detail you could about your last encounter.

Your look of concentration didn't go unnoticed.

“Y/N, what's with the pensive look?” Derek shot at you across the table as he finished the last dregs of his beer. “Is it perhaps the melancholy of singleness?”

“That's not a word,” Spencer mumbled into his own drink.

When Penelope joined in, you knew you'd been backed into a corner.

“Are you not seeing someone?” She asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“There was that guy you mentioned last week, right?” The sound of betrayal came directly from the other side of you, and your head whipped from Penelope to Spencer so fast, you were sure you'd be feeling it in the morning.

“What? What guy, Y/N? You never mentioned a guy to me! Spencer knows, but I don't know. How is that fair?”

“No, Penelope, he's-”

“Spencer, what do you know? What's this guys name? What does he look like? What does he do for a living? When you say she mentioned him last week, was it a mention mention, or just a mention?”

“Penelope, slow down.”

“Well-”

“Spencer! Do NOT answer her.”

“You don't want me to tell her about the guy you wanted something casual with. You said you were around him a lot, so you might as well try it at some point.”

Your face burnt in shame as you narrowed your eyes at him. Had you really said that? Had that honestly been your opener for hitting on the man you'd wanted for the longest time?

“Mhmm, really? And what else did I say?”

“I don't think you'll want me to say-”

“No, please, jog my memory.”

“You said, and I quote, that he had a ‘very rideable face.’ You followed up with, ‘it would look very pretty buried between your legs.’”

The chorus of laughter that rang out only set you more on edge after the flush of memories that hit you once more. He had looked very pretty sat between your legs licking your cunt, lapping up your cum as your legs shook and you fucked yourself against his face. He had simply pressed a hand to your stomach, held you still and kept up the good work. His eyes sparkled with passion and his lips glistened with cum. It was quite the picture, now that you remembered it.

You were just annoyedeniugh, so you had to shoot back a retort. You were just too slow to realise “yes, well, I can recall that I was, in fact correct,” wasn't the right retort.

Another half hour of questioning later, and you'd finally been allowed passage out of the bar, into a taxi, and back to your apartment, alone but for the shame.

Spencer, perpetually sober-ish, had been put on designated driver duty to get others home, and it wasn't as if you could protest.

You threw yourself down onto your bed as soon as you got into your apartment and stayed there until you were about to fall asleep. A knock at your door pulled you back into the world of the woken, and you dragged yourself to the door.

You weren't surprised to see Spencer back at your side an hour after you'd left him. You knew it was a possibility, though you thought you'd be waiting another 12 hours or so.

It took less than 12 seconds for his searching eyes to find whatever silent consent he was looking for before he stretched out and claimed you. He softly cradled you as his lips met you, his gentle touch delicate where his soft lips were hard and insistent. He closed the door. He pushed you back a step at a time until you were out of the doorway. Pausing, he pulled away and took off his glasses, putting them down on the side table, before cupping your cheek and stealing your breath. Again.

You moaned into his kiss, and he slipped his hand down to your neck, gently squeezing as he moved you back towards the bed.

“Spencer…” you begged wordlessly.

“Remember now?”

“N-No.”

He nodded and continued, his other hand loosening his tie once more, as you clung to him like glue, hands not daring to move from the holds you had on his shirt, afraid you'd trip and lose sight of him all over again.

You reached the bed, and he sat you down, tearing his lips away at last, but still choosing to keep hold of your neck, standing above you.

“Are you sober?” He asked, as though he hadn't watched you drink only virgin cocktails all night. You shook your head, yes.

“Good.”

“Are you going to fuck me?” You blurted out, unable to help yourself, even without the liquid courage.

“You wanted the experience, right? And then you forgot all about it, so it's only polite…” His hands began massaging your neck, shoulders, pushing down into your shirt to get the top of your chest, too.

“I don't want the experience,” you said quickly. “Not- not a casual experience, Spencer, I want… I want…” His hands distracted you as your shirt stretched to allow his hands to grope your breasts. He slipped into your bra and began his assault of your chest, still looming above you as he listened to your explanation.

“I… don't want a casual thing, Spencer, I want- I want…” you moaned as he pinched your nipple hard, seething as you attempted to not shout out.

“What do you want, Y/N? Be specific.”

“I want you!” You moaned, chest pushing into his touch, trying to avoid the mixture of pain and pleasure pulsing through you with each flick of his finger.

“For how long?” He asked, and your brain short circuited as you whined and pouted up at him, his fingers still tugging at your nipples, still kneading your skin, and pretending his touch was nothing.

“D-don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't make me give this an expiration date.”

Spencer's eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself on your back swiftly after, his lips pressed to yours as he held himself over you. Instead of assaulting your chest again, he was slower, more delicate as he gently removed your shirt, encouraging you to move further up the bed as he planted himself firmly between your two legs.

Everywhere he kissed and licked and sucked was a distraction from his attempts to uncloth you, to make you forget that he was still fully dressed and you were about to be laid out plain as day before him.

You covered your chest when he stole your bra, but you couldn't push your thighs together quick enough when he got your panties, and his hand slipped between your folds before you could even catch a breath.

“Good girl,” he whispered, as his fingers found your clit, dipping into your wet spot before tracing along your bundle of nerves and rocking his fingers back and forth, eyes always on yours.

He dropped his forehead to yours and watched silently as your mouth widened to an ‘O’ as you grew wetter, more desperate, more aroused, until you hit your peak and came apart on his fingertips. He hadn't even put a finger inside you, and your whole body was awash with satisfaction.

Another kiss stolen ended all thoughts of contentment as he slid in a finger into you while slipping his tongue back into your mouth.

If his fingers on your clit had been gentle, probing, curious about your release, the fingers stretching you out were the opposite. He knew your limits, had taken pleasure in your pleasure and now he was testing it, seeing how far he could push you until you did everything once again.

His free hand reached up to your face, and before you knew it, two fingers had been inserted into your mouth. You sucked instinctively, desperate to please him as your hips jumped upwards, trying to ride his hand. But every time you so much as moved, he withdrew slightly, pulling that pleasure you so desperately sought from your grasp.

“Spencer- please-” you said as he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“I'm not going faster. I want you to remember every second, I want this to last as long as possible, okay? Can you do that?”

You pouted as he stroked your cheek with his wet fingers, gathering the spit from your chin before pushing it right back into your mouth. You kept sucking.

Every time he felt you tighten around him, his fingers withdrew, or they stilled, or he moved in a slightly different way, and you were set adrift again on the tide of arousal. He edged you for what felt like days to your pleasure addled mind, and you kept up your task, too.

“Good girl. No more cumming. Not yet.”

Finally, he withdrew his fingers, your legs shaking from the tension of holding off your pleasure.

He stood and removed his shirt, unbuttoning his pants just enough to free his swollen cock, but not removing it entirely.

The sight of him almost made you weep in relief, so sure that now you were going to be able to cum, that he'd enter you and your get to release around his cock, to suck him in deeper.

Instead, he got on his knees in front of you and gave another sharp order.

“No cumming, remember Princess.” Without waiting for a response, his tongue dragged across your folds, before reaching your clit. His lips wrapped around your nub and your whole body reacted, convulsing inwards as you shouted your pleasure.

“Spencer! Spencer, no, please - please!!” You clawed at the bed as you fucked his face, hips pleading with his tongue to finish the job he'd begun an age ago with his scant fingers.

You desperately wanted your release, but he was equally desperate to frustrate you, pinning your hips and pulling back to just spit on your cunt when your thrusts became erratic, close to the edge.

He touched everywhere except the part where you needed him, content for a moment to listen to the moans turn to tears, turn to anger and frustration and longing as you clawed a hand in his hair and humped his tongue like a beast.

Finally, you came, more than happy to use his tongue like the pillow you'd stuffed between your legs in your horny adolescence.

He wasted no more time entering you, rigid and hot, and more than welcomed by your aching cunt.

He pushed in inch by inch, and the eternity that passed before that point was nothing in comparison to the millenia caught between one breath and the next, between him readying himself, and him thrusting into you in his entirety.

He filled you perfectly, as if you were born to let him take you, to despoil your cunt again and again, until the scent of him never left you.

He moved, pushing your knees up as you welcomed somehow more of him, as he hunched over you and began.

It was animalistic, and noisy, and messy, and fuck, was it hot. The bedsheets were wet already from your water show foreplay session, but with his cock locked inside of you, you couldn't hold back, and you came with a spurt.

You screamed, not expecting your pleasure to squirt out of you, as he fucked you harder, your breaths mingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt being used again and again and again.

“Spencer, fuck, I'm-”

“You're what? Use your words.”

“I'm… safe, just- Fuck, just fill me up.”

He groaned into your ear as he made his thrusts more and more shallow, slowing down just enough to pull back from you and let you watch him claim you again and again.

He swiped his hair out of his face, biting his lip as his hips rolled into yours, and you swear if you had it left in you, you'd have came on his cock once more watching him do that.

You committed to memory every line of his body, every bruise, every scratch, every line, every hair, everywhere a bullet had nicked him, everywhere on his body that held pain, every gesture on his body that was registering pleasure. You cared less for your own now and more for his as you bucked up into him, meeting him silently as he sucked in a deep breath.

You watched him forget himself inside of you as he tipped his head back in pleasure and, with a small moan, emptied himself inside of you.

His breath crashed back into his body, and you felt every heartbeat resonate through him and into you.

“If you forget this again,” he panted, wrapping his arms around you again. “I'm not waiting another 20 days for a reminder.”

You smiled as his hair tickled Your neck, nuzzling into his neck as you enjoyed his warmth. You tried your best to memorise his scent, too.

“Wake me up bright and early, then,” you smiled, letting your brain settle as you replayed the day back in your head over and over again.

XXX

The inspo:

(Kim Mingue one fucking chance... one chance Kim Mingue...)

[illogicalvulcans]

why can't i just find a few pics that show both the cut AND color i want at my next hair appt i feel dumb when i msg my stylist like "OKAY so ignore the color on this one but i like this cut i know they're naturally WAY blonder than me i like the shape and ignore the cut on this one i know they've grown their hair out to 5238763478 inches but i love this tone" like i just wanna show one picture and be like "i like this can we do a version of it that suits my face thanks"

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

[pathologicalreid]

first snow | s.r.

in which you and Spencer experience the first snow in your new apartment together

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff. the kind that rots your teeth. content warnings: snow? ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ word count: 954 a/n: so! not margovember! but i've been saving this one for a special occasion (my first snow came!!!!!) and i hope you enjoy it!!!!

“Why are we doing this now?” You asked, cocking your head at your boyfriend after you finished hauling a stack of books off of the shelves.

He was sitting on the floor, dozens of stacks of books surrounding him, so each step you took was precarious. Spencer’s self-appointed job was to sort through the books, but you weren’t getting rid of any of them. No. He’d decided to reorganize them, influenced by an influx of new language books, according to the Dewey decimal system—a phrase you hadn’t heard since grade school.

You hoisted another stack of books from the shelves, thankfully built into the walls, and set them on the ground. “We can never move out of this apartment,” you told him, flipping through an early edition Proust, likely from his mom’s collection.

That got his attention, “Why not?” His legs were crisscrossed beneath him, his hair freshly washed, and glasses perched on his face. Spencer’s flannel pajama pants were likely warmer than your cotton ones, but you felt as though your hoodie had an advantage over his crewneck.

Gesturing your hands out to the piles of books, you raised your eyebrows, “We’d have to move all of the books again.” The two of you had moved into the apartment near the beginning of the summer, right before Spencer started his training at the Academy, and the heat had ended up being more than you bargained for.

Spencer smiled fondly at you, “I like this apartment,” he reminded you, turning his attention back to his philosophy books, “It suits us.”

Looking around, you had also fallen in love with the apartment rather quickly, and you didn’t have much room to complain, knowing that Spencer had sacrificed having a short commute so you could be close to work. The two of you moved in together after you finished school in Pasadena, and he wrapped up classes at MIT, closing the distance and starting the rest of your lives together.

The two of you repainted together, abandoning the miserable taupe that had been on the walls in favor of a dark green; you worked together to make it home, even if you were here more often than him.

Stepping over a teetering pile of novels, you held your arms out for balance as you tried to get to the kitchen, yelping when your foot caught on a book, sending you falling to the ground. You groaned as the corner of a book dug into your side; the blow softened by the cotton of your sweatshirt as you rolled off of the collapsed stack.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked as you rolled over to a safe area. His hand settled on your side, stopping you from rolling onto your back.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded, “Yeah.” You frowned at the books that were left in your wake, “Oh, Spence. Your books,” you sighed, sticking out your bottom lip sadly.

He shook his head, “They’re just books, lovely.” Despite his reassurance, you caught his brown eyes flickering over the fallen novels. At a glance, it didn’t seem like any damage was incurred, but Spencer held his books to a very high standard. You knew he’d be checking them over as soon as you turned your head.

Sitting all the way up, you giggled softly at the way his concern split between you and the books; you thought about pressing your lips to his, but something moving outside the window caught your eye instead.

You squinted out the window, trying to ascertain what was going on, when your mouth gaped in surprise, “Spencer!” You scrambled to your feet, trying to drag your boyfriend to his, “Come on!”

His brows pinched in confusion. He looked around the living room, trying to find what had gotten you so excited, but you were already shoving your fuzzy sock-covered feet into your sneakers. Spencer had no choice but to follow.

Not even minding that you’d folded over the heels of your shoes, you were shuffling down the stairs and making your way to the street. Spencer lagged behind you, and you had already thrown your arms out in excitement by the time he made it outside. “It’s snowing,” You said giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet and spinning on the pavement.

Spencer grabbed one of your hands, stopping you from moving while he draped your jacket over your shoulders, having been too driven to get to the snowflakes to think about staying warm. His eyes were filled with love, leaving no room for judgment.

Sticking your tongue in an attempt to catch a snowflake, you didn’t even care that you were acting like a child. You’d never lived anywhere that got real snow like this before, “Oh, I love snow.”

“Your scarf is in tatters,” Spencer observed, holding the threadbare fabric at arm’s length.

You shrugged, breathing in and letting the cold air nip at your nose, “I haven’t had any use for it. It’s been in storage for ages,” you reminded him, closing your eyes and basking in the snow.

Instead of placing the hole-ridden scarf around your neck, Spencer loops his purple one over your shoulders. “I’ll have to knit you a new one. They’re predicting above-average snowfall this winter.”

Beaming at Spencer, you held out your hand for him to take, and he pulled you closer to him so your back was flush with his chest, the two of you watching the flurries as the lamplight refracted off the tiny ice crystals. “Happy first snow, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning your head back on his shoulder so the two of you could share a kiss.

He hummed affectionately, “Happy first snow, my love.”

[wtfsteveharrington]

"an exploratory kiss, testing the waters between them" with Luca please!

a/n: i love luca so so bad i fear s3 has giving me horrific brain rot for him baby boy i’m knocking on ur door and getting on one knee

contents: kissing, some pda, cluelessness, all my faves

"I mean... I think we're just friends, right?"

Luca takes a long swig from his cold beer pint. Using the drink as an excuse to buy himself time to think. It was some draft IPA that was just the perfect level of pretentious where he didn’t look like a dick but separated himself from some domestic bottle. Something that would matter to no one except a man with his level of perception anxiety. Condensation dripping down his wrist which your eyes follow, trailing the drops as they roll down his forearm.

"Right. And would it be worth risking things between us to test out... Something more? Because I don't want to lose you just to find out we’re being a touch crazy.”

"I don't want to lose you either." You rush out after his sentence, shaking your head while resting your hands on your knees. The rough material of your jeans against your palms helping to keep you grounded.

It had been a half an hour since you and Luca passed some wonderful older woman on the street who needed directions. Luca was able to relay them by heart, though it didn’t stop you from double checking on your phone to ensure you didn’t send her off on a misguided path. She beamed at the two of you once she knew her way, patting Luca’s arm and asking the question that has broken the two of you ever since. “How long have you two been married?”

To which the two of you sputtered out a mess of words, none of which made any sense, and the older woman gave a tsk tsk tsk. “You better propose before it’s too late. Shouldn’t let such a catch get away.” The takes off on her journey. Both of you stood their with your jaws dropped before you finally started continuing on your path to the bar and trying to laugh it off.

But neither of you could let it go.

“We could-…“ You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back and strengthening your resolve, “We could kiss? That way we can feel there’s nothing there and get it out of minds.”

Luca stares down at his beer, eyeing the way the foam is slowly dissipating and contemplating his options. “Just one kiss?”

You nod, “Just one. Lips only, no tongue, nothing crazy.”

His body’s turning to you, eyes filled with apprehension. Searching your face for any sign of doubt, which he doesn’t find, before nodding back to you. “Just one. We’re realize how silly this is and put it behind us.”

Luca’s hand comes to rest on top of yours, the bar suddenly feeling so much warmer and intimate than before. Thankfully no one was paying attention to your little table tucked away in the back corner. He’s watching your breathing, watching your expression. Catches your tongue dart out to moisten your lips and he does the same.

He’s close enough now where you can feel the warmth rolling off his body, you can hear each steady breath he takes. “Just… Stop me if this is weird, yeah?”

You nod, leaning in as well until your noses brush against each other and your eyes fall closed before your lips connect against his. They’re slightly cold from his drink, hints of beer still on his lips. You stay connected for just a moment before you pull away, eyeing him apprehensively.

“How was that?”

He sucks in some air, staying close to you still. “It was, uhm, chaste. To say the least.”

There’s a flush on your cheeks at that.

“Well… I mean, We can do a real kiss if you want.”

Luca’s eyes are on yours, his hand moving to slide up your thigh and grabs ahold of it. “We should just make sure, y’know? Because that told me nothing.”

It’s a flawed plan but you’re not thinking as clearly with him this close.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you bring the two of you closer once again. Your lips finding his and you let out a soft moan as you feel his part under yours. He takes the chance to let his tongue slide against your bottom lip before slipping between your lips and into your mouth. You lace one of your hands in his hair while his free arm wraps around your waist now.

It’s his turn to groan into the kiss. The sound causes you to press your thighs together while your tongue moves along his. Your breathing is picking up and you’re convinced he can hear just how hard your heart is beating.

He tastes sweet. The IPA mixed with vanilla from the custard he kept having to taste during service. It was addicting to say the least.

Minutes, hours, days pass by as you lose yourself in him. Eventually you hear him groan, pulling back slightly to press another kiss to your bottom lip before leaning back in his chair. Beaming at your shocked expression.

Your hand comes up, fingers resting against your lips as you chase the feeling of the kiss. Oh.

Luca has to adjust himself on the seat, chuckling at the sight of you as he tries to relax his breathing. “She, uh, she might have known what she was talking about.”

Luca looks smug, even with his blushing cheeks, as he takes another drink of his beer. His hand never leaving your thigh.

[absfawn]

ㅤ ㅤㅤ❝ 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? ❞  

abby remembers the second the light in your eyes left. it was like yesterday. she remembers the night you showed up at her house, completely drenched, from head to toe in the rain, looking at her with the tears streaming down your face. even covered in rain, she could tell just how much you had been crying. she remembers how your hands shook as she helped you undress for a warm shower, and how you could barely hold the washcloth because of how cold your body felt. at first, she wasn’t sure why. why you cried your heart out the second she let you inside, how you clung to her body like she would disappear if she didn’t hold you tight enough. every piece of her broke each time you would grip her shirt in your fist, knuckles turning white, whenever she tried to pull you away just to get you in the shower, to warm you up, but you never budged. you didn’t want to let her go. ever. 

she was quick, like she always is when it came to you, when you slumped onto the shower floor and held your knees against your chest, sniffling and whimpering into your arms. she didn’t care about her dry clothes getting wet, all she cared about was you and making sure you were okay. the stream of water covers her as she wraps her arms around your body and pulls you into her chest, whispering and reassuring you that you were okay. it wasn’t until you opened your mouth and uttered a soft, “we argued about you” that her body tensed, and her eyebrows furrowed at your words. 

“me? why me?”

“why not? you’re perfect” you laughed, but it wasn’t your usual laugh she adored hearing, was used to hearing. it sounded so broken that all she could do was hold you tighter. “m’not sure, i think it makes her angry that i always come to you when m’sad, or when something is getting too much for me to handle and i never go to her. m’scared that i only trust you, and i can’t trust anyone else with my emotions,” you sucked in a deep breath and sniffled. “m’scared of my feelings, the ones i thought i had for her, the ones i have had for you for years and i hate that i keep putting all of this on you” you rambled, not fully understanding you had just admitted one of your confessions to your best friend.

abby was momentarily happy for this moment of confession because she’s been in love with you from the start, but she was also terrified. scared because right now you were too heartbroken and too hurt for her to drop the i love you bomb right onto you. “m’here for you, no matter what the problem is, you know that” she mumbled against your head. “you can bring your things to me, and i will try my best to help you through them, like i’ve always promised you.” even if it killed her to hold back her own feelings towards you.

“s’not fair on you” you couldn’t help but huff and roll your eyes at her. “m’always doing it. it just ruins everything”

“you need to stop thinking you know what’s not fair on me, and what is. that’s my decision, i won’t let you make that for me. m’here for you, no matter what is going on in your life, and in your pretty head, okay?” abby rubbed your back and placed a tender kiss on your temple when you nodded wordlessly. “now, how about we get out of the shower, i’ll find you something to wear, watch one of those shitty movies you love so much and eat ice cream?”

“i’d like that.” 

abby was gentle and patient, like she always is, when she helped you dry off after she managed to get you from the bathroom to her bedroom, clothes already on the bed waiting as you fumbled with your fingers nervously. none of you had to say anything, her actions of getting you comfortable and warm were enough to express how much she cares about you.

she doesn’t rush you to get changed into something warmer, drier even, nor does she rush you to get comfortable in her bed as she makes her way into the kitchen just to find the ice cream you both always used to eat if you had a shitty day. thankfully though, by the time she makes it back to her bedroom, her pride and joy, her safe place, she finds you snuggled up under the blankets and already scrolling through endless movies that you aren’t sure if you really want to watch. 

“did you pick one?” abby mumbled, placing her bowl of ice cream on her nightstand while passing you the other and chuckling under her breath at your soft gasp from the coldness of the fine china. “careful, it’s cold”

“funny,” you grumbled playfully and snuggled more into her bed. oblivious to her soft eyes watching you. “but thank you, and no, i haven’t picked one. they all look boring.”

abby doesn’t reply, just makes herself comfortable on the other side of you on her bed, your body on instinct snuggled more up to her side and slumped your head on her shoulder as you scooped up ice cream and shoved it in your mouth with subtle sniffles. “you feel better?” she couldn’t help but ask into your hair. 

“a little, thank you for being here” you sighed and rubbed your eyes with your free hand. “s’not what someone’s night should be like, always having to fix me and put me back together again, but thank you.”

pressing her lips to your temple, abby doesn’t feel the way you sag more into her body, nor does she feel the heat rising in your cheeks at such a simple action. she’s forgotten all about her ice cream, as you eat yours and keep your eyes locked on the tv, still undecided on which move you’re going to watch. “hey,” abby whispered. 

“hm?”

“i love you,” the meaning to abby was deeper than you’d ever know, but she wasn’t going to place something else on you while you were already dealing with a broken heart. so instead, she wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your head again. her thumb brushing against the skin on your hip that had you sinking more and more into her with each touch. “which means m’always going to be here for you. during the good and bad. i will do my best to help and guide you through the bad days, but there for you, supporting you through the good ones too. i just want you to be happy, and i will make sure i can help you get there. always. i love you.”

because loving you is the easiest thing she’ll ever have to do.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Healing Touches

paring: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

Summary: You wake up and can tell that Toby is sick. He’s infuriatingly stubborn about it.

contains: fluff, sickfic, kissing, cuddling, sick toby, sassy toby

warnings: first fanfic i've ever posted (i apologize in advance), inaccurate portrayal of cipa if that's super important to you (he sweats), mention of making out, swear words, insults used affectionately

word count: 1k+

masterlist

a.n: finally decided to suck it up and post something. i was gonna post a stalker-y riddler fanfic first (i say "stalker-y" and he's literally watching you through your webcam LOL), but i'm just gonna do a fluffy one.

You stir from your slumber and your ears pick up on the deep exhale from the body holding you tightly from behind. You're warmer than how you usually wake up next to Toby. And sweatier. You stretch your back a bit to try and wiggle out of your hunched over position and feel as your shirt sticks to you stubbornly. Gross.

Pulling your outstretched hand from its laid-out position front of you, you use it to shield your eyes as you open them. It’s dark, of course, thanks to the black-out curtains, but it’s a habit you can’t put down. You blinked once, then again and try to wake yourself up enough to care what time it was. Why’d you wake up, anyway? And why were you sweating, most importantly. The scratchy clearing of your still-sleeping boyfriend’s throat seemed to make you suspicious.

You remove the hand pressed to your brow and rest it on top the forearm that tightly encircles your waist. The skin is warm and just a little clammy. Now, you’re no doctor, but you’re 50 percent sure Toby might be sick. You feel his body softly rumble as he lets out a phlegmy, wet cough. Maybe you were 90 percent sure. You rub his arm absentmindedly before grabbing a fistful of the blanket over your bodies. You toss it aside in hopes for cold air to cool both of your bodies. He doesn’t stir, thankfully, since he can’t feel the temperature change.

You rack your brain and try to think of any earlier hints of this sudden ailment until your thoughts stray to other topics. You didn’t even notice that you’d been staring, unblinking, at the wall in front of you until a groan broke the comfortable silence. You feel Toby’s lips against your shoulder blade in a lazy attempt at a kiss.

“Good-good morning,” he mumbles, and you return the sentiment. You wait a few seconds before you make your accusation, already anticipating the reaction.

You shift to your other side to face him, and he grunts in protest. Both of you settle into your new positions. He drapes an arm over your waist again, urging you to come closer. You only nudge his leg with yours since you’re not particularly fond of getting anymore of his sweat on you at the moment.

“How’d you get sick, Tobes?” You ask, half-sweetly, half-accusatory. “You’re always in layers.”

“M’not suh-sick,” he insists, his brows furrowing, and the muscle twitches ever so slightly.

“No?” You push back the hair that sticks to his forehead and press your lips onto his skin. Just to check the temperature, of course. And, Jesus, it was scorching. You could smell the slight tanginess of the sweat on his scalp.

“I don’t-don’t get sssssick.”

“You’re way hotter than usual.”

He snickers at that, “Thanks.”

You should’ve seen that coming, you sigh and suppress an eyeroll.

“I meant that you have a fever, dumbass,” you give him a deadpan expression, though his eyes stay closed.

“Nnnah,” he brushes you off and you can see his jaw clenching involuntarily when he shuts his mouth.

“You’re sick.”

“You’re suh-sick.”

“I might be. Cuz of you.”

Toby’s eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes, his wide brown ones meet yours. He purses his lips, as if trying to gauge if he really was sick or not. Before he can say some other smartass comment, you lean forward to plant a kiss on his jaw. Your body aches in protest, but you raise yourself using your arm and trail more kisses up the side of his face. He exhales contently through his nose and smiles at your sudden affection. He hums in satisfaction when you finally decide to peck at his lips repeatedly. He closes his eyes and pushes his lips out into a pout as the kisses get slower and longer.

Settling back to rest your head against your pillow, your eyes flick over Toby, and you assess his state. His nose and cheeks are pinker than usual, and you can tell how flushed he is despite the dim lighting.

“D’you want me to get you water? Or make you some soup?” You offer and he opens his eyes only to roll them at you.

“I like you-like you here,” he says stubbornly.

“We can keep cuddling,” you chuckle and press the backs of your fingers against his heated cheek. “But I’m getting you some medicine later.”

“S’fine, I can’t ffffeel any...thing.”

“I don’t care, you could have the plague.”

“You’re dramatic,” he shot back, a sassy lilt in his voice.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically. “Please?”

“Can we not-not just cuh-cuddle?” He uses the same tone you did. “I can’t fuh-feel being sick, so-so it doesn’t m-matter.”

“Toby,” you say dryly before repeating yourself and drawing out the syllables, “Toby.”

“O-kay, okay, Jesus.”

“Good,” you smile and scoot just a little closer to him. He gives you a goofy grin before opening his mouth and letting out a small, playful cough. You can still see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re nasty,” you cringe and scrunch your nose. He lets out a giggle and playfully pinches at the skin of your waist. When you nudge his leg again just a little harder in response, he rubs the spot on your hip to soothe it, and you can feel his hand twitch against it.

“C…an we muh-make out?” He breaks through the wholesome moment, and you purse your lips into a thin line.

“Your breath fuckin’ reeks, my love,” you pause and a subtle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “And you’re sick.”

Toby rolls over, mouth falling open to let out a quick, disbelieving chuckle. “I am-am not si-sick.”

Laughing, you lean over to be partially draped over his chest, propping yourself up on your side and giving him a gentle kiss. He slowly lowers his eyelids, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek as both of you surround yourself in the blissful moment.

[aajjks]

FUCK! (III)

synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.

pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.

warnings. mâtürè thèmês, jèälöüs koo, dïrty thöughts, ëxplïcït jökès, yn ïs ä säd gïrlïe, sünshïnê koo, #nô fïltèr kôôk, hörny kóó, hè ïs öbsëssèd wïth yöur tïts.

disclaimer. this is purely fictional and this doesn’t represent bts’ jungkook irl. mature themes 18+ content ahead. mdni. ps. this jungkook thinks w his dick 👍

series masterlist.

note. hi, share feedback plz, send asks because they keep me really motivated <333 ENJOY! And I’m so sorry that I’m so late with the update. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the story and if you have, please reread because I know you’re going to enjoy this. Thank you so much.

Honestly, you’re really strong.

You’ve been having a lot of bad dates and stupid, awkward encounters with your ex, Kyungsoo.

But thankfully, who is there for you? Your dear Jungkook. Your roommate who has been with you for quite some time now and it’s safe to say that you’ve gotten a lot of used to his presence, and his stupid jokes.

It’s a new day and you feel a little less depressed as compared to the last week, the sun is out and you feel really hot— literally because the weather is getting warmer and warmer.

Jungkook is sitting on the couch watching football, he’s kind of obsessed with it and he’s always screaming at the screen like a maniac, “WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! YN DID YOU SEE THIS?”

Your ears hurt.

He’s probably talking about some goal that you’re not interested in, How can you be when you’re actually really concerned about your love life these days, you and kyungsoo broke up up quite some time ago and you’ve been struggling with dating.

You’re definitely over him, so what is the problem? You don’t know when that’s frustrating you.

“shut up- you’re too loud.” You snap, closing your eyes and frustration because it’s way too early in the morning, you are definitely a night owl, and he’s quite literally sunshine.

Jungkook eyes are focused on you now, “Woah you need to get laid- I’m volunteering if you care.” His stupid remark has you glaring at him and he just laughs it off, he winks at you in return. And just after that he has started to shamelessly stare at your chest.

He’s not wrong- you do need to get laid.

And Yeah, you’re wearing a top so what? It’s really hot.

“you’re so hot.” Jungkook breathes out. You can see his eyes, and his pupils are quite bright. He’s got pretty eyes. He’s really pretty. Not that you would say that to his face because he will eat your brain that you complimented him and that you want to fuck him.

You don’t.

Well, you’re not sure.

“I know tell me something I don’t know, and stop staring at my tits- they don’t talk.” You scold him, but his gaze just doesn’t budge, you’re so used to him that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

You just roll your eyes at him. “Bet I can make them..” Your gaze hardens and you pick up a pillow from your couch and hit him with it.

He’s so shameless.

Jungkook pretends to be hurt, whining that you hit him hard. What a manchild, “quit it Jeon.” You warn him and he smirks. “And if I don’t? You’re going to punish me?! Please do.” He begs.

You scoff in disgust, but just then you get an idea- you’re going to mess with him. It’s your turn to smirk as you look at him in the eyes once again. “you’re walking on thin ice and you say that you want me to give you a chance, but… not sure if I should because you are a creep.” You shrug and it’s so satisfying the way his expressions change from smug to anxious.

You got him.

VICTORY.

“what are you talking about? I’m not a creep. And I…I please give me one chance all right I’ll stop my remarks.” he is struggling like an idiot. It’s is really nice to be in control.

“respectfully you just have nice breasts.” he shrugs, but you can tell he’s still panicking about what you just said. He ain’t wrong though you got nice breasts but it’s not nice to stare at them.

“Shut up- THIN ICE.”

You warn him, and he puts a finger on his mouth- his doe eyes are literally so panicky, “ugh I have work..” you whine- and Jungkook has started to focus on the game once again, “hey?! You have work too!!!? get up!”

“Yeah no. I won’t get scolded if I’m a little late because my boss kind of likes me.” He laughs.

What a fuckboy.

“you fuck your boss?!!” You know that’s not what he said or implied but you’re so curious, “uh no? Yn you’re mean!” he looks back at you acting so offended.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

You get up before he can even give you a reaction because you know he’s gonna freak out and your prediction is confirmed when you can hear him screaming like an idiot.

You smile as you go back to your room to get ready for work, it wouldn’t be a mistake to give him a chance because he obviously likes you and— he’s been asking you out forever, so why not?

But you’re not sure if you are gonna work out as a couple because he’s too much sometimes, But you’re still going to give him one chance to prove himself.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.”

You giggle as you shut the door behind you.

Sure.

He’s still having those wet dreams about you, it’s a struggle for him and he’s concerned because he’s never felt this way for anyone, and it’s just not the wet dreams.

His feelings for you are the main problem.

He annoys the fuck out of you and your both sitting in the couch, he’s pretending to watch football, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re right next to him smelling like a goddess, and that top of yours?

It’s torture.

Jungkook gets distracted for a minute when his favorite team scores a goal and he screams, he knows that you get annoyed with him and he does that but it’s so fun to get these reactions out of you.

He loves it when you tell him to shut up. And yeah it’s not your fault that you’re so hot because it’s really warm, you just have to make everything look so good.

He looks at you for a minute, and then his gaze just automatically goes to your chest.

You are quite magnificent.

“You’re so hot.” he can’t help but compliment you when you just shrugged and say that you know.

Your confidence is so hot, Jungkook tries his best to be subtle with his lust and attraction towards you, but sometimes it’s just impossible for his tongue to not slip.

He says some things that get you angry.

You hit him with a couch pillow, and he Reacts dramatically, he was just kidding about that one joke. “Ugh.” He whines.

And just like that you guys banter for a while, that isn’t until he fucks it up a little bit more, and you warn him

No, he cannot lose his chance with you.

“I…I please give me one chance. All right, I’ll stop with my remarks.” He is so stupid. Why can’t he keep his hormones and tongue in check?

He doesn’t want you to think that it’s only because he’s physically attracted to you, it’s more than that, yeah, he dreams about fucking you but he also dreams about being with you forever.

That’s how much he likes you.

So please just give him one chance— he thinks to himself when you bring up work and he knows that yeah he has to go to work, but his boss is quite lenient and the pay is really good.

He is watching the game once again when you accuse him of fucking his boss, he does not do that— Jungkook feels a little bad, because that’s all you think of him?

“uh no I don’t- Yn you’re mean!” he looks at you and this time your breasts don’t distract him, he wants you to think of him as a man that is of commitment, but he has a lot to prove.

He has really fucked up his chances—? He feels his heart break as negative thoughts consume him, and he cannot even log into your eyes anymore.

You get up, probably get ready for work because you take everything in your life or seriously and you’re Punctual.

You’re so perfect for him

But maybe it looks like he’s not perfect for you. And that sucks, Should he just give up on you? He’s not sure.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

Did he just hear you right? Did you really just say you don’t give him a chance? And then he can take you out on a date

He tilts his head so fast, absolutely freaked out, his eyes are white, and his mouth is agape,

He’s not being delusional right now, is he?

“Y-Yn what did you just say?

He stutters out because he really cannot believe what you just said right now, have you hit your head or something because he’s asked you the same question for the past year but you have denied him, so why the sudden change?

He feels so happy right now- jungkook gets up from the couch and goes after you, but before he can catch you, so we can confirm what he just heard you giggle.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.” Before you can actually shut the door he says it out loud.

and you shut the door behind you.

[izvmimi]

cw: heavy angst, talk of children, childbirth and death, grief, bakugou is miserable tbh, izuku has an unnamed wife

a/n: sorry lol. also repost.

Izuku’s infant son looks disturbingly just like him, Bakugou realizes.

A bit small for age height-wise, but chubby nonetheless, with a shock of green wavy-curly hair. Large, green eyes. The freckles haven’t settled in yet, probably because he’s still too young, but the features are nearly the same. 

The kid also won’t stop kicking as Katsuki tries to fasten his diaper, and he’s getting a tiny bit frustrated. At least he’s not crying - thankfully, he doesn’t appear to have inherited the excessively soft disposition from his dad.

“You’re gonna have to be faster than that,” you joke from behind him. Bakugou finishes up securing the diaper, then glances at you and scowls. “Next time he’ll pee on ya!” you giggle while Bakugou gets the baby’s onesie back on then carries him so that he rests on his chest. He makes his way towards the bottle warmer - the baby isn’t crying now, but based on the guide Izuku’s wife gave him, this is about the time for his next feeding and he’s got a pair of lungs on him. It also doesn’t help that the toddler keeps nuzzling his face into his chest as though he’s trying to find a nipple to suck on. 

He does have to admit the little kiddo is cute.

“Did you check the temperature?”

You watch him carefully as he shakes warm milk onto the back of his hand, perched on the counter and swinging your feet gently. Bakugou doesn’t keep his eyes off of you as he checks, child cradled in his left arm.

“I know what I’m doing, princess,” he asserts. He has a little pout instead of a scowl instead, the one you’ve always thought was cute, where he communicates his disappointment that you’re underestimating his skill.

“Of course you do, love.” You smile widely, sweetly, as if you weren’t just micromanaging him. Not that he minds - when you hop off the counter and walk towards him, hands reaching upwards to caress his face gently, he can feel his face growing warm, even if your hands are disturbingly cool to the touch. 

You make your way to the couch first, nearly gliding along the linoleum that lines the kitchen, then along the impeccably clean wooden floorboards into the Midoriyas’ living room. It’s odd that you know this house so well, but you and Izuku’s wife had long been friends and spent many a night together in this very home when he and Izuku had been wrapped up in high grade missions and wouldn’t be home for days to weeks on end.

You flop onto the couch and point the remote to the television, even though it is already on, set to the news. Bakugou holds the baby in his lap as he sits down behind you and starts to feed him. You rest your head on his shoulder and to Katsuki, you are as light as a feather. 

“We haven’t had time together in a long while,” you whisper. 

Bakugou’s head tilts ever so slightly so that it rests against yours as well.

“You’re right. I’ve missed you,” he insists. There’s a quiet silence between you. It really has been a while that you’ve been able to sit together like this, despite being husband and wife.

“Are you fine with babysitting?” you ask. “Izuku was worried about asking you in the first place according to ___, and she had to convince him it was okay despite everything, insisting that it would be good for you-”

Katsuki interrupts your rambling with a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s fine,” he says, gruffly. Your lips pull into a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I wish things had been different,” you say anyway.

Katsuki can feel his heart breaking, and instead focuses on the child in his lap, monitoring his progress on the bottle. He had wanted a child. He had wanted a child so badly, one that looked like him and you, and what had it brought him? 

The memory of you haunting him constantly, always there, but not really there.

When he looks back at you again, your form is starting to dissipate, as it does whenever he starts to remember you’re no longer on this plane of existence.

His hands are full so he can no longer cling to you - plus this has happened so many times before that he’s now nearly used to it - so instead he watches you go, numb, tears no longer falling from his eyes. After all, just for today, he has someone else to take care of, even if it’s for a short period of time. 

The kid is falling asleep in his lap now, and it’s just the two of them as Bakugou watches, but doesn’t really watch the shifting pictures in front of him. Being a godfather feels like an incomplete substitute for being a father at times, but it’s valuable all the same.

“Guess it’s just me and you, kid,” he whispers as he rises to put the baby to bed.

When the Midoriyas never return, and Bakugou signs the last of adoption papers, it rings again true.

The child laughs a little more now, unaware that his godfather now turned legal father sees three figures that aren’t really there instead of one now. Bakugou smiles as he throws the kid up in the air, realizing that misery might have helped him mourn you initially, but won’t keep the two of them safe.

“Guess it really is just me and you.”

[annaloveshjp]

cold kisses ✧

——————————————————————

harry potter x gn!reader

word count: 1k

summary: cute little scenario of harry being sleepy and wanting kisses ♡

——————————————————————

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice pulls you from your book as he walks into the common room after his quidditch practice.

“Harry, hi,” you greet him. He walks over and plops himself onto the sofa next to you. Harry’s still in his quidditch sweater, which is a bit too big for him. He pulls the sleeves over his hands to make paws.

“You okay? How was practice?” you ask him, putting your book down and patting your lap, inviting him to lie down. He sometimes reminded you of a puppy.

“Fine, and good,” he says softly. He leans down and stretches across your lap, groaning as he does. The wind messed up his hair, sticking everywhere, but not much more than usual. You stroke his hair as he leans into you more, undoing any small knots the wind had created.

His cheeks grow warm from the fireplace that is always lit. He sighs in contentment as the warmth spreads through his body.

“Need a shower?” you ask. He doesn’t reply for a moment, then nods his head. “Yeah,”

“Okay, well, go,” you nudge his head lightly.

“I don’t want to,” he says. “You’re comfortable.”

“My lap will still be here after your shower, Harry,” you say, smiling. “Now go, love. Take a nice, relaxing shower,”

He tilts his head to look at you. “Okay,” he proceeds to roll off of the sofa, hurting his behind in the process.

“Owww,” he groans tiredly. “That hurt,”

“No shit, Harry,” you sigh. “Now shoo, before I drag your arse up to your dorm,”

He lets a small smile slip onto his face before getting up and going to shower, but not before kissing you on the cheek.

You pick your book up and continue reading as he showers. After a while, you check the clock and see it’s been thirty minutes and you start to wonder if he fell asleep in the shower.

You put your book down and walk up to his dorm. You knock and wait for a sign of protest but hear nothing, so you open the door.

Walking in, you look over to see Harry lying in his bed with damp hair and no shirt on. He looks asleep, but you confirm he isn’t when you hear a muffled hi coming from his direction.

You look around to make sure the other beds are empty (they were), then walk over to him and sit beside him.

“How was your shower?” you ask him, reaching over and rubbing his bare shoulder. He flinches slightly at your cold touch.

“Good,” he seems to be talking to his pillow.

A sudden idea pops into your head. “Hey, sit up,”

He lifts his head to give you a questioning look.

“Love, sit up,” you repeat.

He stretches before obliging. He now sits next to you on the bed, his eyelids drooping slightly.

“Good,” you say quietly before crawling behind him on the bed and sitting down again. You raise your hands and begin massaging his shoulders so he can relax.

He tensed up for a second. You questioned why in your head for a moment before realizing why he felt so warm; your hands had been cold before.

“Sorry,” you say. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s okay, they’ll get warmer as you go on,” he says. “But that sure woke me up.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you continued with your massage.

“How did everyone do during practice?” you ask him. Your hands are getting warmer now.

“Everyone did fine,” he says. “Ron missed a few, and Katie got lightheaded after an hour, but other than that, it was good.”

“That’s good,” you agree. “D’you think I'd make a good player?”

“With your aim? No way,” he jokes. “But maybe a beater. Do you like hitting things?”

“Sometimes,” you say. “One time I actually hit my sibling with a pillow and knocked them off our loft bed,” you cringe and half smile at the memory.

“Ouch,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Maybe next year I’ll try for beater, who knows?”

“That’d be cool,” Harry says. “I’d get to boss you around, ha!”

“You already can, Harry,” you say without thinking. Your face turns red in realization but thankfully Harry can’t see.

“I– what?” he turns around with a slight smirk as he notices your shocked state.

You quickly compose yourself and say with as much confidence as you can muster, “You heard me. You already can.”

He narrows his eyes for a moment. “Okay, then. Get off the bed.”

You didn’t think he’d actually start to boss you around, but you oblige anyway. You crawl around him and off the bed, now standing in front of him. “Is that it?” you ask.

“Now, kiss me.”

You look at him. “Is that it?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Now do as I say. Please?”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes playfully before leaning forward and giving him a swift peck on the lips.

“Hey! That wasn’t a kiss!” he whines as you back away.

“It was!” you say.

“Barely,” he retorts.

“Fine,” you say as you walk up to him. Harry scoots back on the bed to make room for you to sit. You sit down and look from his eyes to his lips.

His hand cups your jaw as you both lean in for a kiss. Your hands go to his warm shoulders as your lips meet and suddenly your whole body is warmer than just a few seconds ago.

You lean into him to somehow feel him more, which makes the kiss more intense. One of his hands goes to rest on your hip and all of a sudden you’re sitting on his lap.

You pull away for air after a moment. “Good enough kiss?” you ask him.

“Almost,” he says. He leans forward once again and pecks your lips once, twice, then a third time before he says, “Okay, good.”

You smile and kiss him on the nose.

Harry pulls you with him as he lies down on his back, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“I’m warm now,” you say. “Thank you for sharing your body heat.”

“No problem, love,” he says through a yawn. “Can we sleep now?”

“Of course,” you say. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Honey,” he whispers.

[chrisevansonly]

Buy Some Flowers for You

harry styles x female reader

summary: harry’s always looking for an excuse to buy some flowers for his girl

warnings: none very fluffy

a/n: here’s a little shorty, i’m working on a short charles fic too don’t worry but i’ve been missing writing for harry<3

Harry was always thoughtful no matter what he did, whether it was for your birthday or an anniversary, even just a normal day like today. The sun was out for once in London, it was a warmer day thankfully after a cold and miserable winter.

One thing that often came with spring was Tulips and flower markets, which leads us to right now as Harry had stopped to gather a beautiful bouquet for you. No reason other than he wanted too and because he loved you so much.

You’d always loved flowers, and had a fresh bouquet every week courtesy of your ever so loving boyfriend or if you managed to sneak some past him, which was very rare.

He took his flower picking job seriously.

“Lovie?” he called out through the flat when he got home, the smell of dinner wafting through the front hallway

“In the kitchen!”

He smiled hearing you call back, kicking his shoes off by the door he then made his way towards you. As soon as you came into view he could feel his heart swell, an apron tied around you as you worked on yet another new recipe.

“Hi baby-oh! H you got me flowers…?”

Your eyes softened as you walked toward him, wiping your hands off on the apron before taking the bouquet from him and leaning forward to kiss his lips.

“Thank you so much baby..”

“You’re welcome”

Admiring them with a smile still on your face you quickly placed them in a vase with fresh water, placing them on the centre of the island.

“Perfect!”

“Just like you..” Harry said softly, which earned him another kiss and a hug, enjoying every moment of getting to be cozied up with you.

Harry always had a way with words, but he definitely had a way with flowers too.

[juniperdugong]

How NOT to Summon a Demon

Pairing: demon!Sukuna x GN!reader (reader is in college) Genre: Fluff CW: Swearing WC: 872

Day 8 of To Halloween with Love Event

A/N: Hey at least my other two today were drabbles... ANYWAYS! Anyone up for domestic demon tutor Sukua AU tonight!! Hell yeah!

"I don't know how this happened..." You sat kneeling as you furiously scrambled to skim over pages and pages of text. Texts that you were sure you memorized to a tee but obviously... something went wrong somewhere along the way - Because instead of a silly little imp meant to help you with homework, you had a hulking man triple your size staring down at you.

"Yeah, well I'm here now and you've disturbed my peace." The man gruffs, grabbing at the book in your hand and examining it, "You screwed up."

"I know. Obviously, I know." You're scratching your head trying to think of something - anything - that would make this better. "What do I do? Send you back? How?"

"Nope. Can't be sent back till whatever you made a deal for is done..." Tossing the book aside the monster of a man took residence on your bed, making himself comfortable as you grew more and more uncomfortable with the situation; The bed squeaked and groaned with the sudden unknown weight.

"Oh- I wanted or- The deal I was trying to make was for help with my homework..." You sheepishly fold, now embarrassed as you hear the ridiculous words come out of your mouth - Who the hell tries to summon a demon to take care of something as simple as homework? And why the heck would a spell meant to do that summon this beast of a demon who obviously has more practice in killing than mathematics?

"Homework? Ha!" He picks himself up and grunts like an old man as he sits at the edge of the bed, "That's so stupid. You couldn't have made a deal to- I don't know. Become top of your class or graduate early of something?"

"I didn't have the foresight to make those types of deals..."

"Woah a dumbass like you can use big words like 'foresight'"

"Hey! That's mean." You snap back at him.

"I'm a literal demon... I don't know what you expected, babe." The use of a nickname throws you for a loop and your face gets warmer with the sudden casual talk between you two. You hear a deep chuckle come from the demon seeing your reaction.

He rubs his hands together and black dust begins to accumulate, with a simple snap a pair of glasses fit for himself apparates from nothing. "What are you doing then? Sit in your chair." He gestures towards your desk.

"What?" You do as he says out of fear but with confusion written all over your face.

"What do you mean 'what?', brat." He lurches forward and sits on the floor next to you, large enough that he sits at nearly the same height as you in your desk chair. "What are we doing first? Science, math, or English?"

---

The next few days become oddly comfortable with the presence of a demon. Thankfully, no one was able to see him other than you unless he wanted them to. Did this lead to many instances of him practically stalking you or appearing out of nowhere? Yes... but even these became common occurrences - Ones that you didn't really mind as long as you were getting your grades up.

It's only when the semester comes to a close and you and (who you learned to call) Sukuna are much more friendly than a person oughta be with a demon that you begin to wonder...

"Sukuna?"

"What, brat?" Sukuna mumbles, words slightly muffled as he nuzzles closer to your neck. You're both cuddled snuggly into each other. A light blanket draped over you because Sukuna's warmth was more than enough to keep the winter cold at bay.

"Why aren't you gone?" There's a pregnant pause as he takes in what you just said and you giggle as he suddenly manhandles you to face towards him - A furious look on his face (even more so than usual) that screws up into confusion.

"What? You want me gone?" He's stern and you can detect just a hint of sadness and distress coming from him as his thoughts race.

"No. I mean-" And you do your best to wrap your arms around him and bring him in close... Only able to pull yourself closer to his unmoving form in the process, "You said you'd be sent back once the deal is up. My grades are up and my school work is done, so I'm just wondering-"

Looking up you see the rarest of sights - a slight blush on Sukuna's face as you remember his words from so long ago. "Kuna?"

"What?-" He comes back to his senses, bringing you into a tight hug and smothering you with his chest so you wouldn't see the face of the demon go red from embarrassment. "You're so stupid that you probably wouldn't be able to live without me... so I decided to stay."

"Yof cam do dat?" (You can do that?) Your voice is completely muffled as he overpowers you.

"I can do whatever the hell I want. I'm a fucking demon, babe."

And you're not sure if you're comforted by his words but you're kinda glad that you got this guy instead of some whimpy imp.

A/N: And just like that I'm caught up lol. I'm obsessed with soft Sukuna, sorry not sorry. My JJk "drabbles" always end up being ficlets and I have no qualms about that.

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

JJK Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

[shalscumbunny]

When shalnark gets home after chimaera ant arc he makes reader give him a massage bc he’s got sore little (big omg choke me out) arms

Relaxation session | Shalnark x GN.Reader

Summary: During the Ants arc, Shalnark arrives at your house completely exhausted and fatigued, of course, it is your duty to relieve him.

Pairing: Shalnark X GN.Reader

Warnings: Possible spoiler for the Chimera Ant Arc plot, kidnapped reader, maybe fluff?, at most a small sexual connotation, after that, all is pretty mild.

Author’s note: My goodness, how I crave with those big arms of Shalnark 🥵 I don't think this expression is used in English, but well, in Spanish, we sometimes say "He stayed dry as a log" When someone falls deeply asleep

Sites: AO3

You grumbled and complained as you watched the stain on the table refuse to come out no matter how hard you scrubbed it with the cloth. At this point in your life and after these months of forced cohabitation with Shalnark, you had learned to endure the time.

Obviously, every time he returned from a trip, you continued to beg him to buy you a television, since you sometimes got bored alone in the apartment.

You'd pass the time cleaning, tidying up, or circling things you wanted in magazines, even though you knew he stole them.

Lost in scrubbing the stain, you didn't hear the door. You only realized Shalnark was there when you felt his weight on your back, his face in your hair, and his arms around you.

Something was different. He felt heavier, and his arms were unusually gentle. His hugs were usually strong, sometimes even a little rough, but now they were soft and weak.

"Shalnark! You startled me!" You said, looking up at him with wide eyes

"I was hoping for a warmer welcome" He replied, but his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

You could tell he was exhausted. Setting down the cleaning supplies, you studied him closely.

"Are you alright? You look terrible" It was unusual for you to worry about him like this.

"I'm fine" He said, managing a weak smile "I'm going to take a bath”

You remained still, not knowing quite what to say or do. For the next hour, you stayed in the living room, listening to the shower and Shalnark's groans of pain.

After the shower turned off, you saw him come out limping and go into the bedroom. You sighed, rolling your eyes and walked to the kitchen, prepared a chamomile infusion, and went to the bedroom with the cup.

When you arrived, you found him in the clothes he usually wore around the apartment, sitting by the window, completely lost in thought.

"Hey" You approached him, sitting down beside him, offering him the cup of chamomile "This will help you relax"

Somewhat surprised, he smiled and began to drink the chamomile as you watched him silently. You took a deep breath and walked to the nightstand, taking out a cream.

"Could you take off your shirt?" You asked, moving on your knees on the bed until you were behind him.

Shalnark sighed and obeyed. As he took off his shirt, he let out small groans of pain, revealing his very tense body, especially his arms.

You rolled your eyes, beginning to massage his back first. You couldn't help but blush at how incredibly muscular he was, but you chose to ignore that. You listened to his groans and moans of fatigue and pain as you massaged him, but after about fifteen minutes, you saw how that part of his body thankfully relaxed.

After that, you started to massage his arms which were harder and sorer, making him gasp and close his eyes in pain. You nibble your lip, looking at his arms. They were quite muscular, they looked good... you really liked them, you couldn't help but think about the times when those arms carried you or trapped you against the wall.

They felt hot as always, hot like when they hugged your waist while you were sleeping or when they trapped your legs while he was inside you.

You spent a good amount of time massaging Shalnark's arms, until you saw him more relaxed.

"Better...?" you asked, wiping the sweat from your forehead with your arm.

"I didn't know you were good at massages too” Shalnark said mockingly.

You sighed annoyed and helped him put his shirt back on.

"You should sleep" You advised, watching him stand up.

Shalnark didn't answer, he just hugged you, nuzzling his face into your neck like a puppy seeking warmth.

"I like having someone who waits for me at home..." He whispered, kissing your neck "I can't imagine life without you..."

You couldn't help but blush at his comment, nibbling your lower lip and rubbing his back with the palm of your hand.

"Nonsense..." you murmured.

Shalnark couldn't help but smile and kiss your lips tenderly.

"You're so sweet and grumpy at the same time, don't worry, when I'm better I'll give you what you like”

You blushed, annoyed, watching him throw himself on the bed and cover himself with the sheets, looking at you with a mischievous and somewhat flirtatious smile.

"You're very bad at hiding things, do you think I didn't see those blushes while you were massaging my arms?" Shalnark said with a yawn, a few seconds he fell asleep, as dry and hard as a log, snoring softly.

"Idiot..." you murmured, arranging and stroking his blond hair carefully.

Thank you for reading this shit 🤍