#they all have matching scarfs and nose piercings

[pseudowho]

Monster

Your colleague, Higuruma Hiromi, has seemed so tired, for so long. You'd do anything to help him...right?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Higuruma, blood consumption, male masturbation, female masturbation, thigh fucking, PIV, m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, sex-pollenish/aphrodisiac effects and vampirism

(dis)honourable mention to @delirious-donna for helping me to decide on the location of this flagrant sluttiness.

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Higuruma Hiromi was driven to skin-clawing distraction by daydreams of the taste of you, in more ways than one.

You never knew this, of course. Late-nights alone in the office invariably turned into debauched scenes of Hiromi, fucking into his fist and wishing it was your pussy instead; teeth piercing his own blood from his hand and being lapped up by his whining mouth, wishing it was your throat instead. Too many times had he needed to wipe droplets of blood and milky cum off his paperwork, shuddering with the remnants of his orgasm, his cock still semi-hard in his fist.

His latest cunning plan to sate this desperate hunger, had been unsuccessful. Sat at your desk, and breathing deeply of one of the scarves you had left in your drawer, had set his cock hardening against his thigh humiliatingly fast. Hiromi had tugged at the roots of his own hair, head thrown back and growling in frustration. Fumbling around in his bag, he had clumsily slopped lube into a pocket-pussy, and withdrawn the unit of packed red blood cells he had managed to steal from the local hospital.

Messy, and sweaty, Hiromi had drunk from this pack, while the slick sounds of his frantic self-pleasuring and fractured, sandy moans filled the empty office. Your scarf, steeped in the smell of you, remained draped over his face and nose the whole time.

With each passing day you grew sweeter, and riper. He could not cope. He could not cope. He would not last.

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One day, you hoped, you might arrive in the office before Hiromi. Whatever the time of year, he arrived before the break of dawn, and left after the sun had set. Vitamin D supplements had entered into your head as the next possible way to help him, and you shook yourself for being so ridiculous-- although...

"I...you don't have to buy me coffee every morning," Hiromi whispered, something tender coiling in his belly when you slipped a large black coffee and a bagged pastry onto his desk, "let alone breakfast."

"Well," you hummed, benign, "would you eat or drink if I didn't feed you?" Hiromi narrowed his eyes, a challenging little smile within them. A scoff.

"If I lied to you, would you believe me?"

"You're a great lawyer, Hiromi. But not smart enough to lie to me."

His laughter, rich and genuine, burst in you, a stunning puff of petals. You couldn't laugh with him, as your heart stalled in place. How could you not help him, when a match struck in his eyes, just from looking at you?

"Not that I ever would." Hiromi assured, low and smooth. His eyes never left yours once. His gravity threatened to pull you straight into his arms. "Lie to you, that is. You're the only thing that..." Hiromi trailed off, clearing his throat. He looked back to his papers, pale. You missed the tremor in his hands. You couldn't feel how he held himself back from taking you, in every way, here on his desk.

If only he knew you would let him.

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How the fuck did he find himself in the driving rain, three floors up, looking through your balcony windows? How the fuck had it gotten this bad? You were a drug. Forbidden fruit. Hiromi had not drunk from a person in so long, instead surviving on a knife's edge, from stolen blood bags and wild deer. He couldn't recall what came first; needing to be inside you, or needing you inside him. It all equated to hunger, anyway. He was starved.

Even a morsel would do. That's how he found himself outside your bedroom, in a storm, watching you fuck yourself in your bedroom when you should have been sleeping. The rainwater seeped through his black suit, doing nothing to cool the hot, velvet throb between his legs. His hair was swept back off his forehead, drenched, squinting against the biting wind as he marvelled at the image of you.

Clearly, you were unable to distract yourself from the ache in your belly, and the little memories of past orgasms that throbbed through your clit. Every time the thought of Hiromi fucking into you had crossed your mind, you reached for something in your drawer that would never satisfy that urge like he would.

You lay on your belly, stretched and stuffed all the way to your cervix with a dildo and rabbit. You had spent your generous paycheck on an expensive toy, one that thrusted. You knew, deep down, humping the dildo inside you with a pillow between your legs, that it would never be able to replicate the real thing. You felt the blunt little punch of the mechanical dildo against your belly, fucking it into you, as if it would soothe your spiritual famine. Your pleasure was dulled, without the accompanying tenderness of the man that you wanted...needed.

You wore an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else, and Hiromi watched how your back arched and undulated, rolling your cunt against the pillow. You gripped another pillow between your arms, biting into it, mewling at the deliciousness of being filled with something, anything. Hiromi's animalistic senses could hear your little cries, and the muffled buzz of your toys. He could smell the silky arousal that spilled out around your dildo. He could taste you on the air, almost.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to allow his inhuman strength to take over, punch a hole through the glass and step in, silhouetted against the moonlight. Hiromi would allow his own musk, a curious trap in the art of seduction and predation, to seep over you. Hiromi would watch as you became pliable, supple. You wouldn't fight as he shushed you, pulling the dildo from you and licking it clean. You would whimper for him to replace the emptiness he had left behind, and he would, of course, oblige you. He would press you down by the back of your neck, as if you would ever resist him, and promise you that it wouldn't hurt. He would drink down your cries and your blood as he fucked you down against the sheets, his mouth lapping so fervently at your throat.

He hadn't even noticed how close to his own peak he had come, but as you tensed and keened against your pillow, he felt the dangerous tug of his balls tightening against the base of his cock. He wasn't even touching himself, how could he possibly--

"...H-Hiromi...haaaaah please please fuck me please...oooooohhhh 'm cumming--"

Hiromi came with a shout, with next to no warning, to hear you cry out his name. He convulsed, hunched and doubled-over, cursing and feeling thick ropes of his seed pulse through his jerking cock, diluting with rainwater and trickling down his thighs. He was stunned, panting against the glass, and he nearly swallowed his own heart when he heard the rustle of sheets, and a timid little voice pipe through the dark.

"Hello? Who's there?"

By the time you had pulled the dildo from yourself with a shiver, and opened the balcony door, there was nothing left behind but the churning storm. Clinging to the underside of your balcony, still panting and covered in his own cum, Hiromi knew that something deep within him had fractured completely.

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You were astounded to find yourself alone in the office as the sun set. Hiromi had left before you, with a sickly-looking smile, and a languid wave of that long, pale hand. While you were thrilled that he was going home at a normal time, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He knew you were staying to work late on a case...and had, apparently, chosen this one night to leave before nightfall.

Night had, indeed, fallen fast. The sunset blotted out quickly behind grey rolling clouds. Another storm swept in, dragging the night along with it. You opened a window, seeking the earthy petrichor to balm your weary soul. You sunk your lovesickness into a bitter coffee, as if it was enough to replace the lackadaisical cleverness of the man who haunted your every waking moment.

You tried to distract yourself, awash in case notes. The hours dragged, long and lonely. Rubbing your eyes as the clock struck midnight, you stood to collect the key to lock the office, only to find it missing.

"Shit..." you murmured, sitting back at your desk to rummage in the drawers. You rummaged in all the drawers-- your boss's, your colleagues, Hiromi's...

The lights above you went out with a click. One by one, throughout the length of the office, the lights went out, out, out, and you were plunged into darkness. You felt a lick of ice down the nape of your neck, and every hair stood on end. You were being watched.

"Shit...shit... where's the key... where's the fucking key?" You hissed to yourself, terror crawling across your skin.

Hiromi was barely himself anymore as he stalked you from the shadows. His belly was a cavernous pit. The unholy combination of starvation and desire stirred the monster within. He lay in waiting, allowing you to be drawn in, running to him while you thought you were running away.

You had tried every nook, every pigeon hole, every secret hook throughout the office, but fear made you sloppy. You couldn't go home too late, when the streets were empty. Not with all the tales of hungry beasts hunting for lone prey in the night.

Why, then, as you approached the expansive boardroom at the end of the corridor, did you find yourself becoming so...mellow? You felt light, airy. You floated on an otherworldly, heady musk, so alluring. It reminded you of someone...but who? You couldn't remember, so many drinks deep into this odd botanical tonic. It throbbed through you, intoxicating and warm and your heart was beating between your legs by the time you swayed into the boardroom, undoing your hair, loosening the buttons of your blouse--

"...I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

You blinked, slow and drunk. Frowning as your vision cleared, you saw Hiromi, illuminated by moonlight. He sat in the executive's chair, at the head of the great boardroom table. A flash of lightning set his features in dramatic clarity, his Roman nose casting deep shadows across his profile. Still, you thought, with your little hum or surprise, he looked pale. Tense. Tortured.

"...Hiromi...Hiro..." you whispered, padding over to him, barefoot. You couldn't remember when you had shed your shoes. Hiromi's skin prickled. The way your voice, sweet and breathy, ran straight to his cock, had him biting one finger between gradually lengthening canines, his other fingertips steepled against his deeply frowning forehead.

"...wouldn't leave anyway...not when I've...finally got you all to myself..." You slurred, grinning, a happy drunk. Hiromi couldn't help but bite one lip, smiling back at you, as you sat with a thud on his lap. His deadly, predatory pheromones increased against his will, to feel your soft, plush curves pressed to his lap. Hiromi trailed one arm around your waist. The part of him that screamed for him to stop, was trapped in a glass box in his mind.

"Yeah?" Hiromi whispered, one pale hand cupping your jaw. "You've been wanting me all alone? Tell me." She wants this it's okay it's not a trap she'll help me she'd always help me god she's so beautiful--

"I have. For months. I dream about you." The words left your mouth unbidden, dragged from you by some irresistible force. Hiromi drank them down, needing to hear you confess your desire for him.

"And what do you do?" Hiromi urged, his voice rough with need. "What do you do, when you dream of me? Tell me. Now."

"I touch myself and...and wish it was you, instead." Hiromi shivered.

"Until you cum? To the thought of my cock inside you? Until you're calling out for me?" You nodded, hurried and floppy. Hiromi cursed under his breath, a thumb brushing over your lips, salivating at the memory of you on your bed, crying out his name.

"Yeah," you promised, almost tearful now with the weight of your confessions, "I do, I cum so hard, but it's not enough, it's not the same as-- as--"

You slid a hand up Hiromi's chest, his sloppy tie and partially unbuttoned shirt, and were surprised by how cool he felt. He groaned beneath your touch, and you shivered, turning and pressing your chest to his. Hiromi panted beneath you, his face contorted, barely restrained. His hands felt so strong, trapping you to him by your waist, and you were sure there would be bruises left behind.

"Let me taste you," Hiromi convinced, his voice low and persuasive, "just once...you're going to help me." His fingers tangled in your hair now, angling your face up, and you blinked slowly, dazed and unquestioning. His teeth were sharp, bared. You could feel the length of his cock, throbbing against your belly. The frantic rise and fall of his chest made you feel like you were on a little boat, rocking over waves.

You had barely begun to nod, before he pulled you in for a kiss so deep, your head swam. Hiromi groaned into your mouth, forcing your lips to part with his own, devouring you with bliss and fervour. You had never felt so alive, your little heart beating like hummingbird wings. The taste of him was sinful. He wanted to carve out your soul and tie it to his, enshrined, fit for worship. By the time his tongue had plunged into your mouth, you were loose and supple on his lap.

Every ounce of uncertainty had left you. Just as Hiromi's mouth began to trail across your jaw, towards your neck, your hand slipped beneath his belt. Hiromi's lips released the lovebite he had just made above your pulse point with a pop, and his head flung back against the executive's chair's headrest. The moan that left his lips was more pornographic than you had ever dreamt. His silky foreskin seared beneath your touch.

"--f-fuck, god, I-- squeeze me harde--- oooohh-ooohhh shit...hnnnn--'

Hiromi's hands gripped the armrests, white-knuckled, and the two monsters inside him fought a bloody fight to see you slip to your knees between his own, batting his thighs aside. Your hand had released his cock, and if he didn't have it back again, or your blood in his mouth, he would break.

"Will you help me, or not?" He hissed at you, imploring you to spill your soul to him. Lost in this curious haze, you found yourself unable to refuse him an answer.

"...always help you, Hiromi." You mumbled, your fingers deftly undoing his belt. Your teeth unzipped his trousers, and the way Hiromi blushed when your eyes shot him such a filthy look, made you giggle. Maybe I'm the one in danger, he thought vaguely. You hummed, rubbing the pre-cum wet tip of his freed cock against your lips, glossing them. Hiromi's teeth bared again in a snarl, and he panted, bucking up into your hand. You teased him, stroking his length slowly, rolling his aching balls in one hand. Hiromi was frayed, furious with so many unfulfilled needs. He snapped.

"Open your mouth and let me fuck it or I swear--" Hiromi's uncharacteristic threats broke off into a strangled moan, when you took him into your mouth, hot and wet and all at once. Sucking at the tip, curling your tongue to cup the underside of his cockhead, you let the bobs of your head, and swirls of your tongue run smooth and sloppy.

The very air around you felt steeped in wildflowers, and the bizarre pseudo-alcoholic rush heightened every sensation. Even though there was clearly something very wrong with the man you had lusted after for so long, his taste his moans his fingers in your hair his trembling thrusts into your mouth, felt so right.

"--more tongue...deeper deeper yesssss...good girl, fuck-- f-fuck, good girl...wanna come in your mouth-- swallow it-- swallow me--"

You obliged him, and your consciousness remained dragged just a millisecond after your movements as you sunk your mouth lower, swallowing around his cockhead until your nose brushed his downy black happy-trail, and your throat constricted around his tip. Hiromi felt a slam of pleasure behind his navel as his orgasm hit, everything in him tightening with his release.

Hiromi's cries, so frantic and needy, crescendoed through the boardroom, and you felt cool ropes of cum spurt against the back of your tongue. Hiromi watched you swallow around his jerking cock, certain he must be dreaming the eroticism of this. By the time your dewy eyes opened again to look up at him, his cock still hard against your white-spattered tongue, Hiromi had lost all composure. Something white-hot and terrifying rolled off him, and you pulled away, spit and semen connecting you in a thread to his twitching cockhead. Your heart clenched, suddenly feeling a flicker of fear.

"...Hiromi? What's wrong?" You asked, cautious as you rose, scooting backwards onto the boardroom table and sliding yourself away from him. Hiromi stood, slow and deliberate. Something had changed within him. Every action of his seemed clipped, hyper-efficient and intentional. You felt your heady drunkenness increase, a thick pulse of desire shooting through your core, and you tried to ignore it with a whimper.

A flash of lightning illuminated you both-- for the briefest moment, you swore you could see the shadow of great wings behind Hiromi's lean, predatory form. A rumble of thunder rattled the boardroom. Drifts of rain swept the glass wall.

"...knew you'd work it out in the end." Hiromi cooed, his words licking at you, coaxing you back. "Clever girl. I told you I couldn't let you leave, didn't I?" He began to crawl along the table towards you, seemingly weightless, his movement so fluid-- so inhuman.

"You won't-- you won't kill me." You stated, as much to convince him as yourself. Hiromi swallowed, his pupils dilated, still crawling to catch up with you. As you darted back, he leapt forwards, dragging you to him by your ankle and caging you against the table beneath him. Only then, did you see the turmoil in him.

"I'd never. I could never. I wouldn't, ever." Hiromi spat, beseeching. You softened. He saw how you squirmed beneath him, knew how his hormones had ensnared you, making you desperate. Seeing you clutch your thighs together for relief, your nipples pebbled and almost freed beneath your blouse, Hiromi gulped again.

"I'm so-- so hungry." Hiromi growled, canines sharp against his lower lip, "And I need-- need-- I can make this good...for both of us. I can make you, if I need to, but I-- I'd rather not. Trust me. Please." He did not need to beg or force, when you were already undressing beneath him, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to take you since the first time your name had fallen from his lips.

"I trust you. Just...just...please." You begged now, and Hiromi shuddered, his eyes black as another flash of lightning flashed on his exquisite profile. He watched you, breasts heaving, now in just your bra and underwear. A burst of pheromones from him left you whimpering, your neck stretched to the side. He raised one strong, fine-boned hand to circle your throat, protecting it from himself as his mouth moved down your body.

"...so close already, aren't you? My beauty...best thing I've ever tasted." Hiromi whispered, his lips ghosting over one freed nipple, pre-cum dripping where his cock dragged against your thighs, "Need you sweeter...before I drink you." You whimpered beneath his mouth, suckling on your nipple until you cried out, your hands tangling in his inky, grey-streaked locks of hair. His hand kneaded at your other breast, relishing the softly yielding squish beneath his fingers.

Your thighs parted for just long enough to clamp Hiromi's cock between them, slick with his dripping pre-cum and your arousal. Hiromi gasped, canines grazing against your nipple, and your thighs clamped harder, Hiromi jerking with a cursing groan above you. He rutted spontaneously, sliding his cock between the plush of your thighs with a shaky, prolonged moan. Hiromi stayed this way for a few minutes, lapping and kneading at your breasts, fucking himself between your thighs. His pleasure threatened to peak again, and he hissed, slipping his cock free of the hot glove your thighs had made for him.

"Don't...don't." Hiromi growled, nipping your belly in warning as he slid himself down, shooting you a look to burn. "I'm not cumming on this fucking table, when I could cum inside you." Your breath hitched with the promise, feeling so weightless as Hiromi stripped your underwear from you. He took a moment to admire the glistening petals around your core, before sinking his tongue and nose between them with a moan.

Hiromi didn't allow you to last. Already so close to your peak, Hiromi's essence pulsed through you with your taste on his tongue. You were washed through with a skin-prickling, burning orgasm, plundering through you like wildfire. Hiromi had gripped you, and would not let you go, and with his mouth desperately lapping at your clit, your orgasm simply did not end.

You were a wreck, writhing and twisting and begging, all frantic cries of his name, alternately trying to shove Hiromi's head away and pull him closer. With one particularly hard push against him, Hiromi drew away, and bit onto the soft inside of your thigh in warning. You squealed as he drew blood.

You almost heard his heartbeat stop, enthralled by the droplets of blood running down your thigh. His tongue darted out, capturing them before they hit the table, your blood and arousal mixing on his tongue. You suddenly felt the danger you were in, in the jaws of a god as Hiromi's eyes turned up to you, settling on your neck. His eyes stayed fixed, his mouth puckering around the bite wound on your thigh, sucking just once before sealing the wound with a trembling tongue.

"...I'm going to fuck you, now." Hiromi stated, blunt, in warning, as he crawled back up your body. His cockhead grazed over your folds, and Hiromi grasped himself, lining his cock up with your fluttering core. "And you'll stay still...or I...I can't...you'll get hurt."

You couldn't possibly have refused at this stage. Hiromi was possessed by something stronger than himself, and you yearned to heal the fractured core of him. Grasping your wrists in one of his hands, and pressing them above your head, Hiromi coiled one hand in your hair, tilting your neck to the side.

You felt the insistent press of his cock filling you, as his teeth punctured your skin. You jolted, crying out, and Hiromi snarled against you, gripping you tighter. Hiromi felt the hot, salty, copper tang of your blood flooding his tongue, and his hips took on a life of their own. He slammed into you, again, and again, tasting your delicious little squeaks, bound beneath him with no means of escape. The human core of him was disgusted; the monster relished every second.

Allowing his otherworldly bliss to roll over you again, Hiromi felt you go languid and supple, your pussy clenching involuntarily around the bullying pace of his cockhead against your belly. Breathless moans muffled into your neck, interspersed with his gulps. Hiromi burst with adoration for you, and how well you were taking him. He had never felt so alive.

Hiromi felt your pulse fluttering in your wrists, and, convinced it was growing weaker, released your throat with a whine and a gasp, pressing his tongue against you again to seal the wounds. Hesitating only briefly, Hiromi fucked into you harder, faster, crimson dripping down his chin, dopey and lovesick. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing a bloody kiss to your cheek, feeling his orgasm creep up his back. His fingers plaited with your own above your head.

You were his, completely, happy to be used. The fervent thrust of his blunt, leaking cockhead against your sweet spot, his sandy whispers and gasps-- "...the best fucking medicine...I swear to god-- keep me forever, please, shit-- cum inside you, gonna cum inside you-- fffuck--" -- and the waves of Hiromi's strange, floral aphrodisiac, sent you tumbling over the edge again. Hiromi cursed, moaning, to feel you clench, writhing and arching beneath him, your cries rising in pitch as Hiromi fucked into you with total abandon, mesmerised by you.

"--more more moremoremore please-- Hiromi-- don't stop--"

Hiromi gritted his teeth, drawing himself out for as long as he could. Feeling the pummel and stretch of his cock inside you, slick and wet, set your eyes rolling back. When you bit into Hiromi's shoulder, he broke, buckling onto his elbows with a roar. His second orgasm blinded him, his balls emptying in violent contractions, thick white seed filling your belly and cunt in long, agonisingly pleasurable spurts. Hiromi swore, cursing and convulsing, crushing your body beneath his.

By the time Hiromi's vision returned, he was more human than he'd felt in months, as if giving into the monster was the only thing keeping him at bay. You floated back down to earth with him, feathersoft, on your bed of meadowsweet. A faint blush spread across Hiromi's nose at the sight of you, fucked-out, messy and spread beneath him.

"...I understand we have some important things to talk about," Hiromi said, bizarrely formal for a man whose cock was still inside you, "and I understand if you don't want to see me again after this, so we can organise a public date and time--"

Hiromi's voice muffled, still trying to talk as you pulled him to you by his tie, shutting him up with a kiss.

[chocoshrooms]

Oh my lord I loveyour general hcs!! Can we get some for Liu?? Pls

:: LIU WOODS GENERAL HEADCANONS ::

• i do not own the image above •

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:; liu has shoulder length light brown hair. his hair is very well kept and soft to the touch! he doesn’t do anything special to his hair either, no buns or ponytails unless if necessary, he leaves it as it is. but when he does pull his hair back on some occasions (if it’s really hot or keeps getting in his way), it frames the sides of his face perfectly

:; liu has the cutest button nose! his nose is the perfect shape and fits his face

:; his eyes are a pretty mossy green, but can change to different shades of green depending on the environment. but when Sully is in control his eyes are way darker and are a more grassy color, or a darker brown

:; liu has stitches across his right cheek, over his nose, and onto his left cheek. he also has stitches in a “jeff the killer” style around his mouth. unlike his brother though, liu keeps his stitches neat and clean, hoping one day his face will heal up completely. when nervous he does tend to pick at the stitches though, and Sully prevents any healing from happening since he likes to recut the stitches when in control sometimes. while eyeless jack stitches liu back up, he doesn’t question why they’ve been reopened, he just gets to work while liu sits silently.

:; liu also has scars on his hands, arms, chest, and some around his neck. most are faded scars but some are stitched up from constant reopening by Sully. they are the reason why liu tends to only wear long sleeves and keeps his scarf on around his neck!

:; you rarely see liu in a short sleeve, really never honestly. he’s very insecure about his scars, they remind him of so much hate. he’s usually bundled up in a hoodie or a long sleeve like stated before. his iconic scarf means a lot to him! it’s kind of like when a baby carries around their favorite stuffy or blanket, he always has it on him

:; he uses bandages a lot to cover his scars, sometimes sally will put colorful bandaids over his hands and halfway up his arms (he pulls his sleeves up for her) and he keeps them on for a while

:; liu has a lot of trauma built up inside of him. honestly, he could be more insane than his brother jeff with how much hurt he carries around

:; liu is taller than jeff, much to jeff’s disappointment. liu finds it funny

:; liu’s “other side” sully is more similar to jeff. a troublemaker, mean, snarky, and very rude. he’s even rude to liu, always downing him and making fun of him.

:; “you’re such a crybaby. suck it up, everyone has a sappy story like you.” , “no one will love you looking like this.” , “you’re pathetic.” , “like the new scar i gave you? matches the rest of your ugly skin.”

:; it’s very easy to tell when sully has taken over and best to avoid liu for a period of time just so you don’t get your feelings hurt

:; liu has his ears pierced. on the right ear he has the lobe twice, orbital, industrial, and forward helix. on the left ear he has the lobe twice, double helix beside eachother, another orbital, and daith! he keeps hoop-like earrings in all piercings besides the lobes on both sides, they’re just simple black circular earrings.

:; liu also has a nose piercing and a side labret but constantly looses the jewelry so he’s mostly seen without them!

:; he definitely wants more piercings but hasn’t put much thought into getting more just yet

:; he also wears rings on his fingers! most are just black banded rings but some have little writings on them he carved himself

:; liu is typically really quiet and keeps to himself, he doesn’t speak unless spoken to unless he’s comfortable around someone. he (of course) still speaks to jeff though (forced to by jeff honestly) but he’s usually just mumbling a conversation back while jeff rambles away. sully on the other hand bumps heads with jeff, they have started plenty of fights with eachother

:; liu has put the past behind him and tried to forget everything jeff did to him. that’s what’s worked for him for now at least. he tries not to think about it and lets jeff know he forgives him, but deep down he does have a hatred for his brother for destroying his life. he spends so much time wishing everything went differently

:; other creeps liu tends to talk to are the more quiet like him. he usually hangs around helen, puppeteer and jane, but speaks to eyeless jack when he’s around too. he doesn’t have anything against other creeps, he’s just more kept to himself!

:; liu spends most his time outside in the garden or in his room reading books, doodling, or writing music.

:; liu is definitely more feminine than most. he’s not into most of the things other creeps are into. he reads a lot of romance novels and mostly doodles animals and plants. he likes butterflies, frogs and lilly pads a lot

:; i’m sure he has a pet frog somewhere in his room and breeds butterflies from his bedroom window!

:; he does not work out but is still pretty strong. he just uses his weight efficiently when getting into a tussle. sully on the other hand, thinks he’s the strongest of the mansion. which ends with a lot of bruises and stitches

:; liu can also bake very well and is the best at making different casseroles! but he does not cook for anyone besides himself. and when he does, he’s away from the mansion so he can be alone

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THANK YOU so much for the request! i’m glad you’re liking the hc’s! <3 i do not write for liu only because i don’t know his character very well, so i hope i didn’t change him too much! i will read up more on him so i’ll be able to add him to my list that i’m confident in writing for! if you have more requests, <anyone> be welcome to send them my way! :) thanks for reading!!

[fireflysummers]

-squinting at the computer-

I swear I posted these on here, and yet I can’t seem to find any record of them.... huh. Weird.

Well, if I already posted them here, you get to see them again! They’re all little gift chibis.

Farming Game NPC by @steemie​

Pumpkin by @petite-pumpkin​

Three snow leopard fursonas by @/cunning-aesthete and @/SnepFerret on twitter

Dexis by @b4kuch1n​

Sparkedog by @kreftropod​

Commissions are very open right now!

[Image ID: Seven characters in chibi style. In order they are 1) Creepy character wearing a mud-soaked cloak pulled up over their head and long, seaweed-like hair. Their face is hidden behind another chipped mask, with only their void-like eyes and slash for a mouth. They are carrying a string of similar empty-eyed masks. 2) Cute character with a jack-o-lantern pumpking for a head. She’s smiling, and wears a frilly pink outfit with a large bow on the front. Her arms and hands are long green leaves. 3) A pastel-goth furry creature. It has a longer, skeletal face, complete with fangs, but all other parts of it are a fluffy pastel pink and blue color scheme. Its hands and feet both have claws, and its long, fluffy tail seems to have a mouth of its own. 4) A magical anthro snow leopard character; she is wearing pink lingerie with gold adornments that match her multiple ear piercings. Half her face is obscured by soft pink bangs, and her tail is split in two, with each ending in a purple flame. 5) A magical feral snow leopard character with large eyes, rainbow patterning, a thick white mane, and a pair of bat-like wings. Most of the character is obscured with his extra long, fluffy tail, which he holds in his mouth cutely. 6.) A mostly humanoid robot character whose exposed pieces are gold, black, and white. Their head-piece suggest vaguely at a nose or eyes, but their face plate is otherwise blank. They are dressed for a dry environment, wearing brown baggy pants and a red scarf-belt, as well as a brown neck-scarf. 7.) A sparkledog character with a long nose and sharp, smiling teeth. Its eyes can’t be seen under a shock of orange hair, but the protruding ear is decorated in multiple piercings. Their natural colors seem to be gray, black, and white, decorated with a shock of neon patterns. Their fluffy gray tail is decorated with a bow, and they wear a multitude of neon bracelets around all four legs.]

[arklayraven]

texture, canvas and favorite :O

Thank you for the ask! 💜 (some of these facts might change in time fyi pff)

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

For Jayce, they are fine with cloths that are lightly lose and comfortable to wear. As long as it doesn't make them itchy or hot, as well restricted from movement. They are good.

For Ambrose, he's more about wearing more tightly fitted clothes. Clothing that might make the typical person super warm or uncomfortable, but for him it makes him feel nice and cozy.(perhaps because of his vampiric blood lol)

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Jayce has scars on their neck because of Belphie because of the INCIDENT, which they try to hide with any neck covering they can use/find. As of lately the most they use is pink scarfs and such given to them by Asmo. (Though if they lost that stuff or got damaged while traveling to the past in NB. Solomon will give them a new one, that is fitting to him personally instead...)

Jayce has piercings but nothing too much. Just basic ear piercing on each ear. Though they don't wear earrings as much anymore.

As for markings, pact marks are a given, but for Jayce, the only one most visible(by choice, I like to imagine some pact marks can be hidden to others), if lucky to see that is. Is Asmodeus' pact mark with them. Still deciding on the position of it but its either on their chest, over the heart area, or below their waist.

Ambrose has a bite mark scar left behind from the moment he was changed into a full vampire. He doesn't bother to hide it, but its usually hidden naturally by the clothes and stuff he wears.

Ambrose has multiple piercings, which change often throughout time. Usually ear piercings, but has tried lip, tongue, eyebrow and nose piercings too.

Ambrose both has a tattoo and pact mark, on his back...It's a Seal of Agreement he made with Solomon. Magically created, but more everlasting than any typical tattoo. Solomon has one matching with him too btw, but its smaller and less noticeable compared to Ambrose's.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

For Jayce, its anything Asmo gives to them. Could range from clothes, to little things like necklaces and the such. They usually wear them often. Though in NB, wears them rarely openly as before, to not draw in too much attention. But you might find them occasionally lightly fidgeting with their scar, bracelet, etc, they are wearing. Whenever nervous/stressed, but touching/playing with it helps them feel a sense of comfort again, as if Asmo is there with them in the moment.

For Ambrose, it's a necklace given to him by his late mother. He keeps it hidden but he wears it all the time.

oc asks: character design edition

[taramemberence]

The Heart Line: COC 2022 MASTERPOST

All my chapters are actually all in the same spot, but I think having a list of them all with summaries would be better. That way there'd actually be a reason to click on a fic with no summary on ao3.

Day 1: The End

"This can't be the end."

Set after WS and before AWTWB. Simon is stuck to the sofa.

the rest of the descriptions are under the cut. the ones highlighted in pink are my personal favorites.

Day 2: AU - The Tingly Thing

"Don't tell them about the tingly thing."

Spider-Man meets Fangirl meets Carry On. A rewrite of the scene in No Way Home where MJ and Ned summon two different Peter Parker's.

Day 3: Expectations

"Still, Aunt Fiona keeps provoking him, and he keeps taking the bait, and the car is still sitting in the driveway, and neither of them can seem to see that I'm about to be back in that coffin again."

Simon finds out about the rule about who is allowed to sit in the front seat, and Baz has a panic attack.

Day 4: Cake

"We see smoke coming out of the oven again."

Simon and Penny make multiple attempts to bake Baz a cake for his birthday.

Day 5: Bloodlines

"If he never does it again, I want this to be the one good memory."

Baz finds himself at his mother's grave, feeling lost and suicidal. Simon finds him.

Day 6: Side/Alternative Ship - A World Without You

"Whatever happened between us, I'm going to need him to look past it and come back to me. I don't want to live a life without him."

Baz has a nightmare where Simon never survived America and he ended up staying there with Lamb.

Day 7: Veil - Love Me And Let Go

"I was the only one cursed to this life. Everyone I've ever loved and cared for is gone."

Simon has passed away, Visiting Baz every twenty years when the Veil lifts.

Day 8: Lyrics - End Game

"I wanna be your endgame," I tell him. He lifts his head, and his sleepy eyes meet mine.

"Simon, you already are."

Simon tries to analyze lyrics to a Taylor Swift song, and Baz is just trying to sleep.

Day 9: Staff

"I've insisted that it's probably just a product of growing older, but he disagrees. He's convinced that he's dying."

Simon takes a trip to the Wing and Knee specialist.

Day 10: Angst

"Shut up, Baz! Stop it!" He cries. This isn't enough. I'm not doing enough. Please Simon, forgive me later. Please.

Baz hurts Simon in order to save himself.

Day 11: WLW - Keep

"She's wrapping her arms around me, rocking me from side to side."

Fiona comes out to Baz and Simon.

Day 12: Devour

"I'm cold. He keeps insisting that it's warmer in the water, but I don't think I believe him."

Simon and Baz go on vacation together, and Baz has been lying about feeding. He hasn't fed.

Day 13: Devotion

"He pulls back and checks my face, wiping under my eyes again, hiding the evidence that I ever cried tonight."

All Baz wants to do is dance with his boyfriend at his father's New Year's party.

Day 14: Cryptid

"I kept insisting that I wasn't insane. Baz said I'm not insane."

Simon starts to have hallucinations.

Day 15: Fluff

"I wake up to Simon licking my face."

Snowbaz being cute and lazy in bed.

Day 16: Bridge

"I like myself better, knowing I'm carrying a part of him with me everywhere I go."

A continuation of chapter 13, but can stand alone. Simon pays attention to Baz's nose.

Day 17: Match

"I think I still have yet to find something that I wouldn't do for him."

Simon and Baz wear matching Christmas sweaters.

Day 18: Shepherd

"Shepard, of course, thought it was a brilliant idea. He's a complete buffoon, just like Simon."

Simon and Shepard dress as shepherds.

Day 19: Heal

"I gently touch his shoulders where his skin isn't mangled. I rub my fingers over his soft skin, leaning in to press a kiss there."

Baz still has bullets in his chest, so Simon does his best to take care of him.

Day 20: Fangs

"I'd bite my hand to stifle the sounds I'm making, but my fangs have dropped and I don't want to pierce my skin."

Every year, Baz has nightmares on the night of his mother's death.

Day 21: First Snow

"He puts his scarf back, covering my nose and mouth again. His face is red. I don't think it's because of the cold."

Simon and Baz go for a walk in the snow.

Day 22: Ritual

"The Mage carries me to my bed and sets me down, leaving without a word. It's okay. The look on his face is more than enough."

The Mage sends Simon on another mission only for Baz to pick up the pieces when he comes home.

Day 23: Hurt/Comfort - Bottom Of The Ocean

"I'd never leave you," I promise him softly, "even if it took me out with you, I would never let you die alone."

Simon and Baz are caught in a battle that leads to a fight for Baz's life under the water.

Day 24: Showers

"He makes it better. Even though I’m not feeling better, he makes it better."

Baz is in the shower when all the memories catch up to him.

Day 25: Sleep

"I can just break his heart while he hears how broken I am. I'll let him decide if he wants to try and fix me afterward."

A nightmare wakes Baz from his sleep.

[foreverrogers]

bittersweet

Pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

Summary: peter and his coworker break a couple health codes in the walk-in

Warnings: peter parker is an idiot who does not know how to make coffee or manage his emotions, unprotected sex, the defilement of a walk-in fridge

Words: 3.2k

A/N: for @spidervee 's April for AU's writing party!! cannot lie this one... had made me very hot and bothered and i'm kinda obessessed with it. p.s. if i have wildly underestimated the deadliness of a walk-in fridge please do not tell me

request something! masterlist

The first time Peter meets you, you're 15 minutes late for your interview. For his interview, that is, the one you're supposed to be holding in order to figure out whether or not he was qualified to make coffee at your little corner cafe. (Spoiler alert, he was not.)

Peter's been sitting here for 15 minutes, watching the barista at the counter handle the steady flow of patrons solo, trying his best not to bounce his leg under the table so violently it pulls the bolts out of the concrete.

The ring of the entrance bell draws his attention to you, sunglasses slipping down your nose, clad in a black trench coat and thick knit scarf protecting you from the impending New York Winter outside. He can guess it's you by the trenta Starbucks up your holding precariously by the lid, messy scrawl of your name recognisable as who he knew to be the manager of the store.

"You have a visitor," The other barista, known only by her name tag as Gwen, states, doesn't look up from her position behind the coffee machine.

Peter watches you squint before pushing your sunglasses up with two fingers. You make eye contact through the opaque plastic. "Oh, shit." You pull off your glasses as you start towards him, toss them haphazardly into your tote as you hook one boot behind the leg of your chair to pull it back. He moves to stand up, remembers the manners May had taught him, is stopped halfway when you hold up your hand. "Oh, please, you don't need to. I'm so sorry, by the way, I thought this was happening on Monday."

"It, um..." Peter trails off a little, doesn't quite know how to match the energy in front of him, watches you take a long swig from your cup. "It is Monday."

"That, uh, yeah." You sigh heavily, set down your cup and move to shuffle out of your coat. "I'm sorry, it was a rough weekend. Why don't we just take that one again? My name is Y/n, it's great to meet you."

Peter thinks you might only hire him because you feel bad about his interview.

It's either that or literally nobody else applied for the job, because if his resume didn't make it glaringly obvious, Peter Parker had never made a good cup of coffee in his life.

"What'd'ya got?"

You're standing next to him, one leg crossed over the other as you lean against the counter with your hands on your hips and you're grinning— grinning like this is not so secretly your favourite part of the job, seeing the hopeless look on the faces of college students when confronted with an industrial coffee machine.

It doesn't help that the heat hasn't fully kicked in and it's freezing in the store, and the radiating yellow light is a piercing contrast to the early morning darkness he had walked through to get here. That, and Peter had been out patrolling until 2am.

"Literally nothing."

You try and fail to conceal your laugh, push yourself away from the counter to walk towards him. "Ok, you watch first and then try."

Peter definitely watches. He's a little memorized if he's being honest, the sure deftness of your movements, the inexplicable grace of it, has to snap himself out of his trance every time you turn to make sure he's paying attention.

In a matter of minutes, there's a cup of coffee in your hands, perfect foam heart and all. "Got it?"

"Probably not."

You're still smiling, move to pick up the portafilter on the counter. "Give it your best and I'll only judge you a little, promise."

The furthest Peter gets is successfully not dropping the instrument when you pass it to him, turns towards the machine and immediately freezes, eyebrows set in a perpetual confused pinch.

"Okay, sure, hey. It took me like a month to get the hang of this thing, don't stress."

He feels it before he really registers it, the warmth of your hand slipping over his as you guide him towards the counter. You lean over him to reach for a scoop of grounds, arm brushing over his chest and you're so close he can smell you. Not in a creepy way, just in a proximity kind of way, in the way you smell like coffee, but only the sweetness and none of the bitterness, earthy and deep and caramel.

He thinks that this is bad, what's he's signed up for here, with you, with your hands around his and his brain short circuiting at the contact, immediately forgets almost everything you show him because he's too busy trying not to tremble.

It's a situation that teaches him three very important lessons.

Lesson number one: the universe is conspiring against him.

That's the only logical reason that after a week of skirting around you he finds out you're only a year above him at Empire State, and every subsequent Tuesday and Friday commute from work to school is done together.

As in, a 20 minute walk and a subway trip alone, side by side, just the two of you, and there's only so much you can talk about the shittiest customers 6am had to offer before you inevitably have to talk about yourselves. Peter has to know you and work with you, a set of circumstances which only exacerbates the little tug in his chest he feels every time he sees you.

Lesson number two: the universe is downright fucking with him.

It's a slow afternoon, a store front filled to the brim with empty chairs as Gwen tries to walk him through the till for the dozenth time.

"Oh, hey, turn it up!" You're behind them, suddenly, flick your dishcloth at Gwen until she reaches under the counter to grab the TV remote with a groan.

You slot between them, forearms propped against the counter as you look eagerly up into the television where the newest of Spider-Man's late-night antics were being dramatically displayed.

He's never seen you like this, your regular witty, almost aloof exterior waived for the enamoured expression you adopt, eyes wide and mouth hanging in a slight gape, all because of him. It doesn't matter that you don't know it's him— he still counts it, or at least his ego definitely does.

"Y/n has a crush on Spider-Man," Gwen tells him, looks over with a roll of her eyes.

"Shut up, I do not have a crush on Spider-Man." You flick her with the cloth again, don't get in much damage since your eyes are still glued to the screen. "I just don't think he gets enough credit for all the good that he does around here."

Gwen snorts, crosses her arms. "Like you wouldn't try to jump his bones if you ever met him in real life."

It was cruel, the way you glance at him when you turned around like you knew. Like you knew it was him, knew what it would do to him. You look back at Gwen, meet her with a sly smile. "What? Maybe a little seduction is just repayment for always saving the city."

Therein lies lesson number three: the universe is fucking sadistic.

It's only 8pm, but this deep into Winter there's nothing but pitch black beyond the windows of the back room.

You've somehow convinced Peter to help you do stock take— or, rather, you had asked, and it was impossible for him to say no to you. Either way, it's 8pm and it's dark and it's cold, and you're both clad in heavy coats as you stare at the contents of the walk-in fridge, clipboards in hand.

There's a faint thrum of the music you've put on in the background, but otherwise everything is smothered by the blearing of the fans above you, drowns out so much that neither of your hear the scrape of the chair holding open the door until it's too late.

The sudden thud behind you makes you jump.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Peter turns then, follows the line of your slack expression to the see the sealed door of the walk-in. "That's... not good."

You discard your clip board onto one of the shelves, start a frantic pat down of your body until he hears you start to swear under your breath. "Fuck, I left my phone outside. Do you have yours?"

He mimics your movements, runs his hands over his sides and searches every pocket twice before resurfacing, bares his empty hands.

"Fuck." You look between him and the door a couple times, breath clearly picking up with the quickened rise and fall of your chest.

"Gwen'll be in for prep at 4, right?"

You ignore him, start toward the door, try to no avail to slip your fingers between the sturdy rubber seal. "Fuck!"

Peter watches you pace the length of the fridge, hands on your hips, and consciously considers his two options.

He could pry the door open, subsequently`ending up revealing something he's not exactly willing to tell you just yet, or he could stay here, with you, ostensibly trapped in a walk-in together for the next eight hours.

"I guess we're locked in until then."

You turn to him, frown set as you sigh. "Well, at least we're not gonna starve to death." You collapse against the floor, sit with your back firmly against the shelves as you reach for a bag of shredded cheese.

*****

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with... uh... M."

You turn towards him, find your faces only inches apart in this position you've migrated to, legs tucked to your chests as you sit with your arms pressed together. "If it's milk I already did milk like twenty minutes ago."

"It's not milk."

"Is it a type of milk?"

"That's not how I Spy works."

You sigh, puff your cheeks out with it as you scan the contents of the fridge. "Muffins," You say after a moment, point to the low basket of stale baked goods above you.

"You're way too good at this game."

You hum a laugh, smile as you tilt your head in search of your next object. The tilt leans itself a little too easily to resting your head on his shoulder, and you're too cold and too tired to resist the thought.

Peter looks at you, holds his breath as he takes in the slow rythym of your breath and the warm pressure on his shoulder, the light shudder of your jaw against him. You still smell like coffee, the sweet bite of it cutting through the sterile musk of the fridge. "You're cold."

You laugh again, still don't move to pull away. "No shit, it's like 35 degrees in here."

He does it wordlessly, starts to shift underneath you, forces you upright as he shrugs of his coat.

"Don't be ridiculous, Parker."

"Don't worry," He smiles, that wide, bright, genuine smile that you've been reluctant to admit heats up your insides a little. His coat is in his hands, and he slowly drapes it around your shoulders, swallows you up in the heavy material you hug close. It smells like him, like burnt coffee. "I, uh, run hot."

There's that little tug again, deep in his chest as you watch each other, but this time it's not so little, makes him want to lurch forward with a magnetic force so powerful it almost hurts. You gulp, your voice breathy and whisper quiet when you speak next. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, uh- How do I-"

"And you always do that, too," You start, ignore his stumbling and poke him lightly in the cheek where he's since used up vital body heat to flush. "Blush whenever I notice you staring."

"Sorry," He mumbles, dips his head to hide the impossibly deepening hue of his cheeks.

"It's okay," You laugh, and then there's one finger under his chin, the coolness of your skin meeting inexplicable heat of his. You tilt his face back up towards yours. "It's only creepy some of the time."

You don't pull away, even as he's looking you in the eye and smiling lightly and you try to comprehend how one person can look so adorable when they blush. You tell yourself it's the heat.

And there's definitely heat involved, a collision of it when you both lean in at the same time and his mouth is on yours, hot and open and sweet.

Cold hands come up to frame your face and then you're in his lap in a heatbeat, the coat around your shoulders pooling over his shins, arms around his neck and fingers tangling into his hair.

"You're warm," You mumble, slip the words quietly between kisses, makes him smile against you before he's pulling away to look up at you.

"Told you I run hot," He smiles, feels you hum when he leans up to kiss along the line of your jaw.

"I can think of a way we can get a little warmer."

Peter pulls away to look at you, keeps you in place with one hand on your cheek as the other arms wraps firmly around your waist. "You sure?"

"Yes, please," You mutter, breathless, kiss him as your hands move down to work open the button of your jeans.

It seems counterintuitive, to start undressing when you're trapped in the cold. But then again, sharing body heat was good for that sort of thing.

Bare skin meets the harsh cool air, but Peter's never felt anything as hot as your palm pressing against him through his boxers.

You hum again, seemingly satified, press curved lips to his. "It's always the shy ones."

He opens his mouth to ask, is immediately cut off by your hands slipping under the band of his boxers and then you're touching him, makes him gasp into you mouth as you slowly stroke him.

The whining moan he lets out is enough to make you clench around nothing, warmth rushing to your lower half as he bucks into your touch. "God, you're pretty."

"Pretty sure that's-" You're still stroking the length of him, jolts of pleasure running up his spine that make him curl his toes in his shoes and momentarily forget how to speak. "Pretty sure that's my line."

"Both can be true," You smile, and then your hand is gone, leaves him cold and aching as you move to pull aside your panties.

You kneel up, use your free hand to tilt his face up to kiss him and he takes the hint, takes himself in his hand to line up with your entrance as you settle back down.

There's a flood of warmth as you start to sink onto him, the sharing of hot breath as mouths open over the other.

It somehow feels too hot, like he needs to start ripping off the layers still covering his upper half and feel the bare skin of your chest against his.

"How does that feel?" You're looking at him, breathing heavy, eyebrows pinched lightly together, ask for permission before moving.

"Pefect," He breathes, and then he's leaning up, kisses you swollen. "Fuck, you feel perfect."

There's already sweat sticking the material of your sweater to your back as soon as you start moving, slow at first, ease the pace until his hand is slipping from your waist to your hip and encouraging the rock of your body.

It makes your knees ache, cold against the harsh plastic floor, but you can't really think about that when everything else drowns it out, the stretch of him filling you up and the nudge of his cock against your g-spot with every descent and the friction of your bodies.

"God, Pete. Fuck."

His grip on you is tighter now, fingers digging into the flesh of his hips as he starts to meet your movements with his own thrusts.

Your own grip shifts upwards, slips around his throat so you can tilt his head to the side and kiss up his neck and along his jaw, savour the sharper jerks of his hips every time you sink your teeth in to nip at the soft skin.

He feels the rush of warm air against the shell of his ear when he slips his hand between you, presses his thumb to your clit to start rubbing tight circles.

And it could be the cirumstances, the spontaneous flurry of action that's brought you here, or the fact that he's been fantasizing about this moment for months of lonesome late nights, or a steady culmination of everything leading up to this, but Peter can't deny the sudden tightening low in his stomach.

"Gonna cum," He mutters, nudges his nose against your chin as he looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows knit taut. "Need to cum so bad, y/n, fuck. Feels so fucking good."

The words alone are enough to make you flutter around him, pick up the rocking of your hips as you kiss him hard, lean in to speak with your lips brushing over his. "Want me to tell you to cum inside of me? That what you want, sweetheart? Wanna fill me up?"

"Yes," He whispers, breathless, looks you right in the eye as he asks. "Please- fuck, please let me cum inside you."

The movement of his thumb over your clit is faster now, pushes you closer and closer to the edge until you're so busy breathing in quick, stuttered gasps that finding the words to answer him becomes almost impossible.

"'M right with you, baby. Want you to cum for me."

Everything is sticky and laboured and hot, a pocket of overwhelming heat in the middle of this fridge as Peter stills inside you, warms you from the inside out as you come apart around him, fingers tight in his hair and digging into his shoulder.

You're chests are still heaving, arms tightening around your waist, breathing laughs into sloppy kisses as you lean your forehead against his.

You hardly have time to cool down before there's a sound from somewhere outside, a heavy metallic thud that makes you both widen your eyes and jolt away from each other in a rush to redress.

"You know this is the third-" Gwen stops dead in her tracks, gapes a little at the sight of you and Peter on the floor, frantically buttoning your jeans. "You're both fucking disgusting."

"What are you-" You have to cough a little to clear your throat, shake you head and your shoulders loose to try and regain your composure. "What time is it?"

"It's midnight, I got an alert saying the alarm hadn't been set... I can't believe you two got locked in a fridge and your first instinct was to fuck."

"We, uh-" Peter's the one clearing his throat now, flushes bright red as he looks from you to Gwen. "We played I spy for like... two hours."

request something! masterlist

[yostresswritinggirl]

"He was a punk, she did ballet" but its cynilou and reader is trying to choose between the two before ultimately becoming a sweet lil trio

Imagine tho,,,, like cyno wears anything that falls out of his closet, meanwhile nilou is wearing the strawberry dress and ribbon sandals, and reader being the most normal person in the middle where nilou helps them make up a cute outfit in the department store while cyno is...glaring menacingly at anyone who stares + offers his huge jacket when either of them are cold

He was a punk, she did ballet, they're a disaster

Fueling my Cynilou heart once again

I would love love love if the Reader is actually a fashion disaster instead hahaha or even just does not have a sense of fashion whatsoever, and so either Cyno or Nilou picks their outfit everytime when they started dating, or they just lend you their wardrobe because your clothes aren't matching at all. Nilou is also there to take care of your self-care needs, like charcoal nose strips and face masks, cucumber slices on the eyes. Your flawless queen won't let her lovers skip spa days, even tho at times it ends with you and Cyno throwing the slices at each other.

OMG what if on better days or during date days the trio forcibly matches like - remember Xiao's clothing line bane of all evil? Hell yeah, like that kind of matching. It's also cute that Cyno is the one looking out for them to the point that he makes sure to bring another article of clothing - like if its cold he has a jacket and a scarf on so that if the both of them are cold, they can take both. But then HE'S the one shivering so its up to his lovers to cuddle him tight.

Or if it's sunny, he has shades, a hat and an umbrella - gawd, imagine punk Cyno in all black and purple, piercings, a cold glare, and hanging by his elbow is a baby blue parasol with ribbons and lace. It's embarrassing, for sure, but it's for love.

If Tighnari or Alhaitham does see him and tease him for it tho - when you and Nilou come back, he's kneeling for forgiveness next to a broken umbrella.

[neoheros]

“sneak out.” suna tells you over the phone, saying nothing but that and hanging up.

at first you were confused, wondering if this was some stupid joke curated by your annoying best friend, but after a minute or two of waiting, a stone hits your window, and you thank every deity you believe in that it wasn’t strong enough to shatter it.

suna stands from the other side of the glass, an uninterested look matching your piercing glare, and it’s late in the evening — too late for either of you to be out of bed — but you come see him anyways.

which brings you here now — standing in front of him in your pajamas, the freezing cold weather turning your breath white, and you groan.

you look at suna, “you’re an idiot.”

and in return, he only hands you his inarizaki team jacket, and tells you, “put this on.”

you do as he says, telling him how he chose a bad night to pull this stunt. it’s freezing cold, the streets are deserted, and too late for either one of you to be out here on your own.

“i got you something.” suna interrupts your complaints, handing you a brown paperbag with the words ‘happy new year!’ on the sides of it.

you blink, “it’s june.”

and he tells you, “do you want it or not?”

you roll your eyes, eager to take the bag anyways, and in the snow, in his jacket, you peer into its content with your smile reaching your eyes.

“no way!” you fawn over the pretty gift suna just gave you, stars in your gaze, and you look up at him, “where did you find these?”

he shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “found them online.”

“i’ve been looking for these forever.” you tell him, breath turning white as you speak.

and suna tells you, ears red, “i know.”

he’s been looking for them too. ever since you told him about it, he’s been scouring every mall and marketplace in town to get them for you.

you look at him, noticing how he stares back at you, “what is it?”

and suna shakes his head, “nothing.”

he can’t say what he wants to say yet.

and suna knows it’s risky; trying to wait for a right time to tell you how he feels, but even he’s still confused about it, and he only wants to tell you when he’s absolutely sure that you feel the same way too.

so please, in the meantime, whilst the two of you are still friends and just that, he hopes, begs, and wishes, that you don’t let anyone beat him to it.

please don’t fall in love with somebody else.

“thanks for this.” you tell him, inching a bit closer to his side despite the snowy ground.

suna nods, bringing his scarf up higher to cover the blooming redness in his cheeks and nose, partially from the cold, partially from you.

he looks at his feet, “i’ll let you go back inside.”

he’s scared to say anything else, scared to say he’ll accidentally let something slip out, so he figured he ought to just let you go now.

“did you walk here?” you look at him, turning to face his side.

and he raises a brow, “huh?”

“no car?” you ask again, gesturing to the empty snowy sidewalk with your hands in your pockets.

there’s a flush of redness reaching his ears, a tiny smile he can’t help so he hides under a scarf, and he nods.

suna shakes his head, “no car.”

he walked four blocks in the snow, with nothing but a jacket and a scarf, just to see you, and for all it’s worth, he still thinks it’s worth it.

“you really are an idiot.” you punch his arm lightly, and he’s comfortable with the fact that you say this with a smile.

he rolls his eyes, “just go back inside.”

it’s late, too late for either one of you to be out of bed, but it’s snowing, and you’re so close to him, and suna can’t ever imagine how it’d be like to be happy liking someone else.

you’re the only person he’d do this for.

he turns to walk away, snow crunching under his shoes with every step, and he lets out a huge breath he didn’t even realize he was holding onto.

“i don’t have to,” you call out to him, shoulders cold under the weather, and you say, smiling when you see him turn back, “yet.”

he looks at you, “it’s late.”

“yeah, but,” you look to the side, “we can sit here for a while before you go.”

his eyes widen a bit, surprised that you’d suggest that, surprised that you want to spend more time with a boring guy like him.

so with red ears and a few steps away, he stares back at you, cold weather and all, hands in his pockets, and he blinks, “okay.”

if you asked him to stay in this same spot forever, no matter how cold, he would probably do that too.

you’re under the snow with suna, and he won’t tell you he loves you, he’s not ready yet, but he loves you.

[ncttytrack]

Neo university - part 6 (smut)

Preview: His hands are much bigger than yours, making him look and feel much older than you, and he is always at least wearing two metal rings. You didn’t know hands were something you were so attracted to until you met Mark. You realize that he is the perfect guy to make you forget about Haechan. 

Pairing: Nct dream (mostly Haechan) x reader

Words: 2,1k

Warnings: corruption kink?, virgin kink?, size kink, y/n liking older boys (all legall) 

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A month has passed since the Haechan incident in the diner's bathroom. He has not talked to you since, and because of that, you have failed the school project. You want to be mad at Haechan for ignoring you, but you just can’t. Your heart already belongs to him, while his heart belongs to another girl. 

Even if he didn’t talk to you, that didn’t stop him from watching you everyday at school. You tried to ignore it but sometimes you couldn't help but to look back at him, making your eyes meet for a brief second before you turned your head away, embarrassed. 

“You have to stop thinking about Haechan, y/n. It’s not good for someone like you to be in love with someone like him” Chenle says, you and him walk from Neo university. You look down on the ground, resting your face on your scarf, the cold autumn breese making your nose freeze. “I'm not in love with him! I'm just a little hurt that he left  me in the diner bathroom all alone, wishing he could stay. I just wanted to have sex with him, thats all.” Chenle looks at you, with his hands in his pockets. He had only known you for around 3 months but already knew when you were lying.

“I know you are lying y/n”. You look at him knowing it’s true. Even if a big part of you really wanted to saythat all you wanted to do with Haechan was to have sex with him, you can’t lie and say that you didn’t want more. 

Without answering Chenle you just walk silently beside him in the cold weather, your feet stomping on fallen orange leaves. You have to move on, that’s what you are thinking about. The problem is that you just don’t know how, you have never been in a situation like this before! 

“Well, you could just, I don’t know, have sex with someone else everytime you want to have sex with Haechan”. You look at Chenle and realize that this boy is a goddamn genius. You don’t need Haechan, you are hot as fuck you can just go and fuck someone else! Isn’t that what everyone in movies is doing? Well, it does not work most of the time but you just have to give this idea a try. What could go wrong?

But now there is only one problem left. Who? You don’t know a lot of guys at Neo, and the ones you know of are a big nono for your part. You don’t know Jisung very well and it feels wierd to have sex with Chenles number one bestfriend, so not him. Chenle is just. No. You are way to good friends and sex is not going to ruin your stable friendship, so not him. You have only spoken to Renjun once, Jeno doesn't even know who you are and Jeamin is too much of a douchebag. So, who is left? 

Suddenly you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your and Chenles shoulders. “Wassup, what are you two doing” 

Oh. Its Mark. 

You haven't spoken to Mark since the first time you did. You look up at him. Mark has always been one of the boys at Neo university that you were really attracted to and everything about him matched perfectly with your secret sexual fantasies. He is wearing a black beane and his blonde-ish hair is sticking out of it and the cold weather is making his nose and cheeks red. His ears are pierced and he is wearing small silver hoop earrings and a dark gray hoodie under his black oversized bomber jacket. The jeans he is wearing are black and perfectly ripped and he is wearing Dr.martens. 

Dr. martens. 

Are you kidding me? That’s so dangerously hot. 

And to top it all off, the thing about him that is making your legs feel weak, your mouth water and your brain filled with dirty thoughts, is his hands. His hands are much bigger than yours, making him look and feel much older than you, and he is always at least wearing two metal rings. You didn’t know hands were something you were so attracted to until you met Mark. 

You realize that he is the perfect guy to make you forget about Haechan. 

Chenle looks at Mark, surprised by the sudden attack of his arms around his shoulder. Mark speaks up again, “I just wondered if you guys wanted to come to Jenos party this Saturday. A lot of people are going to be there and It's going to be amazing, you don’t wanna miss it. I promise. Don’t be a square” Chenle looks over at you, already knowing the thoughts you had in your brain earlier when you saw Mark. He looks back at Mark, “Yes we will be there”. 

Mark gives Chenle a big smile before turning towards you. “See you there”, before answering him, Mark walks away. 

You look at Chenle and he has a big grin on his face. “I think we just found your distraction”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Already super drunk from all the shots Renjun and Chenle made you take earlier is making you feel super dizzy while you dance in the middle of the crowd. The music from the speakers is so loud, that you can feel your heart beating to the music. The color pink, blue and purple is flashing everywhere from the discolights. You are wearing a tight black dress with a low cut in the front and you couldn't help but think about two boys while picking out the outfit. One of them completely ignoring you, and the other one being completely gone from this party.  

Outside in the backyard, a lot of people are jumping in Jenos pool . Some people are even so drunk that they have been convinced that they need to be naked if they want to jump in the pool. You know you drank too much tonight because your brain is barely functioning. The reason why is because you wanted to get more brave tonight so you could speak to Mark, and alcohol was the only option. Feeling like you are going to pass out, you decide to sit down on the sofa in the corner of the living room. You let your head back, breathing slowly in and out trying to sober up. You do not want to throw up tonight, then the ‘Mark plan’ will be completely destroyed. 

It’s the sudden weight change of the sofa that makes you look up to see who decided to sit besides you. To your surprise it’s Mark, giving you a lob-sided grin, obviously also being super drunk, like you. “So, what is a pretty girl, like y/n, doing by herself at a party like this? Did you have too much to drink” He says and lays one of his hands on your thighs. You let out a small yelp, quiet enough so only you hear it. You can’t believe that the plan may be working, you haven’t even done anything yet, except for wearing a revealing outfit. Were boys really this easy? 

You have to think of something smart to replay Mark, so he doesn't get bored. 

“Well, if you think I'm so alone, why not be my company, Mark?” You say and look up at him, trying to give him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. He licks his lips, the alcohol making it really hard for him to resist you. You suddenly get a good idea and wrap your arms around his neck, while feeling his arms going around your waist. 

“It’s just, you are making me so nervous, Mark. I have never talked to a boy your age before” e He lets out a low chuckle and looks away from you before looking at you again. His other hand caressing your bare thigh. Even though you and Mark had only talked to each other once, you had always found him attractive and always caught him looking at you in the hallways. 

“Why are you so nervous y/n? Do you think I am dangerous?” He says teasingly, liking how dominant he feels while talking to someone like you. You give him a smile and bite your lips while touching his hair, still having your arms around his neck. 

“If I’m going to be honest, then I think the dangerous feeling of talking to older boys, like you, is kinda hot”. 

You say to Mark teasingly, not noticing a jealous Haechan watching you both from a distance. Mark gives out a small groan, your words awakening something he never thought he would be into. He leaves your thigh from his grip and slides his hand up towards your waist, both of his hands holding it. Wow, you are so small, so fragile. He has never wanted to destroy and completely take over someone like this before. 

Because Mark hasn't answered you yet, too distracted with the last sentence you told him, you understood that the plan worked. 

You continue toying with his hair, “Because if you are older than me,” you sigh and bite your lips, “then you can like, destroy me”.

It’s impossible for you to not see the sudden change in Mark's eyes. His eyes are now dark, filled with lust. “What do you mean by that, baby?” He says and leans in towards you, making your lips barely touch.

“I think you know what I mean”

Before you know it, Mark has already placed his soft lips on your own. His lips taste like vodka and a little bit of smoke, making the feeling of making out with him euphoric. It feels like the whole world is surrounding you. Mark grabs your hips and lifts you up so you can sit on top of him. While feeling his tongue dance with yours, you have one of your hands on the back of his head, scratching his hair with your nails making him groan. Your other hand is now creeping up his shirt, feeling his toned back muscles. Both of his hands are on your hips until one of them goes down towards your inner thigh, giving it a small squeeze, making you gasp. 

He looks at you with a smirk and leans towards your ear, “Didn’t know a first year like you could be such a slut” 

His words only makes you more aroused. Already missing his lips on yours, you kiss him again. This time Mark has left his hand from your thighs and has it around your neck. The feeling of his cold metal ring touching the front of your neck is making you moan into the kiss, making Mark know that what he is doing is completely right. 

The make out session gets hotter and hotter every second, knowing you are doing it infront of everyone on the living room sofa and you let out another moan when you can feel his cock getting harder and harder every second when you are sitting on it. Making it impossible for you not to imagine how it would feel when he fucks the shit out of you, leaving you out of breath. 

Before you can grind down on his cock, you suddenly feel a hand on your arm pulling you away from Mark. “What the fuck!”, you say and turn around to see an angry Haechan looking at you. Mark, being too drunk to speak, just sits there and watches as you and Haechan look intensely at each other. Haechan doesn't say anything and just drags you to the side of the living room, with fewer people. You are still super drunk, swaying back and forth until Heachan grabs your shoulders, making you stand still. 

“Why the fuck are you making out with Mark?” he screams at you, upset. 

You look at him blankly, suddenly feeling more sober by the stupidity that comes from his month. “Why are you angry at me for making out with Mark, Haechan? You are not my fucking boyfriend, you can’t tell me what to do! You already have your stupid girlfriend, why don’t talk to her, why are you suddenlt talking to me? You ignored me for a MONTH making me fail my first ever school project at this university and now you are speaking to me because you are jealous?” Haechan just looks at you and you can see him turning more angry, if that's even possible. 

“Screw my fucking girlfrind I don’t care about her anymore!” you look at him. Is he a fucking idiot? If he didn’t like his girlfriend and didn’t care about her, wouldn't he break up with her? But, no. 

“You know what Haechan, I hate fucking you. Screw you”  you say and push his hand off from your shoulders, walking out of the house to the backyard. 

This time, you are the one leaving him alone. “Oh I know you do”.

[kiwikipedia]

Erron Black, acting mature? Not with Ciel Lloyd and Danver Hakka within general proximity of him. Kotal really should read those resumes before he hires people, now he has to deal with the three most chaotic Earthrealm-ers in all of Outworld. 

*Danver Hakka belongs to @purgetrooperfox | Variants, ID, and taglist below

[ID: An image of three characters drawn in a chibified style, all of them holding their hands in peace signs. The closest figure is Ciel Lloyd, they have darker blue hair tied back in a ponytail with two red clips holding their bangs back, paler skin than the other two, and two scars on their face one of which is on their left cheek, and one across the nose. Their expression is similar to an anime cat's expression with the 'w' or '3' mouth. They have two piercings under their lip and two in their ear. They don a neon green and dark blue coat with fingerless gloves that are black. Behind them in the middle of the group is Erron Black from Mortal Kombat 11. His hair is a grayish brown and covered up mostly by his cowboy hat which is a dark gray-brown with a red band and silver-gray accents. His eyes are disinterested and his face is mostly covered up by a mask with red and gray accents on them. He has a black scarf around his neck, a red puldron set with the top one having gray accents, a black vest over a blue shirt without sleeves, black gloves, and two bandoliers that are brown in color. One of his arms is behind Ciel's head making it look as if his second peace sign is giving them bunny ears. The final figure is Danver Hakka, whose eyes are closed and moth similar to that of a forward slash keystroke. His skin is dark, and his hair is black in color and shaved entirely on the sides and the remainder tied back in a bun. One hand is on Erron's shoulder, though the farthest one makes a peace sign like the other two. He also has fingerless gloves colored black and he wears clothes and light armor similar to Garett from the game 'thief'. It is colored in various blacks and grays and he has two straps and that cross his chest that are a lighter gray. On the side of his head where the hair has been shaved off he has dark green tattoos that are abstract and he has a cut through his left brow. Danver is mostly covered by Erron, as he is the backmost character. All three are outlined in hot pink and white with the words "The Kotal Crew" above them colored in the same hot pink with a white drop shadow. The C in 'Crew' has been replaced with a 'K' to match Mortal Kombat's pattern of spelling. The initial background is a bright yellow with an overlay of neon blue stars similar to what you might find in an old comic. Under the cut are three additional variants of the main image, all the same except for the background with the first being only the blue stars, the second being only the yellow background, and the third being without any background at all. The fourth image is of the trio only. /End ID]

Taglist:

@jedifisto @spaceydragons @purgetrooperfox @spacerocksarethebestrocks @insanelytomato @maulpunk @certified-anakinfucker @d3epfriedangels @iamthespacegeneral @thecodyagenda @dilf-archivist​ @txtalnyx​

Taglist Form or feel free to ask me to get tagged (just DM!)

Buy on Threadless

[b-u-g-g-y]

more very very very random marauders headcannons

Marlene picks flowers for Dorcas

James likes Hawaiian shirts

Sirius kisses Remus’s nose

Sirius can’t grow facial hair as a teenager

Dorcas has a septum piercing

Marlene cut her own bangs and they actually turned out good

Mary burns lavender candles in the girls dorm

James only had one eyebrow for half of third year due to a rather unfortunate potions accident

Sirius pets every dog he sees on the street

Remus is actually really fast

Sirius is ambidextrous

Regulus likes baby cows

James waves his hands around when he talks

Marlene speaks Spanish

Mary likes tulips

Peter is slightly pigeon toed

Sirius and Peter have a very long and elaborate secret handshake

Sirius holds the record amount of detentions in a year

No one can beat Peter at chess

Mary chews gum all the time

Marlene likes sour candy

Dorcas can play the cello

Marlene and Sirius share clothes

Mary sells muggle pens

Sirius cried the first time James called him his brother

Mary can’t handle spicy food

Dorcas and Remus like to make fun of people together

Lily wears flowy skirts

Remus and Lily started a book club

Hope knits all the marauders scarfs/hats/gloves every year for the holidays

Mary has a black cat

Peter was lowkey a drug dealer at hogwarts

Dorcas wears colorful eyeliner

Mary pierced Lily’s bellybutton

All the girls have matching tattoos

Lily’s favorite number is 19

Regulus is friends with all the house elfs

Peter always wears a watch his sister gave him

James is allergic to strawberries

Sirius likes to draw comics

Mary likes turquoise

Both Sirius and Lily are blanket hoggers

Remus can’t draw hearts

[wandsandwheezes]

My Protector | G. W

T/W ; mentions of mudblood, fighting, aggression, angst, SMUT (incl. oral - male receiving, fingering, sex, choking, thigh riding) drinking/mentions of alcohol

A/N - In honour of reaching 200 followers (I’m literally in shock) I wanted o to present you with my boy in the longest fic i’ve ever written (3.9k) - I hope you love it as much as I do 🧡

taglist (let me know if you want adding or removing) - @whiz-bangs78 @hufflepuffgirly @witch-and-a-half @theweasleysredhair @weasleysflowr @sarcasticallywitty15 @wand3ringr0s3

You hated this feeling, the heat of a hundred pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of your head. The decision to make things official with George was a massive step in your relationship. Months of sneaking around in hidden corridors, holding hands under tables and stealing kisses in the moonlight wasn't enough for the proud boy. It wasn't enough for you to just be his, he wanted people to know and more importantly wanted to make Malfoy know. 

The platinum haired boy had his eye on you the moment you stepped into the great hall on the evening of the Yule Ball, in a stunning baby blue gown that accentuated your gorgeous curls and perfectly done makeup. The one problem Malfoy had with you, however was that you were muggleborn. From that day on, he made your life a living hell. 

You took your seat in the great hall, across from Hermione, who was all too engrossed in the book she had her nose in, to notice that you and George had sat down. You immediately lent into his side, his arm slung around your shoulder. You had dazed off, and before you knee it, you had been absentmindedly staring over at the table of Slytherin boys for about five minutes. You hated the sight of him, Draco Malfoy was a smug prick who had nothing better to do to bide his time other than pick fun at other people. 

"Hey, Love are you alright?" George whispers sweetly in your ear, you nod and lean up to press a small kiss to his cheek, he gives you a reassuring squeeze before getting up, "I need to pee, plus I'm sure Fred's off getting himself into trouble." you grab his hand before he rushes off, pouting up at him, he chuckles a little, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaning to whisper in your ear. "I really won't be long, Princess, I promise."

Draco watched George leave with piercing eyes, before standing up nand grabbing Crabbe and Goyle by the backs of their robes to force them up also before making his way over to you, "Oh look, isn't it nice for the filthy mudbloods to all group together." he sneered, his harsh gaze never leaving you. Hermione scoffs, forcing her book closed, "Oh look, Is someone back to get punched again? I can arrange another broken nose for you, Malfoy, now shove off and find something better to do." 

Watching Hermione stand up to Draco every time he has something mean or hurtful to say was an amusing sight to see, but watching poor Malfoy run off with his tail between his legs was even funnier. "I don't know how you have the courage to stand up to him like that." you admit, grabbing a pastry from the platter, pulling a piece off to pop into your mouth. She smiles up at you, "You really get the confidence when you've already broken his nose once."

George returned back to you, with Fred behind him, In time to see Draco running out of the Great Hall, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. "What sent those foul gits running off?" fred jokes, filling up a cup with orange juice. "It was nothing, just Malfoy being precious about blood purity, as usual, I set him in his place" Hermione stated plainly, George squeezes your thigh under the table, causing you to look up at him, having a small conversation just in glances 'you okay?' you nod, arm linking around his before holding his hand that was on your thigh. 

It was an awful day for a quidditch match, it was thunderous and grey outside, each lightning strike made the whole pitch light up and erupt with roars of students supporting their teams. You were stood in the Gryffindor stalls, wrapped up in one of George's coats and a warm scarf, but not even the best outerwear could protect you from the torrential rain. 

The way the team played was absolutely phenomenal, Fred and George being star beaters as always had helped the team be up 30 points against slytherin. Harry and Malfoy were both nowhere to be seen, no doubt fighting over the golden snitch way above the low clouds that made the visibility during the match absolutely dreadful. 

Harry came barrelling down from the clouds, clutching the golden snitch in his hands, meaning that Gryffindor had won the match - news you were overjoyed to hear as now you could finally get into some warm clothing. You made your way down from the stands to the pitch where you'd promised George you'd meet him. 

"Good game, Harry! That Malfoy give you any issues above the clouds?" George joked, pulling Harry into a half hug before he was interrupted. "Seems you can't keep my name out of your filthy little mouth can you, Weasley?" Draco was storming over, clearly agitated by yet another slytherin loss to the Gryffindor team. "after all I'm not surprised, you have been fucking that mudblood Y/L/N for god knows how long, you don't know where that mouth has been."

"George, Leave it, let's go." Angelina turns the red haired boy away from the slytherin team, but Alicia, had already spoken up to fight your corner, "How dare you!" Harry pulls Alicia away before retaliating at the Slytherin boy "Go find someone else to inflate your ego" Draco laughs, slicking his wet hair back with his gloved hand "Finally grown a backbone have we, potter? Or did Mummy finally teach you to stand up for yourself… sorry my mistake, mummy's dead, isn't she?" 

This was enough for Harry and George, who had broken free of Angelina's grip, there were yells and screams as the boys brawled, the Slytherin team landing a few punches before George loses it , grabbing Malfoy by his quidditch robes, throwing him to the ground. He lands one clean punch to his ribcage, squatting down to get close to his face. "If you say one more thing about my girlfriend I will not hesitate to end you, don't look at her, don't touch her or even breathe the same air as her ever again, understood?" George's large hand had clamped around Malfoy's chin forcing him to look into his eyes, Draco was petrified, or at least he felt that way. 

All you could hear were yells and screams as you approached the two teams and you got the gut feeling that something wasn't quite right. You picked up your pace to run over to the group, seeing Harry and George bent down next to Malfoy, your eyes widening when you saw Harry had a bloody nose and George had a cut across his lip. Your hands wrapped around George's bicep, pulling him away from Draco, you looked back at him as he was still on the floor, he had tears in his eyes and his hand was clutching his side. 

George's arm was wrapped around you protectively as the team headed back to the changing rooms. “What happened, George” you whispered. “Later.” he replied quickly - you assume to stop himself from going back and doing any more damage. You were shivering as the rain had soaked you down to your skin, trying not to focus on how cold you were as you sat on one of the benches, waiting patiently for George to collect his things. He looked down at you, standing shirtless while he balls up his quidditch robes,only to shove them in his bag. He gives you a gentle smile, turning around to place some of his things into his lockers, as much as he was smiling, you knew he was still riled up, as the muscles across his back were tensing and untensing. You couldn’t help but think about how toned he was getting, your mind travelling to a more intimate space with him. 

You were only pulled from your thoughts as his warm hand pressed to your jaw, thumb running over your cheekbone, “Ready to go, Love?” he asks softly, you look up and notice that his lip was still bleeding, you frown standing up to wipe away the blood, he hisses a little dabbing his middle finger against the source of the sting, he looks down at the small amount of blood on his finger before wiping it against his jeans. “Fuck’s sake...” he mutters under his breath, you grab his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’ll patch you up, Georgie, just tell me what happened.” He sighs, pulling your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go then.”

You decide on avoiding the common room until you’d patched him up, making your way towards the prefect’s bathroom. He explains that Malfoy was being absolutely vulgar with his poisonous words, not only joking about Harry’s late mother, but speaking ill of your blood purity, saying that it was enough to push him over the edge. You’d had him leaning against one of the sinks, as you work to mend his split lip, muttering ‘Episkey’ as he rambles about how out of line Malfoy was. “You know he said pretty much the same thing to Hermione and I over breakfast the other day, it’s been like this all year.” He moves to get up, but you stop him, pushing him by his chest to sit back down. “I’ll fucking kill him.” you shake your head, giggling and pressing a kiss to his cheek, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, picking you up and spinning you around, causing your giggles to turn to full belly laughs. 

A loud cough caused you both to look toward the source of the sound, seeing Myrtle sitting on the top of one of the stall doors. “Oh how beautiful it is to watch you two!” she giggles “I wouldn’t mind seeing this Weasley shirtless!” your eyes widen, holding in a laugh as you look up at George. “He’s still my boyfriend, Myrtle” she gasps, dropping down from the stall, looking over at you both. “Fine! I promise it’ll only be a peek… no? I guess I’ll give you some privacy then” she rolls her eyes before whirring off to dive into her toilet.

“There he is!” Fred yells as you both finally enter the common room, “You should’ve seen him and Harry, it was like lightning how quick they were on that snake… Nobody speaks like that about Y/N and Lilly and gets away with it!” the older twin was gossiping to the rest of the weasley family, as well as some of their friends. The celebration was already in full swing, many students already tipsy off the firewhiskey and others huddled in groups talking. “Alright, Fred, It’s all well and good until they go and get themselves banned, or even expelled for brawling like that” Hermione adds, Ginny shakes her head, looking over to Angelina and Alicia for support, “he definitely provoked them, honestly the foul git brought it on himself” Alicia responds.

The more the night went on, the more obvious it was that George was basically undressing you with his eyes. You could tell the pent up anger was getting to him, he was sat in the corner by the fire, brooding, his posture was awful but he was sat with his legs spread, elbow propped up on the arm rest, biting at his nails. You had to admit he looked glorious, his hair had now dried up from the rain, leaving a small wave to the ginger locks in its absence. You’d changed earlier in the night to a pair of leggings and a sweater that used to belong to George, key word being used because you had zero intent in giving it back. He was looking you up and down as you danced with Ginny, Angelina and Ron. 

George pictured you walking over to him, straddling his hips and pulling him into a deep kiss. All he wanted was to run his hands slowly up your spine because he knows it drives you crazy, he wished he could pull your hair to expose your neck to him, he wanted to mark you so people knew you were his. He pushed the emerging thought of strangling Draco to the back of his head, replacing it with the image of choking you, his whole hand wrapped around your neck, and just squeezing as he’s fucking you into the mattress. Then he remembered the sounds you’d make, how your breath would shudder and how you would beg  him for more. He was driving himself insane, he muttered a low “fuck…” under his breath when you locked eyes.

Unknowing of his thoughts, you wave him over to the group with a pout, of course he concedes, pushing himself off of the chair, and walking over to you, he smiles innocently at you, grabbing your face with both hands as he kisses you. You go to deepen the kiss, after all you’d been watching him all night and you knew that the inevitable would happen; the way he'd started by cupping your cheeks, fingers threading to the back of your head, threatening to pull at your hair, he wanted you to moan into the kiss, but not here. He wanted that sound to be for him and him only. You pull away, saving your friends and his family watching the show he was putting on. He was restraining himself from throwing you over his shoulder as you look up at him with your begging eyes, that’s how this game started. Begging. 

He’d gotten into the rhythm of dancing with you when he leaned down to whisper on your ear. ‘Be a good girl and go wait for me upstairs will you?” you press a kiss to his cheek, before walking away from him, your fingertips being the last thing to leave each other. George’s eyes immediately shot to Fred, walking over to him with his hand shoved into his pockets. “My dearest Freddie-” Fred cut him off, rolling his eyes “I’ll keep them out of the room, it’s all yours… just no sex on my bed, I’d like to keep at least one of them sacred” George rolled his eyes, “It was one time, Fred” he goes to walk away, causing his brother to raise his voice “That’s one time too many!”

You’d practically jumped onto the redhead when he entered the room, pressing another kiss to his lips, glad you’d taken the time to heal it earlier on, he muttered a small ‘jump’ wrapping your legs around his waist. He did contemplate fucking you on Fred’s bed for a moment, but decided against it quickly. His hands found your ass, grabbing it with a sense of roughness, he wasn’t going to let go this quickly. After all you’d hardly been begging at all. Your soft moans against his lips told him that you knew it was game on, sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs straddling his thighs. He’d had an idea, It was filthy - he wanted you to be a whimpering mess while you were both fully clothed. He was craving it now, he wanted you whining mercilessly and he wanted it now. “How do you feel about riding my thigh, princess?” one of his hands was cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your swollen lips, you instinctively took his thumb between your teeth, licking at the pad of his thumb, you nodded slowly, moving so that your hips were straddling his right thigh. 

You’d started off, curling your hips ever so slightly, you were only testing the waters but you didn’t expect it to feel this good. “That’s it baby, you’re doing so well.” he praised, his hands slipping under your shirt, his fingertips tracing the line of your spine, causing you to shiver, he had you in the palm of his hands as you began to quicken your pace, his eyes were locked on yours as he began to bounce his leg ever so slightly. Your moans were growing louder and his eyes were growing darker. “Mmh. George, that feels so good, baby.”

Your head was buried in the crook of his neck as you were getting yourself off on his thigh, It was truly sinful, you knew you were getting close, but he did too. His hands gripped your hips in a way that you knew would leave bruises, but you didn’t mind, not in the slightest. He pulled you off of his thigh, denying you an orgasm. If this was the game he was playing, you’d play along, sinking to your knees, nestling between his legs. Your hands felt his bulge, eyes fogged with lust as you palmed, using the other hand to help free his cock from his jeans. 

‘I’m so fucking lucky,’  he thought as your tongue darted out to lick at his tip, teasing him ever so slightly, you knew you were pushing your luck but you continued to tease him. “Don’t do that, Princess, It won’t end well for you.” he warns, hands tangling in your hair to pull it out of the way, guiding you down his length, he knew you could take it all. His good girl.

It didn’t take him long to give in, you’d managed to get him almost completely naked yet you were still fully clothed, he had let you lie back against the sheets, they smelled uniquely of him and you breathed in the scent, it sent your eyes rolling back, as he slowly pulled down your leggings along with your underwear. “I don’t think you’re ready for cock quite yet, are you?” his fingers ghosted up your legs. “Fingers or tongue, your choice angel… use your words for me.”

You whimpered, “Fingers please, Georgie,” you mewled, he smirked nodding “They were always your favourite weren't they?” he brought his fingers up to your lips, instructing you to suck, which you obliged in doing, taking two of his fingers past your lips, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.” he removed his fingers from your lips, using his middle finger to trace over your entrance before gently pushing in the one finger, “already taking one so well, can you handle another? I think you can” 

He was fingering you at an agonising pace as his thumb circled your clit, he knew he had the ability to make you come undone in minutes if he just curled his fingers up a little more. He could let you cum now, on his fingers, but he could’ve let you find your high on his thigh earlier on, but he didn’t. He wanted you to Beg. “I’m so close,” you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers in hope for release, instead he shakes his head, pulling his fingers from you, taking them into his mouth, licking them clean “I bet you want to cum, don’t you baby?” he was smirking, now “I haven’t heard you beg once, you clearly don’t need it.” you grab the back of his neck pulling him into a swift kiss, pulling his lower lip between your teeth as you pull away. “Fuck me please, George, I need you so bad.” you’d used his weakness against him as you bit on his lip and he had to oblige, you were still left in his sweater, but seeing you in just that was enough for him.

“Anything for my girl.” His finger circled your clit again for a few moments, teasing you with the tip of his cock. When he finally started fucking you, he had to adjust to just how tight you were as your pussy begged for release. The air was a mix of moans and grunts as he set his relentless pace. You were scratching at his back as he fucked you into his mattress, only one thing left to complete his daydream. His hand wrapped around your throat, restricting your air for a few moments before releasing, your airy breathy moans were enough for him to feel his release coming. “Are you close, princess? Can you cum for me?” 

You came together with one long grunt from him, his hands were massaging your thighs as you came, his demeanor switching completely, pulling on a pair of underwear before scooping you up into his arms, letting you rest against his chest as your legs wrap around his waist, he pulled his duvet up, allowing you to crawl under the warm covers, him joining you in the single bed, “Mm I’m sleepy,” you pouted, leg slung over him and your head against his chest. “Then sleep here, angel.” His hand was smoothing over your hair, listening to your breathing regulate “My Protector.” You mused, leaning up to press a kiss to his clavicle.

Greeting your friends the next morning with groggy eyes, you slumped into the bench in the great hall, grabbing a slice of toast. Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you, causing you to throw your crust at his head “I take it you and George had fun last night?” he laughed, “Why, Jealous are you, Freddie?” he rolls his eyes, scoffing. “No, pfft, I had a FANTASTIC night thank you!”

You notice Malfoy sat at the slytherin table arm in a sling, pandering to girls like Pansy attempting to make his life ‘easier’. You nod into the direction of the nonsense “He’s absolutely milking it.” you laugh, as George slides into the seat next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek “He did the same thing a few years ago, what a little bitch.” Ron adds, the group erupts into laughter, it was true. Draco was a little bitch and suddenly you felt the confidence to say something about it. “Watch this,” you say, standing up but George grabs your hand “You’re not going over there.” you place a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be fine, Georgie.” 

“Aw, Malfoy do you need all the girls around you to fill the whole now mummy isn’t here to patch you up?” The girls snigger with each other, Draco goes to speak up but is met with George’s glare from across the room, making him shut his mouth for once in his life. “cat got your tongue?” you laugh, recognising the glint in his eye, it was the same look George used to give you before you were together, and you realise why he’d been acting so harshly towards you, he was crushing. You laughed at the thought, rolling your eyes.  “Honestly, I expected better, the Quidditch team is right, you really are a little bitch.” you spin on your heel, heading back to your friends with another eye roll and a smile back at them as they laughed from their table. 

“I don’t think we’ll have a problem with Draco for a while.” you joke, sitting down, to enjoy a peaceful breakfast surrounded by your friends. “Well done for standing up to him, I’ll reward you later if you want.” George whispered in your ear, you grabbed his thigh under the table with a small nod. You were in for another treat tonight.

[immortalcowboy]

rqg screencaps — shōin institute, hiroshima, airship two

(other) london, dover, paris

airship one, prague, cairo

damascus, rome, okinoshima

(click for better quality)

id under the 'keep reading'

[ID: Three digital drawings of several scenes from Rusty Quill Gaming made to look like screencaps of a TV show.

The first drawing is of Zolf and Azu underwater in the Shōin Institute. Zolf is a white dwarf with white hair tied up in a bun and a braided beard. He has an undercut. His beard is tied with a golden circlet with an emerald in the centre. He has several piercings in his ears — two lobe piercings and a tragus in both ears, a traditional industrial bar in his right, and two helix piercings in his left. All of his piercings are silver. He is wearing a black ring on his right middle finger and a silver ring with a spade symbol on his left middle finger. He has a scar on his temple. He is wearing a silver chest plate and a green shirt underneath that has several holes burned into it. He is smiling at Azu and is doing two thumbs up. Azu is a black orc with a shaved head. She has a heart-shaped helix piercing and bright pink gages with a heart in the centre that matches her bright pink armour which is glowing. Her back is to the viewer and she is looking at Zolf. In the background is a silver pipe and a navy-coloured wall. Both Azu and Zolf have bubbles coming from their noses. Underneath, the text is '[PRESSURE ALARM RISES IN PITCH]'.

The second drawing is of Earhart before getting on the Vengeance. Earhart is a white gnome with shoulder-length ginger hair. She has a burn up the side of her face and ear. The ear that has been burned has a chunk missing from it, like it has been blown off in an accident. Earhart is wearing a matching blue jacket and pilot's cap, but they have been repaired with blue fabric that is a slightly different hue. There is a peacock feather sticking out of her hat. She has goggles on her forehead. One lens is yellow and the other is orange. Her arms are crossed, and the fingers on one of her hand have the same burn scar that is on her face. She is missing her pinky finger. Earhart is scowling. In the background is the base of an airship with spikes along the side of it. Behind the ship are several boxes and a book lying on the floor. There is a lot of light coming in from the side that the airship is on. The text underneath is '- Earhart: It's called 'the Vengeance', get on board.'

The third drawing is of Azu and Cel on the Vengeance. Azu has a scar through her eyebrow and one of her tusks has been snapped off. She is wearing a pink coat with a fur hood and a pink scarf. She is wearing the same jewellery from the first drawing. She is standing stiffly and looks shocked. Next to Azu is Cel, a white half-elf with one green eye and one brown eye. Their hair is blond and is standing on end with the sides shaved. They have several piercings in their face and ear. They are wearing an unbuttoned brown coat with a fur hood, a red scarf and gloves, and a blue knitted jumper. They have goggles on their forehead with red lenses. They have their arms crossed and are leaning towards Azu, smiling. It is night. The text underneath is '- Azu: That's— That's twice! In half an hour!'

End ID.]

[shoutogepi]

Heart of the Storm

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 11.0k bruh why do i do this

[ ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ]  a lil fluff in beginning/end

themes : igloo sex?? LMAO, shy!reader, steam/sweat kink?, dom!shouto, teasing, temperature play

bio : Shouto warms you up in the midst of the blizzard, in more ways than one.

author’s note : this stemmed from a crack fic idea but damnnnn if it isn’t hot in here now :O this is also a piece for @bnhabookclub ‘s first event— the provisional licensing exam! i’m using prompt #9: “Your lips are really warm.”

tagging: @simplybakugou thanks for beta reading lovely ♥︎ & big thanks for thirsting with me & basically directing the fic @lildreamer93​ ♥︎

also available on AO3 here

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he dark clouds approaching the mountain paint the sky in an ominous manner, the wind scraping your raw cheeks. You place one foot in front of the other, the snow crunching with protest underneath your weight. Your nose is runny, tucked beneath a thick scarf, and your eyes are glassy from the freezing winds that only seem to be intensifying. The thick coat does its best to block the wind from your body, but the powerful gusts manage to sneak through the fastenings down your middle, allowing cold to quietly spread into your body.

A hand around your forearm rustles you from your bleary focus on the path ahead of you. Your accomplice’s heterochromatic gaze pierces into your tired eyes, the only parts of your faces that aren’t tucked away under layers of clothes. He gently pulls your arm towards him, and with his gloved fingers wrapped securely around your limb, he guides you off of the path. You enter an empty snowbank littered with skinny, ice-covered trees, almost collapsing on the slight decline of the trail.

Shouto catches you awkwardly, the thick outerwear making his movements slower than usual. But he holds you steady, refusing to let you fall into the thick carpet of white that licks up to the middle of your calves. Pulling your body close to his, his worried eyes fall on your closed ones, making his heart thump against his ribcage. With your head laying on his shoulder, he leans forward and talks in a slightly heightened voice so you can hear him over the screaming winds. “Y/N-san, let’s take a break,” he suggests, but it doesn’t sound like there is much room for disagreement.

You nod weakly, your gloved hand finally coming up out of your pocket to push yourself off of him to show him you still have some strength left. It’s just so damn cold.

Shouto frowns underneath his scarf, his hands falling from your figure as you stand on your own once more. He watches you lean against one of the thin trunks that pierces through the chalky blanket on the ground. He can tell you’re exhausted, and he won’t lie— he’s not feeling his strongest at the moment either. His left hand offered to you, you grab onto his arm for support, mustering up the strength to continue the trek to your destination.

But he steers you into the middle of the clearing, where no spindling trunks break the perfect layer of ivory on the forest floor. He shakes your hold off of his arm much to your distaste, but as soon as he’s freed the limb, he wraps it around your shoulders, collecting your body into his chest. You bend into him willingly, your hidden cheeks feeling warm for the first time in hours.

With you secured tightly against him, Shouto pushes down the scarf covering his face, his teeth gripping the fingertip of his right glove. Your eyes widen as he exposes his hand to the howling, icy winds, and a part of you wants to immediately grab his fingers and tuck them away from the offensive temperature. But you can’t help the awe that blooms in your chest as a stream of frost explodes from his outstretched palm. He flicks his wrist casually, and the ice that lands on the ground builds around you into an effortless, shiny dome. He continues the motion until the bellowing wind no longer assaults your ears, and your eyes are no longer watery.

Your gaze roams over his creation, admiring the way the ice has a perfect sheen, halfway clear enough to produce a distorted reflection that peers back at you. Your shaking hands snake out of the pockets in your jacket, hesitantly hooking the material of your scarf down to tuck under your chin. “W-Wow, Shouto-san, this is… incredible,” you murmur, eyes finally landing on the tall male who’s currently savoring the cute, dazed look on your face.

His mouth curves into a half smile, his expression softening at your pink cheeks and nose. “I’m going to step out and thicken the walls before the storm hits, so just sit tight, Y/N-san. I won’t be long.” He turns and removes his other glove, placing the pair on the glistening snow by his feet. He activates his quirk, blasting a hole half his height into the side of the dome, and leaving your field of vision.

You quickly pull the scarf back up over your face. Even if the formation Shouto had created shields you from the full force of the wind, the powerful gusts still creep into the dome and tousle your clothes. You waddle over to his gloves, collecting the cloth and tucking it under your arm so the snow doesn’t dampen the material. You shake the heavy pack down your shoulders, frowning as it lands unceremoniously into the snow. Your clumsy fingers quivering, it takes a few tries to pinch the zipper— but you finally latch on and pull it sideways triumphantly, your other hand searching for the black, waterproof material inside.

You finally find the tent at the bottom of your backpack, and you unfold it haphazardly, spreading the textile across the top of the snow. Hopefully the fabric will be thick enough to stop some of the cold from the frozen ground from seeping through. Your mind wanders as your hands run over the thick material, thinking back to just days before you were caught in this blizzard.

Your agency had been working with Shouto’s in order to take down a ring of criminals who were known for slipping into the shadows after committing their heinous acts, due to their extensive knowledge of the Japanese landscape. You and Shouto had been in the same group that was to watch over the foothills of the mountains surrounding the village that was known to be their next hit, but the villains had scattered upon seeing the group of heroes. You had each been prepared with packs, clothes, and rations, but the ensuing blizzard was quite the surprise. You weren’t sure how exactly you ended up with Shouto, just the two of you, but you could not muster up even a scrap of a complaint. He was so charming and handsome after all— if you had to be stuck in this storm with anyone, you were glad it was with him. Not to mention his quirk seemed like the perfect match for the cold storm almost upon you.

You’re torn from your thoughts as Shouto’s frame hunches through the hole he had created, his back to you as he seals the tunnel with more ice. You realize how much darker it had become, the ice not nearly as transparent as before. You wonder how much he had thickened the walls of your refuge, or if the dark was due to the icy squall that had begun to howl outside.

Shouto turns, heaving out a sigh as he drops the pile of logs he had carried, the cylindrical segments rolling on the icy snow. He takes in the tent on the ground, and lets out a breath of air as he forces the hood of his jacket off his head, his scarf once again falling down to reveal his face. “Looks like we’ll be here for awhile,” he humors, crouching down in the center of the floor and directing his left palm there. Flames lick his skin as he melts the snow, a puddle forming in the center of the ground before it evaporates, leaving a rocky, earthy terrain underneath. “Perfect,” he murmurs, positioning the logs into a triangular pile, keeping the flame on his palm lit to provide enough light.

You watch as he nods absentmindedly at the wooden stack on the ground, lowering his hand to the logs and letting the flames lap at the bark. You chuckle hastily, making his eyes dart towards your face. At his inquisitive look, your gaze drops to the flames starting to take on the kindlings. “Shouto-san, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you state bashfully, sitting down atop the tarp. You add a bit quieter, “I think I would’ve froze to death by now if I hadn’t found you.”

A miniscule shade of pink flashes across his cheeks, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from your words or from the cold. He intently watches the flames grow for a moment before his eyes jump to yours, the small smile resurfacing on his rosy lips. “I would never let that happen, Y/N-san.”

Unsure how to respond, your eyes dart away from his, landing on the fire once more. “Won’t that melt the, uh… igloo?” You ask, looking at the high ceiling of the dome directly over the growing embers. Shouto had made the structure a considerable height, so you figured he had accounted for it, but you wanted to change the subject anyway.

“I tried to make the top of the structure far away enough so it won’t… but even if it does, I can just refreeze it,” he assures, standing up and walking over to you. You scoot to the side as he sits beside you, taking advantage of the tent. You nod as if you hadn’t already come to that conclusion, taking a shy glance at him.

He’s a respectable distance away from you, but close enough to reach out and touch. He catches your glance, the gentle smile still gracing his mouth. Your eyes widen as you notice a long scratch on the side of his face, slashing over the bottom of his scar. “Shouto-san! Are you okay?” You scoot towards him, your hands reaching out to touch his face. His eyes widen at your bold gesture, and he stiffens as you take his chin into your gloved hands.

Shouto lets out a stifled chuckle, his hands folding tightly on the tops of his legs. “It’s just a scratch.” Even if it’s through the thick sheepskin mittens, he allows himself to enjoy your touch for a moment. He shakes off his own backpack, your hands sinking off his face as he holds it up in one hand and jerks his head toward it. “I’m better off than this thing, anyway.”

The backpack is torn, the majority of the bag totally missing as if it had been ripped away forcefully; completely shredded. You gape at the object, then check the back of his jacket to thankfully discover it’s totally intact.

“The guy I was chasing had a strange animalistic quirk that gave him sharp teeth,” Shouto looks at the disheveled rucksack, “and claws.” He points at the scratch along his high cheekbone, shrugging his shoulders in a relaxed manner. His stomach flips at the frown that blossoms on your lips.

You turn away from him and rummage through your bag, making an exclamation as you find the small first aid kit you had packed. His eyebrows raise as you look at him shyly, pulling off your gloves in a modest fashion. “Please let me patch you up,” you appeal, grabbing the tube of antibiotic ointment hastily and uncapping it. “I want to feel like I’ve at least helped you in some way today. My quirk isn’t very useful out here,” you chuckle sadly, eyes trailing off to the side of his face.

Shouto nods crisply, his gaze trained on the hand stretching toward him. “Thank you,” he mumbles, watching how your bare fingers shake violently. He knows you’re cold, but it shocks him when your fingertip touches his cheek— the icy feeling making his skin prickle. He allows you to spread the cream across the cut, but immediately once you’re done, he envelops the back of your hand in his own, long fingers folding around yours. “Y/N-san, you’re so cold,” he says almost to himself, his other hand following the same action.

With your hands in his, your face blooms into a heated flush, a gentle gasp escaping you at the tingles that sprout on your skin fed by his natural warmth. Your reaction spurs him on, and he transfers your hand so that both of them are tucked neatly into his left. The burst of intense heat makes your eyes go wide as he activates his quirk ever so slightly. The sheer strength of even a fraction of his power sends a chill down your spine, a fuzzy numbness rushing through your hands as they regain feeling.

“S-Shouto-san,” you gulp, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail, “you should save your strength, I can use the fire— I’m fine!”

Shouto’s eyebrow quirks amusedly at your request. “This is nothing,” he counters, but upon inspecting your sheepish expression, he begrudgingly grants your wish, his hands placing yours on your lap before disappearing into his pockets.

Your newly-nimble fingers hastily grab a flat, rectangular paper out of the first aid kit. You peel off the strips from either side of a bandage, placing the sticky side diagonally over the scratch on his cheek. He seems satisfied with the way your fingers only barely quiver now, and he doesn’t attempt to take your hands into his again.

“Thank you for helping me, Y/N-san,” he smiles at you, making the cold in your bones feel just a bit duller. You nod, closing the kit and placing it on the ground next to your bag. The conversation dries, and you wrack your brain to think of something to talk about. You and Shouto were friendly colleagues, but you’d never really had the chance to talk to him alone like this, and you were both not really the talkative type.

Reaching into your pack, you produce a cup-ramen and offer it to him. “Are you hungry, Shouto-san? I have two, so I have more than enough to share.”

Shouto accepts the package, a grin spreading on his lips. “Now here you are, saving my life,” he jests, peeling the lid halfway before shoveling some snow into the bowl with the lip of the container, “I could get used to your care.” You laugh a little too hard at his joke, following his actions with your own cup. You hand him the cup and he melts the snow leisurely, the water turning to a boil before he closes the lid, placing the cup on the ground in front of you.

As he copies the actions on his own cup, your hands find the chunky receiver the team had given each member before the stakeout started. Turning the device on, you hiss at the static shriek that pierces your eardrums, quickly lowering the volume before checking each of the channels. “Seems like the storm is interfering with the walkie,” you comment, placing the malfunctioning device back into your bag.

Shouto nods thoughtfully, his fingers laced underneath his chin as if he is in deep thought. “The storm will probably last the majority of the night. We’ll have to camp here for a while and we can check how the weather is at first light,” he explains his plan and you agree.

The pair of you eat your ramen in a comfortable silence, your toes slowly gaining feeling as you hold the tips of your boots close to the fire. You share the filtered water you had brought with the man beside you, both of you drinking only a third of the water combined in a mindful manner.

With the blood rushing to your stomach to digest the processed noodles, your fingertips begin to grow cold again. You push up your scarf once more, covering your pink nose and sticking your palms out toward the fire.

Shouto watches you with careful regard before glancing at his watch. “Y/N-san, perhaps you should try to rest while we wait for daylight,” he suggests, eyes twinkling at how cute you look with your eyelids drooping heavily in near-slumber.

You shoot him a lazy smile, nodding at his suggestion. You find the thick, silky sleeping bag that takes up the majority of your backpack’s capacity, undoing the bands that keep it compressed together. Noticing his lingering gaze on you, you shoot him a confused look. “Are you going to lay down as well, Shouto-san? We can use the tarp here if we lay next to each other.”

He smiles at your offer. “I would rather keep watch in case the villains decide to surprise us.”

You frown at his responsible intentions. “No one is going to be out in this blizzard, though. If the villains are dumb enough to do that, then they’ll surely be popsicles by the time we find them. Please, you should rest too, Shouto-san.” You pat the space on the tarp next to your sleeping bag expectantly.

He chuckles awkwardly, palm landing on the back of his neck. “I… seem to have lost my sleeping bag, actually,” he trails off, looking at the scraps of his backpack that remain. “Most of my things fell out when I was fighting.”

As if the thought comes to you both at the same time, your eyes meet and a flush replaces his usual suave expression. “You can share mine,” you speak before the words register in your brain, and as soon as they do, sweltering heat infiltrates your own cheeks. “I mean— if that would— if you need…  it wouldn’t be w-weird. Besides… we should probably stay close for,” you gulp, “b-body heat.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He replies a little too quickly for his own liking, cringing minorly at himself. He looks sideways at you, hesitance clear on his face.

You nod at him and he stiffly moves to the other side of the sleeping bag, willing his breath to stay steady. You unlace your boots, immediately sliding your woolen-sock clad feet inside. You wiggle into the slot, heart racing. Shouto takes off his own boots and shimmies into the envelope with you. It’s a one-person sleeping bag so the fit is a bit snug, the front of his jacket brushing against the back of yours. His long arm reaches over your torso to zip the bag closed, instantly withdrawing his hand to his side afterwards.

Now that you’re pushing up against him, he can feel your coat is slightly wet from the snow. “You should take that off— it’ll only make you colder since it's damp,” he whispers in your ear, making you stiffen against him. Shuffling a bit, your bottom skims against his crotch and his breath catches in his throat. His eyes admiring the tight sweater that’s revealed as you shed the jacket, he realizes his jacket is probably the same. He removes his as well, his hips pressing into your ass but they’re gone before you can even blink, his folded jacket a makeshift pillow long enough to cushion both your heads.

With both your jackets removed, he can feel how truly cold you are; your body shivering and your breath slightly hitched. You curl into yourself as much as you can, willing the frost away by brushing your limbs against each other slightly. The sleeping bag has good insulation, but it barely does anything yet since you offer no heat for it to retain. Your hands curl into half-fists, pressing them against your lips in hope to thaw them with your shaky breath.

Shouto’s warm breath on the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “Y/N-san, you’re shivering,” he comments, eyes raking over the smooth skin at the back of your neck. You gaze into the fire for a moment, begging for some kind of confidence in this situation.

You shift onto your back, rolling onto your other side so you can look at him. The wisp of courage you had scraped up is viciously snatched from you as your eyes meet his.

The emotion in his eyes is something you’ve never seen before, the intensity intimidating you so much that your lungs still mid-breath. His gaze is half-lidded, his hair falling perfectly over his eyes. Hot breath washes over your raw cheeks enticingly, making your skin prickle with apprehension.

“Can I…,” he trails off, and you’re surprised when you feel his fingers sheathe around yours, pulling your wrists directly toward his mouth. Your stomach flips as he breathes out, the warm air caressing your chilled skin. “Can I warm you up, Y/N?”

You swallow harshly, your eyes the size of dinner plates, you’re sure. But Shouto’s expression doesn’t falter, and your silence doesn’t bother him as he places the softest kiss on your knuckle. You’re shaking again, even though the cold in your body is pushed far into the back of your mind. “S-Shouto-san,” you peep, your voice an octave higher than usual. It feels strange to say his name so intimately, but he seems to enjoy the sound.

He lets out a long exhale, closing his eyes as his thumb presses into the middle of your palm, forcing your hand to open. “Your teeth are chattering— you’re so cold,” he states, a hand letting go of your wrist to jump to your waist.

It’s true, your skin is shockingly frigid against his, and your teeth rattle slightly at the loss of your jacket. His lips press against the next knuckle, keeping your gaze captured to his magnetic stare. His eyes are so intoxicating; one a refreshing aqua and the other a swirling storm of gray. They both hold an unspeakable passion; a force that quiets all your worries as soon as they sprout.

“I said I wouldn’t let you freeze, Y/N.” His fingers on your waist tighten and he pulls your body flush against his in one swift movement. Only the thick sweaters keep your skin from touching, and his hand slides up the curve of your waist, underneath the hem of the knitted fabric. You gasp, watching his wrist disappear at the bottom of the sweater as his hand glides across your skin. Even though this is his ice side, his touch is so warm compared to your flesh. You look back up to see he’s inched closer to you, lips nearly brushing against yours. “Are you gonna let me keep my word?”

You can’t seem to find any words, your body overwhelmed by his hot fingers dragging along your side. His stare demands your attention, and no matter how desperately you want to look away, your body refuses to follow your wishes. You can feel your nipples hardening against the cup of your bra, a warm tingle emerging between your legs. Your pussy flutters underneath your panties as he continues to kiss your hands, lips wandering over each knuckle, fingertip, and line along your palms. The realization that his touch is doing things to you only makes you feel more flustered.

Shouto’s hand weaves over yours, heat radiating off of him as he places your hand on the cusp of his jaw. “You’re still shivering,” he states, finally breaking eye contact only to glance at your lips briefly before his gaze returns to yours.

You find yourself nodding slightly, unconsciously welcoming his next intentions. Your fingers, now warmed and feeling fuzzy, push into the hair behind his ears, gently guiding his face toward yours. Your lips part with a soft whimper as his hand underneath your sweater flattens, the entire palm introducing a pleasant heat to your chilled skin. Shouto gathers you closer to him, strong arm wrapping around your waist tighter and pushing your face to fall only a short distance away from his. You can feel his breath on your face, warm and soft, as his eyes search your face for any hint of reluctance. He closes the space between your mouths at a turtle’s pace, allowing you ample opportunity to push him away.

But you don’t— you grab the front of his shirt with your free hand, the hand behind his ear pushing him forward so his lips lock with yours. A shared, strangled moan resonates off the walls of the igloo, lips pushing and pulling against each other at a feverish pace. The kiss is hot, and his lips feel like heaven against yours as his hands feather down your spine.

“Your lips are really warm,” you murmur as you pull away to catch your breath, eyes still closed and lungs feeling tight from a combination of the lack of air and the excitement— lust— pumping through you. Heat floods your cheeks as you realize you’d voiced your thoughts, an entertained look crossing Shouto’s features.

“Good,” he says as his lips touch yours again, this time more delicately than last. He kisses you for a moment, just long enough for you to lose your train of thought, before he pulls back quickly. “I’m gonna get you nice and warm, Y/N— I promise,” Shouto vows, capturing your mouth and claiming it as his, his tongue separating your lips and exploring your mouth.

You moan at the new sensation, allowing the wet muscle to dominate yours, body feeling weak, and hot, and wonderful. Shouto’s hands are still wandering over your skin underneath your sweater, rounding your waist to creep up your chest. Just as he’d been to initiate the kiss, his touch rises slowly, pausing just underneath the swell of your breast. The warmth seeps into your ribs, and you surprise yourself when your own hand leaves his chest to push his elbow up, moving his hand on top of your bra.

Shouto groans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel your panties dampen at the noise. Vibrations against your lips, your hand in his hair pulls gently at his scalp in response, only to elicit a second, similar sound from his throat. His hand squeezes your chest just the right amount— not too rough, but not gentle either— making you whimper into his mouth. He thumbs over your nipple through the thin silky material, lips curving into a satisfied smirk when you moan louder this time, fingers tightening your hold on him.

Your tongues tangling in a slow, sensual embrace, you drink up the heavy breaths that leave his open lips, high on his warmth and his touch. The thumb rubbing along your bra traces the edge of the cup, toying with the soft flesh underneath.

“Is this okay?” Shouto inquires huskily against your lips, inducing shivers to shoot toward your core. He’s crawling atop your body to hover above you, the sleeping bag rustling as he stays close to you, one leg splitting between yours and the hand not on your breast moving to prop himself up.

“Y-Yes Shouto-san,” you whine, eager to feel his tongue back on yours already. Your limbs are still shaking from the cold, but the excitement that blooms from his touch mixes into your veins like warm nectar to combat the icy frost that lingers there. His knee isn’t quite high enough to touch your pussy, but your cheeks become warmer at the realization that you want it to be.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmurs before his lips press against yours again, eliciting a weak moan from you. His kiss is warm and intoxicating, yet firm. Tongue invading your mouth again, you sigh contentedly as his hand squeezes at your breast, thumb dipping underneath your bra to brush against your pebbled bud. He starts to move his body just enough to create some friction between the two of you, and you moan again at the novel sensation, your hand moving around his broad shoulders to dig your nails into his sweater.

Your mind is hazy, unable to focus on anything as his mouth lands on the skin of your neck, a breathy moan washing over your throat as he begins to kiss and suck there. You squirm underneath his wide frame, the feeling of his tongue rolling against you stoking the fire between your legs. Your body is beginning to feel warm, your heart beating erratically against your ribs.

Shouto’s hand wanders further up your torso, the hem of your sweater sliding up to rest on the top of his wrist. He smiles against your neck, pulling your bra down so your breasts fall out of the cups, his calloused thumb immediately caressing your nipple again and rubbing over it gently. “Do you like that?” He asks, lips trailing to kiss the underside of your jaw. “Because I really like that.” A forefinger joins his thumb and he pinches the nub, causing it to harden under his warm touch.

You cry out, head thrown to the side in pleasure. It seems that was Shouto’s plan all along, because he ravishes the newly revealed skin on your throat, altering between roving his tongue along your flesh and nipping his teeth softly. “Y-Yes, I like it, Shouto-san,” you answer breathlessly, your legs curling to draw his hips closer to yours. The feeling of his body flush against yours has an incredible heat surging through your entire being, caressing your bones and fluttering in your core.

Shouto’s purr rumbles along your skin, his head dipping down to place a path of kisses along your collar bones. Your hand flies up to grab onto his red and white locks, fingernails scraping his scalp gently and causing a moan to fall from his parted lips. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he praises, lifting your sweater over your shoulders and off your body. Before you can feel self-conscious, he swiftly delivers another kiss to your lips as he tears his own sweater above his head, revealing a pale torso rippling with firm muscles. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight hovering above you; his hair slightly messy from taking his shirt off as his gaze holds your own, a hunger blatant and all-consuming in his eyes.

You whimper as his mouth crashes to yours once more, your spine arching naturally as his arm curls around your waist, fingers moving to undo the clasp of your bra and succeeding swiftly. His kiss is slow and soft as he pulls the straps from your shoulders, tossing the item onto the tarp beside the sleeping bag.

Shouto looks at your naked form below him as if he’s a man starved, and you the most delicious feast he could possibly imagine. His hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes half-lidded and tongue poking out to roll over his lips. You watch as he leans down, warm lips brushing against your jaw and moving to trail down the length of your neck. But he doesn’t stop there; his mouth wanders further down, prospecting the soft flesh of your breast with kisses and long swipes of his tongue.  

“S-Shouto-san,” you call his name when he finally reaches your nipple, mouth enveloping the bud and rolling his tongue around it leisurely, showering you with kitten licks that makes your pulse race. A long moan escapes you, your head thrown back onto his jacket and your eyes drifting shut as he begins to suck on your sensitive nub. “Oh, that feels—” you cut off as his teeth scrape your flesh, hips bucking up into his instinctively.

He only smiles, gently pulling your nipple between his lips and continuing to wash your skin with his hot tongue. “Does that feel good, angel?” He asks, his free hand moving to cup your other breast.

You nod even though he can only see the bottom of your chin, your mouth agape as rushed pants tumble out. Your pussy twitches in your panties when his mouth moves to your other breast, ravishing it in the same fashion. Your brows cinch, fingers woven in his hair and grabbing frantically at the roots as your body welcomes the waves of pleasure Shouto provides. A hand lands on the thick muscle atop his shoulder, gripping onto him and fingernails nearly breaking his perfect skin. Your hips buck again when his teeth graze your nipple, and heat bursts through you as your thigh rubs against something hard.

Shouto moans at the friction, the noise sending vibrations through your chest. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grumbles, popping off your breast and returning to hover his face above yours. “You know you’re absolutely gorgeous, right?” He doesn’t allow you to reply, lips conquering yours and sending a sweet chill through your body.

You make a noise of surprise when he begins to gently grind against your crotch, rubbing his erection onto you. The action has your brain short-circuiting, lust surging through your body now more than ever. God, you want him. You want him bad.

Shouto seems to feel the same way, for he presses your bodies flush against each other, and you whimper when his hot skin touches yours. Another meek noise floats out of you as he shuffles the two of you into a new position, landing on his back with you hovering above him this time. He’s kissing you again, and your brain can’t seem to catch up with him, for he now has two free hands and he uses them to grab your hips, guiding them to move along his own and continue providing the friction of the grinding from before.

Your head is spinning at the stimulation, your slick clit rubbing along the inside of your panties. And even though there’s two pairs of thick pants between the two of you, you can feel your pussy right above his clothed cock, dragging deliciously against him.

His fingers move to the front of your pants, ripping the zip downwards and digging his thumbs into the space between the material and the flesh of your hips. Shouto pushes the cloth off your body with surprising ease, your ass coming into contact with the sleek lining of the sleeping bag. Leaving the material bunched at your knees, Shouto places his hand on the back of your neck and guides your lips to land on his, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth gently, a growl-like moan rumbling in his throat.

You jump slightly when a hand lands on your hip, long fingers sprawled out over your panty-clad ass. His dull fingernails drag along the cloth, digits looping underneath the band at your hip and toying with it— pulling it down gently before putting it back in place, and repeating the action. You whine against his mouth, falling to your elbows on either side of his head, your hair cascading around your faces.

Shouto’s hand slips between your legs, cupping your pussy in his large palm. “Do you want more?” He teases, tone dark with desire and a hint of playfulness. He kisses the corner of your mouth as you moan quietly, trying to grind yourself against his hand. The action only makes him grin, his other hand cupping your chin and guiding you to look at him. “Answer me, beautiful.”

Your throat tight and mind foggy, you whine at his demand, eyelids falling closed as you lean into his touch. “Yes, I want m-more, Shouto-san,” you respond, humiliation spurring a heat to rise to your cheeks. You’d never begged for a man’s touch like this, and the thought has you both wanting to hide in mortification and spread your legs wide for him.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, moving your face to place your lips on his again. The very tips of his fingers begin to move along your slit through your underwear, starting with gentle circles on your entrance and trailing up to your clit.

His touch has you gripping his hair again with both hands in trembling fists, broken whimpers dislodging from your throat. His long digits toy with your pussy through the sheer, soaked material, separating your folds with his pointer and ring finger for his middle to dip into you just a tad, pushing your panties inside yourself slightly. You cry out, for even at such a shallow depth, the heat leaks from his fingertip into your pussy, melting away your inhibitions. It’s not enough to stretch you, but your walls twitch in anticipation around the digit, causing a smile to spread on Shouto’s lips.

He kisses the other side of your mouth, your eyes still shut tightly and your lip caught between your teeth. “Do you want even more?” He murmurs, stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Say my name, Y/N.”

His command is absolute, tone gruff, like he can’t seem to catch his breath—  it makes you look at him, only to send another shocking thrill toward your cunt at the lustful fervor in his gaze. You lick your lips, croaking out a shy, “Shouto-san.” His thumb grazes over your clit in reward, but you only push your hips down in search of that searing fingertip. When he moves his fingers in accordance with your body, you let out a distressed whine. “Pleaseee,” you whimper, placing a hesitant kiss on the column of his neck.

Shouto sighs at your appeal, deft fingers curling around the edge of your panties to gather them to the side of your throbbing pussy. Your body jolts as he brushes your slick folds with the lightest touch, another noise of desperation floating past your lips. “No, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice deep enough to drag you under like a powerful tide pulling you lost into a sea of pleasure, “My name— just my name.”

The gasp that you surrender surprises you, and you’re not sure if it’s more from his request or from his thumb beginning to circle your needy clit. A string of low moans flees your throat as he presses harder against you, the digit sliding around the bundle of nerves with ease, slick with your arousal.  “But… but Shouto-s-san, I…,” you trail off, distracted as two hot fingertips begin to play with your entrance, curling just enough to hook against the edge of your walls and tease another groan out of you.

“You…,” Shouto continues for you, that taunting tone dripping from his voice again, “You don’t want it, Y/N?” He’s teasing you, but only because you’re so delectably responsive to him— he can feel your pussy twitch against his fingers, your slick drenching the digits and making it irresistible for him to go even further.

“No— I want it,” you hurry to respond, fearful that he’ll withdraw his touch before you have the chance to feel him inside of you. Anything for that. “I want more,” you take a small breath, propping yourself up with your hands on either side of his neck, your eyes finding his. “Please, I— I need you… Shouto-s—”

Two fingers slide into you with ease, stealing away the chance for you to utter the honorific, instead rendering you helpless as a loud, wanton moan erupts from your lips. Shouto’s fingers are long and thick, the pads rough and already rubbing against just the right place. His other hand rests on the front of your hip, digits curled around your side as his thumb stretches to stimulate your clit. Your eyes roll back as he pulls out, your velvet walls shuddering and another sound of pleasure filling the still air inside the igloo as he pushes back in. You’re already embarrassed enough from his teasing and him cheating away the respect the -san represents, but a new wave of mortification crashes over you as the spring inside your stomach begins to compress. You’ve never been so turned on in your life, so embarrassed, so naughty— desperate.

“You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?” Shouto’s voice cuts through your foggy, aphrodisiacal headspace, and you can only nod, jaw hanging open and broken mewls tumbling out. Your hands fly to grab onto his shoulders in favor of the sleeping bag covering the ground, nails grappling into his skin. You can’t even find the sanity to shield your dissolute, wrecked expression from his watchful gaze underneath you, which he laps up eagerly— only fueling his plight as he begins to curl the digits toward himself. He’s rewarded with a higher-toned squeal, your cunt squeezing around him until he can only repeat the ‘come here’ motion. “Go ahead, beautiful. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me,” he implores.

That’s all you need to topple over the edge. Your pussy grips his fingers snug, fluttering as a numbing bliss explodes between your legs. Hips rocking shakedly against his grasp, you release a ragged groan as he continues to rub circles on your sensitive pearl. Your entire body is filled with a blistering warmth; you can feel it from the tips of your ears to your still-curled toes. Collapsing onto his chest, your lungs gasp for air as your head continues to spin, a content thrum pulsing through your bones as your pussy continues to spasm upon his hand. “S-Shouto,” you sigh, one hand slipping down to rest on the other side of his chest, fingertips biting into his skin slightly.

Shouto exhales a similar sound, fingers leaving your sloppy hole as he wraps his other arm around your waist. Bringing his fingertips to his lips, he keeps his gaze locked with yours as his tongue darts out, concealing the first knuckle from your sight.

Horror floods through you at the sight; dirty, nasty thoughts pouring into your mind. You try to get him to stop, your cheeks feeling hot once again. “Shouto-san, that’s—”

You succeed to some degree; he pulls his fingers from his mouth, but only to press them against your lips, sliding the digits deep into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. “Bad girl, using honorifics,” he admonishes, tone suddenly dark and not at all warm nor soft as it was before— yet somehow it makes your cunt flutter in excitement, reawakening and already aching to be filled again. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t gag, and Shouto only groans at such a discovery. “Don’t you think we’re past using formalities?”

He has a point, so you just flutter your lashes at him and moan onto his fingers, lips pursing around them and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Taste yourself— see, angel? You’re so sweet— god, you’re sexy, and you’ve no idea, do you?” He seems to be saying that last part to himself but you still nod, tongue wrapping around his fingers and making sure to clean him well. You want to show him you’re not bad; you’re a good girl, you can be a good girl for him.

Shouto swallows, eyes following your tongue as it wanders along his finger to poke between your lips, washing against his skin. He growls at the sight, ripping both hands away from you and ensnaring your wrists in his palms. With just one solid movement he tosses you underneath him, your back sliding against the silky lining of the sleeping bag and warming at the heat his body had left behind. You’re trying to find your bearings as Shouto fumbles with his pants, finally managing to rid one leg of the thick material and slip himself between your thighs.

Your heart begins to thump rapidly in your chest as you feel the smooth head of his cock drag against your folds, your cunt clenching in desire and your lip held prisoner between your teeth. Both of your ragged breaths tangle in the small space between you, your hands reaching to grasp the tops of his shoulders, legs spreading as much as they can in the confines of the single-person sleeping bag. Tossing your head back in agony as he teases your opening, coating himself in your slick, your cum. You’ve never felt so needy before— the urge to be filled and stretched around him dominating your every thought.

“Please— god, please Shouto,” you beg, and for a brief moment you find yourself wondering what exactly his cock looks like, the realization that you haven't actually seen it hitting you and yet here you are pleading for him to just put it in. What if he’s hung like a horse? And you’re about to be split in two— or what if he’s an average joe? Well from the foreplay he definitely knows what he’s doing so maybe—

Your entire body stills and a breathless squeal escapes your lungs as he thrusts into you in a single, swift movement. Your walls quiver in fiery pleasure as he penetrates you, his thick cock spreading you and filling you and reaching deep inside of you as his hips bump yours. You didn’t realize you were this wet; he slid into you in one go and by the feel of him, you know that’s no easy feat. But your mind doesn’t have any time to process it, for Shouto lets out the most sexy groan you’ve ever heard in your life. His head falls to rest against your throat, soft hair tickling your skin as you feel gentle pants wash over you.

“You’re so tight, Y/N— shit,” he moans again as his hips retract, pushing back inside of you slowly as if to test the waters. His cock glides inside of you, thick veins rubbing against your silky walls and making a soft whine struggle to evade your lungs. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Shouto swear, and a twisted sense of pride fills your chest at the thought of him being so into this— into you— that he’s lost all his usual self-restraint.

A few more tentative thrusts have you crying out for him, another flash of intense heat spreading through your body and each of your limbs. Shouto cradles the back of your neck in one palm, the other hand slipping around the back of your waist in order to bend your back to his liking. The angle pops your breasts up against his chest, and he swears again as your hard nipples drag across his skin. Claiming your lips as his once again, his hips begin to push into yours at a steady pace, setting the tempo at a slow but hard pace. With each crash of his hips against yours, you feel like your lungs have lost all function— his balls slap heavy against your ass, sweat starting to trickle down your thighs that come around to draw his body closer to yours, your wrists crossed around his neck and his lips slotting against yours messily.

If your mind was foggy before, now you cannot even see your own hands in front of you; your brain is dizzy and oxygen-starved, mind spinning in circles every time his hips knock into yours. Each thrust has him burrowing far inside of you, your pussy trying desperately to keep up with his quickening pace but failing— leaving you butterflied, completely open for his assault to continue. When your ankles lock behind his waist, heels digging into his firm ass, his cock begins to hit a new spot inside of you, and you wail out in shock and ecstasy.

“Shouto!” you exclaim, brow furrowing and letting out a particularly wanton moan. Your eyes nearly cross at the powerful sensation, that embarrassed feeling returning and rekindling the heat in your cheeks. From just one particularly angled thrust, the spring in your stomach makes its presence known once again.

Shouto is quick to take advantage of the weak spot you’d just revealed; his grip on you tightens as his hips begin to crash against yours, mouth sucking in your lower lip to hold hostage. Your eyes can barely stay open, but you fight yourself to maintain the eye contact Shouto offers. His stare is searing; sparks flying between the two of you as he scrutinizes every hint of pleasure you render.

The intensity has you gasping for breath, suddenly feeling hot— so hot; the sleeping bag retaining all the heat your feverish session provides. Even though you’re so close, your hands land on his chest hesitantly, tapping his sticky skin. Instantly his hips still, and he begins to examine you, a concerned expression overtaking his handsome face.

“Are you alright, beautiful?” He asks, not skipping a beat. Examining the flush on your chest and cheeks, he seems to come to the correct conclusion, turning to tear the zipper down the track toward your joined hips. Cool air washes over your sweaty skin, and you sigh at the refreshing sensation licking over your skin. You whimper as Shouto leans down toward you, frosted breath swirling over your clavicles and offering you instant relief from the hot flash that previously took over your whole being. “Guess I warmed you up too good, huh?” Shouto chuckles, and you smack his chest with a weak fist. He shifts his hips forward in response and you keen as his cock shifts deeper inside of you.

Shouto allows you a moment to catch your breath, continuing to blow cool air along your throat and chest. You bask in the revitalizing sensation, whimpering lightly as Shouto keeps a subtle and gentle pace, cantering into you just enough to keep himself hard. He kisses your neck and jaw, lips chilly yet sending hot tingles zipping through your body. “S-Shouto-san,” you mewl, sprawling out into his caress like a cat.

He only smiles against your skin, lips wandering all over your chest. The cold air radiating off the icy walls of the igloo collides with your hot skin and sends shivers down your spine. “San?” He hums, icy lips trailing along your breast until his tongue pokes out to greet your nipple. Your pussy constricts around him, his ice-cold muscle twirling round the sensitive peak and slurping it into his mouth, only to pull away with a pop. “I thought we were past that, angel.”

You groan as his cock recedes from your folds, leaving you empty and eager for more. Large, hot hands guide your hips to roll over, steering you to your face the wall of the igloo on your hands and knees. With just a cavalier flick of the wrist, a shiny coating of fresh ice blankets the interior wall, creating a cloudy reflection that brings more heat to your cheeks. You can see Shouto behind you; firm, abundant muscles lining his wide frame and his hair tousled back atop his crown, those bicolored eyes regarding you with unwavering desire. Your forehead falls to brush against the plastic of the tarp as he traces the head of his cock along your slit, your hips jerking when he nudges your clit.

Your eyelids flutter open weakly when warm kisses dance across your shoulders, a shaky moan leaving from your lips as Shouto presses into your slippery cunt once more. He sighs beside your ear, and you watch as he closes his eyes, heated lips meandering up your jaw to take the tip of your ear between his teeth. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, sucking cold air along your skin when your pussy grips him tight in an automatic response. He nibbles at your cartilage, thrusting halfway inside as his hand collects your chin. Turning your face, he pushes his lips against yours, silencing your moan when his hips press flush against yours. The new position has your eyes rolling back, his cock massaging that sacred spot nestled deep within your core. His tongue starts to wrestle with yours in your mouth, his palm leaving your face to press flush against your pelvis, perfectly lining up two fingertips to greet your clit.

Your jaw falls open at the added stimulation, pussy winding tight around his length and pulling him deeper inside. That familiar coil is present again in your stomach, your pulse racing and perspiration gathering down your back and above your brow. Shouto’s tongue only drives further into your mouth, toying with yours. His hips begin to smack against your ass, balls slapping the fingertips that rub steady patterns on your pearl of nerves. You can feel your orgasm building, pressure heightening at a surprising speed, and you begin to whimper onto his lips, fingers curling into the tarp underneath your hands.

Shouto takes his tongue from your mouth, a silver string of saliva connecting your mouths. “Look up, beautiful,” he instructs, nodding to the wall in front of you.

Your elbows almost give out at the scene before you, and Shouto grabs your shoulder to pull you upright, thighs spread wide to showcase where his body connects with yours. Your eyes can’t decide whether to stay on his slick cock pumping in and out of your tight hole, fingers working diligently on your clit, or to linger on his face, his scorching eyes half-lidded and teeth clamped gently on your shoulder. He kisses your neck sloppily, free hand curling around you to cup your breast and pinch your nipple with cold fingers. Your back arches, ass pressing against his hips as he starts to pound into you, your cunt quivering and trying desperately to keep up with his insatiable pace.

“See how pretty you are, Y/N?” Shouto goads in between kissing and nipping the soft skin on the side of your neck. You take a glance at yourself, that embarrassed feeling leaking through your pores again when you see how fucked-out your expression is; pupils blown in lust and mouth hanging open, tongue resting on your lower lip. “Who’s making you make that pretty face?”

You can barely find your voice, pussy pulling snug around his thick length as you hurtle toward your climax. Throwing your arm backwards around his neck, your hips try to meet his rapid tempo, and your face turns to nuzzle against the smooth expanse of his cheek. “Y-You, Shouto,” you cry, his fingers on your breast pinching tighter and beginning to roll. The honorific dangles on the tip of your tongue, but you bite your lip in order to seal it away. “I’m so— so close,” you warn, but he does not slow. His hips keep their frenzied pace, and the fingers on your clit suddenly surge with a searing heat, leaking into your pussy and pushing you over the edge.

Shouto bites out a swear, his corded arm holding you upright against his torso as your slouch onto him. Your thighs tremble as you fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the other hand flying to hold onto the wrist glued to your abdomen. Euphoria rushes through your body and your pussy clutches onto his cock like a vise, a string of incoherent babbles and moans jumbled together slithering over the skin on his throat. You want to beg him to stop, to give you a second to catch your breath, but your voice is silent as he continues his ministrations on your overstimulated clit, hips never stalling. He carefully pushes your shoulder, allowing you to catch yourself on your shaking hands, parallel to the tent. With your cheek pressed against the plastic, both his hands fly to your waist, fingers turning white as he rams into you with renewed vigor.

Unaware that he’d been holding back from full force, you scream out in absolute ecstasy at his new tempo. His cock draws along your swollen walls, balls smacking your puffy clit, fast and rough. Blearily you look at the reflection in front of you, already feeling another orgasm approaching at an alarming rate just from the sight before you; Shouto’s eyes in thin slivers underneath a furrowed brow, focused on the bounce of your ass in front of him, jaw hanging open unabashedly and hot puffs of steam billowing out. A cord stands out along his neck as he strains to deliver you such pleasure, muscles taught and tense along his torso. Both of you are breathless and about to cum, perspiration rolling along your skins from the steam and heat trapped inside the igloo.

His eyes meet yours in the reflection and you give in, cunt spasming around him, your fingers grappling onto the tent in bliss, and his name falling from your ajar lips. Through your haze of euphoria you hear him swear, a loud groan bouncing off the icy walls of the structure before he pulls out, hot ropes landing along your spine, all the way up to the curve of your shoulder. Your pussy flutters as you ride out your orgasm, vacant and craving to be filled by him again. Shouto’s hands are gentle on your hips, one turning to trail his knuckles along your skin.

Shouto leans forward and gathers you against his chest, despite your protests about the sticky fluid dripping down your back. You can feel his hot cock against your spine, still slick and hard. He carefully pulls your hair to the side, tilting your head to place his lips on yours. You melt into his embrace, feeling peaceful and satisfied. His lips curl into a soft smile to mirror yours, and you deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling away.

“Warm enough?” Shouto asks after clearing his throat, that charming smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

You chuckle at his question before you pause, your brain beginning to come back to reality. “Definitely, but… getting cold now, actually,” you realize aloud, head swiveling around as you take in the icy walls of the igloo still standing tall, sheltering your naked bodies from the storm.

Shouto lets out a quiet noise of agreement, one hand leaving your body in favor of searching through his disheveled backpack. He swiftly returns his hand to your body, a handful of unused napkins from your earlier meal in his palm. He also cups his other hand into the snow on the ground, melting it and heating it before he lets it glide down your skin, following the rivulets with the napkin. “If we were in any other situation, I hope you know I’d take much better care of you right now,” he comments, a hint of humor in his deep voice.  

You smile at his statement, letting your hair fall in your face as you lean forward in order to aid him. “That’s alright, I think you’ve taken care of me enough,” you reply cheekily, moving toward the sleeping bag once he taps your ass gently, signalling he’s finished.

Shouto raises a thin brow, eyes trailing over your naked breasts as you slip your bottom into the sleeping bag. His hand runs over his sculpted chest, repeating the same procedure he’s just completed on his own skin. “What, now that I made you cum three times, you’re not shy anymore?”

Your cheeks flush at his remark, and you slither into the safety of the sleeping bag, shielded from his perceptive gaze. Your refuge does not last long, for Shouto shuffles inside the bag too, his warm skin pressing against yours. After he zips the compartment closed, he gathers you in his arms, shifting you so your head lays on top of his chest. You can hear the quick thump of his heart underneath your ear, blood rushing through his veins and sounding like a sweet, soothing melody. When he speaks, it rumbles in your ears, shivers swirling underneath your skin.

“You know, you’re pretty cute whether you’re shy or not,” he confesses. You make a squeak at his compliment, your cheeks feeling hotter than ever. Shouto only laughs, the addicting noise ringing off the walls of your haven. “Well, especially cute when you’re shy.”

Shouto wonders how you can be so timid after he’s fucked you senseless, but he doesn’t push his luck. He only grins as you smoosh your face onto his pec, a hand covering your inflamed cheek. You’re more than grateful when he changes the direction of the conversation.

“You should sleep, Y/N,” he suggests, fingers tracing along your hip. “You’ll need to be well-rested for the return down the mountain tomorrow. Most likely my agency already has reinforcements on the way here— it’s protocol— so we won’t have to pursue the villains any longer. Though I doubt they made it through the blizzard.”

You nod, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You hadn’t realized you were so drained, but after hiking up a mountain and trekking through a snowstorm, you suppose it’s only rational your body is so spent. Not to mention you’d just had the best fuck of your life, with probably the most handsome, dapper man you know.

Before you can submit to the alluring tendrils of slumber, Shouto smooths his warm palms along your spine, his voice soft and sweet like honey. “Are you sure you’re warm enough? Just tell me and I’ll heat you up, for real this time,” he murmurs, a quick wave of heat emanating from his palm as if to prove his offer holds legitimacy.

“No,” you sigh, never having felt this warm, and safe in your life, “This is perfect.”

Shouto holds you as you succumb to slumber, and he hopes you don’t notice how his heartbeat quickens, a flustered pink dusting his pale cheeks.

-—-—-—-—-—-

The trek down the mountain the next morning is light-hearted and much easier than the journey up. The sun high in the sky, the perfectly smooth snowbanks reflect the bright light of day, nearly blinding if you gaze at them too long. Shouto trudges through the knee-deep snow ahead of you, creating footholds for you to step into with more ease.

Without the heavy storm from the former night, it’s easier to see where the pair of you are going, and you make your way down to the sloping foothills of the mountain in good time. The expedition feels less cumbersome without the icy storm biting into your body, but also because Shouto talks with you the entire time. He touches your waist, holds your hand for a moment too long when he offers you his support, and grins at you without restraint. Your heart races at every interaction, giddiness trickling through your veins.

When the pair of you finally reach the base of the mountain, you’re greeted by the rest of your team. They’ve set up a makeshift camp a short distance from the mouth of the trail, just through a small spattering of trees.

Relief surges through you at the sight of your coworkers, your eyes widening and your foot automatically taking a step toward the group. But Shouto grabs your wrist, spinning you around and pulling your body close to his. The weather isn’t nearly as freezing at the bottom of the mountain, and the heat that rushes into your cheeks at the action is much more noticeable. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the side of the path slightly and blocking your figures with the trees.

“Y/N,” Shouto starts, eyes cast toward the side and a boyish blush on his cheeks. The sight of him so hesitant makes your stomach drop; you’re not accustomed to seeing the pro hero anything but confident and collected. Yet his voice is still just as deep and calm as he speaks, despite his flustered disposition. “Before we rejoin the team, I wanted to ask you something.”

You place your hand on his chest, fighting your bashful demeanor to comfort the man before you. “Shouto? What is it?” Head tilted to the side, your fingers spread and retract over his coat, smoothing over the stiff material there.

Hearing you call him by just his name makes him smile warmly, his stare flickering to your hand on his chest. “I know this is kind of backwards, but… I wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with me,” he chokes out, shocked that the words come out sounding effortless and suave. “I want the chance to show you that last night was more than just sex to me.”

The rock-like feeling in your stomach dissipates, your frown melting into a timid smile. He wants to have dinner with you— a date! Last night meant something more to him; he wants to spend more time with you. Your heart swells in your chest and you nod eagerly. “Yes!” You nearly shout before you attempt to reign in your eagerness, “I mean— yes, I would— I would really like that, Shouto.”

The grin that splits across his face is more blinding than the snowbanks. It makes butterflies swarm your tummy and you can’t help but smile in return. He chuckles and the arm around your waist tightens, your body pressing against his. His lips graze your forehead and your breath catches in your lungs, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

Shouto holds you for a moment before he lets you go, dusting off his gloved hands on his pants. The faint pink drains from his cheeks, his usual indifferent expression sliding back onto his face. “Alright, let’s join the team, then,” he gestures for you to move back onto the path, and you take a step forward in front of him. A strangled noise of surprise catches in his throat when you press your lips to his in a quick, gentle kiss.

You pull away and examine his bright red cheeks, two-toned eyes wide and lips parted slightly, clearly unexpecting your sudden affection. You laugh at him, taking his wrist and tugging his stiff body back into the camp’s line of vision. Shouto seems to recover rather quickly, pinching your ass as you begin walking toward the camp. You’re about to swat at him, but your coworker notices the two of you approaching, and begins to run toward the pair of you. You shoot him a playful glare and he only smirks.

The team of fellow heroes pulls the two of you apart, fussing and showering you with a million questions— but you don’t really pay attention to any of them. Your eyes meet a blue and gray gaze through the commotion, and even without a raging storm to freeze your bones, your heart fills with warmth once again. 

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

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o my frickin god you guys i cannot believe this fic turned into such an absolute monster. 11k words— i am so mf extra. i hope it was worth it though, please lemme know if you wanna be trapped in an igloo with shou too LOL 🤪🥶🥵

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[kim-monsterlings]

Eladan - M Orc x GN Human (Reader) // SFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Orange; surrounding a mute from birth reader and some mild self-depreciating thoughts of this, mild swearing, minor heartbreak, insecurities, drinking alcohol, light touching (hugging, stroking arms, tusks nuzzled to reader’s cheeks), very fluffy ending to make up for the heartache

Wordcount: 3067

Notes: Eladan was one of the first stories I wrote, but until “tropemas” I never finished him. There is a small follow up planned for Quinn the changeling, with info here, and a maybe NSFW for each Eladan and Vaia the cute minotaur. I hope you love them <3

“Tropemas” Summary: soulmate AU - the first words overheard by your soulmate are marked on your forearm, but they aren’t so nice

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Of all places, the words intended to shatter your heart came while you were working. The words so many others clutched tight and waited for, desperate to find their soulmates, left you wanting nothing more than to avoid them. Suffering with the harsh words marked into your forearm since you were young enough to remember had left you broken-hearted before the offence, and weak-kneed when it finally came.

Working in the tavern, no less. If only you could blame it on the alcohol, but the offending orc had only just begun to drink. Sat in a large booth beside a minotaur - neither of whom you'd ever seen before, but beside Quinn, an old fae friend of yours, a changeling. They'd yet to see you, and after freezing behind the bar, you weren't sure if you had the strength to near them.

The orc's pint had clattered against pierced tusks, the froth bubbling up to a thick, braided beard, before he scowled, almost shouting, "why should I waste my life on some soulmate?" The pint slammed back onto the table once more, emptied. "Fuck fate."

Fuck fate.

It hurt more then. The first sentence you were too familiar with - after years spent scrubbing at the words, hoping one day they would wash away like ink - but the following sentiment twisted your stomach into nausea. The tavern busied in your lapse, patrons flooding in with no concern to your pained smile as you served them.

Fuck fate.

Waste my life.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for Quinn's soulmate brand to have delicate cursive, to almost whisper "take me", yet yours was harsh and unfeeling. So many times, you had considered marking it over, though artists refused. Altering a soulmate mark was immoral, no matter the price or bargain.

The orc quieted following his outburst. You wouldn't have been drawn closer if not for a call of your name - nickname, at least, with Quinn above all respecting the importance of names - and you were helpless to wandering closer.

Though this was the first night you had ever neared Quinn when out with strangers, the fae only leaned back and softened their dangerous, charming smile. Pierced and pointed tips of their ears appeared through plaited midnight hair as they turned closer. In the presence of strangers, too, they began signing in common, for which you were more than grateful for as the orc's attention swung to you.

"I wanted to say hi. Busy night?" From that, Quinn frowned. "You look tired."

"Tired," you repeated, and shrugged a little, Quinn mirroring with a small sigh. They were busy too, and you had to wonder why of all company, they chose to spend their night with an orc so horribly rude. Of course, you wouldn't outrightly say such a thing - yet. "New friends?"

"Old," they signed, before spelling, "Vaia." They tipped their chin to the almost honey coloured minotaur, and she smiled, her nose ring shifting, which left the orc to be, "Eladan. Only visiting. When do you finish?”

That cracked your mask a little. Quinn would often wait for you, to share a drink in the early morning before walking you home. Tonight, nothing sickened you more than the thought of time wasted in Eladan's company.

So, with your smile weakened, you returned, "tired." Quinn's bright eyes rolled. The excuse was well overused, but they didn't persist. "Have a drink on me."

Their touch brushed to your palm. Quinn kissed your knuckles and bid you goodnight, but only in turning did the angle of Eladan's stare strike you. He hardly feigned looking away from the loose sleeve at your wrist, and had it been any looser, the dark cruelty forever scarring you would have been legible.

The table waited hardly a minute after you left before whispering of you, but to your surprise the mumbled whisper of, "cannot speak," came from the minotaur, not orc. A weight of stares fell upon you where you stood, pretending to wipe down the bar. Vaia's deep voice carried, and though the question came as no surprise, the curiosity only served to benefit your soulmate. "How?"

"Born mute," Quinn said, and that was all.

When you looked back before passing into the kitchen, the orc had gripped his wrist tight.

Another server tended to their booth under your pleading. Most who worked in the tavern, and several customers, had been kind enough to learn some sign, or carry paper for you when needed. The night passed well, without any further heartbreaks, until Quinn's wave caught your eye.

They would be back late in the night for you so you only smiled back, smiling even to Vaia, and paid no mind to the orc yet to leave. But hidden only behind your hair now, his passing scrutiny struck harder. Was it now your shying away that earned a frown, his tusks twisted at his lips, or the refusal to turn away when he came to the bar, leaning on his forearms, that had his head tilting?

Suddenly, the colour of your outfit struck you. Something as simple as that burned in your chest and forced you to lift your head from your chest. The soft green of it matched the orc's mottled shadings near perfectly, and the irony twisted deep in your stomach.

"Pardon me," he said, in a voice so soft you almost forgot the words scarred onto you. "May I ask if your heart is spoken for?"

Why couldn't those be the words of love and affection so many had on their bodies? The pain from his attempt now to - what was he attempting? To seduce you or use you for his visit - bittered what little was left of your good mood. You left Eladan watching as you turned and walked away.

The close friendship you cherished with Quinn became your undoing. Where they went, two shadows trailed, and usually into the tavern. They hadn't specified how long the visit was, nor its purpose, and you couldn't help feeling rude asking after immediately being introduced.

Though you ought to have because Quinn thought it would be fun to introduce you all. Your refusals were ignored after desperately trying to think of an excuse, but your only excuse was work, and they could wait for you to finish. Quinn invited Vaia and Eladan to the markets, a day out usually reserved for only the two of you, and not a heart-breaking orc.

Vaia was quiet, but that was no different to how many were around you. Often afraid to speak for you couldn't, unable to really communicate but with a strained smile and nod, but the company was nice, at least, and when she began talking, drawing you to stalls when a soft fabric caught her eye, you found you didn't mind staying by her side and helping wrap the small scarf carefully by her horns, for more reason than company.

The orc never strayed far. More than often, he stood with Quinn, but his eyes flitted back to you. Vaia moved to catch up with Quinn and left you to yourself before you'd realised, and a quiet rumble of your name left you frozen in shock. He offered a small flower, dark petals and tiny in his hand, though somehow dwarfing yours. Eladan's lips rose as he stepped closer.

"Walk with me?"

Fuck fate, he had cursed, and you wanted to throw the flower, but he ducked his head and left you with an aching heart, as if already resigned to your refusal. The orc looked shrunken; shoulders fallen low as he looked back to where your friends had gone ahead without you.

"They mentioned lunch," he said then, eyes firmly on the flower twirling in your hand. "If you're hungry? Not at the tavern, that would be cruel to take you back when you are not working. Somewhere with warm food."

Cruel, and the word twisted your stomach. In an effort just to make him stop, you nodded, and Eladan's chest deflated on a rush of breath.

"We hunt when we travel. Vaia and I," he said quietly, after stealing looks in what you had hoped to be a companionable silence, walking close enough his arm brushed to yours; the arm marked by his words. "I miss proper meals. Isn't it hard working around warm food all the time? No, I… I suppose not," he mumbled when you only frowned, and his head lifted when, like a blessing, Quinn called out to you.

Eladan offered to order for you. The offer itself tightened your chest in a way you tried to fight off, immediately signing to Quinn and waiting far from the pair and by Vaia. With a nod to the jewellery now changed in her nose, she grinned and thanked you for the implied compliment. Standing beside her now had been easier before, when you didn't see the small frown on the orc's lips after you left him.

The other small tavern in your village was adjoined to an inn, less crowded and more welcoming to friends than a bar would be on a late evening. Eladan squeezed beside you in the booth not intended for so many, and Quinn sat opposite you, leaning into Vaia as you waited for drinks.

With all your heart, you tried to hate the evening. Forced close to your intended soulmate, his muscles thick and tense, it was impossible not to wonder at what could have been - what still might be, if you moved beyond the harsh words you'd grown up with.

He was travelling with Vaia looking for work. They helped people in need of protection as unofficial bodyguards. You believed that wholeheartedly, and even grinned when Vaia told a story of how she'd been the first of their company to beat Eladan in a fight, and the first to bruise his ego. If he'd caught his breath when you'd laughed, you smothered that to the back of your mind.

"If you ever want to travel," he murmured, lifting his pint up and glancing down, a small smile crinkling his eyes. "I'd love to take you. Have you travelled?"

You shook your head and sipped at your drink, which was a dangerous thing to do, now his rumbling voice had begun to sound pleasant, and the press of his thigh to yours was warm and welcomed. You couldn't pinpoint when you had stopped leaning away from him, either, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind you.

"Not many know sign. In the cities, it's... it's different, but the woods and the sea - I think you'd love it."

It wasn't the promise of the sights that made you soften and nod, but the promise of being near him, and you stiffened. By then, Vaia was already nearing the stairs up to the inn, and Eladan brushed his hand to yours in a way of goodnight before retiring, too.

That left you with a changeling who saw too much, who rose from the booth and offered an arm to hold you close. The night carried you both onward in a peaceful silence, until your home began to near. They stroked down your arms only to soften at your wrists, a flash of gold in their eyes disarming you.

"You have always been so vigilant in hiding it. The words," they whispered. "They are not kind, are they? They're… they're what he said. You overhead?"

Unable to sign with Quinn still holding you, only a sniff broke the silence. They waited for you to nod before brushing up your sleeve. Knowing the words did little to prepare for seeing them, for finding them thick and unwavering.

After an evening so pleasant by his side, they slammed a weight into you, knocking a pain which had fallen away over the course of the night, back to its place in your chest.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"His arm is blank. I do not wish to overstep-" you couldn't help frowning, and Quinn laughed with you. "More so than already, but, look," they sighed. Hands gentle on yours, Quinn squeezed. "He thought there wasn't a soul out there for him. Eladan wants you."

You twisted free then, staggering back a step. "He may want a soulmate but he does not want me. He does not want some-" your fingers twisted and Quinn reached, whispering your name as you struggled to focus and sign through the rush of pain. "Some mute. He wants a soulmate, not me. Goodnight."

Quinn ducked their head and returned the sentiment, waiting until you were indoors before leaving. They didn't see you collapsed to your knees and tracing the words by heart, wishing as you had so many times before that things were different.

True to their word and for that you were beyond grateful, Quinn didn't overstep. No more outings as a group were encouraged and you threw yourself into work, spending the nights walking home and chatting with your friend, and only them, waiting until the two guests would finally pass on.

Maybe it was wrong to think so, but you didn't want him. Eladan wanted a soulmate too late. The words were always and would be scarred, stinging, a reminder of how for years you had anticipated it being in disgust at finding you mute. Whether that was so or not, whether it was a mistake, your heart had been burdened for a time long before he had tucked a flower to your ear and teased smiles to your lips, and he would be leaving soon.

Soon, but without any timeframe. It was below you to outrightly ignore him, even on the night he came into the tavern alone. Eladan's warm smile didn't meet his eyes when you left him nursing an almost untouched pint, and for once it was you looking over your shoulder to the lonely orc.

For a breath too long, your stare lingered, entranced by the muscles flexing as he shucked off a jacket, small beads in his beard clinking. The move was one so insignificant - simply removing his leathers, as many would - but he bared his wrists, his plain, empty wrists, like he wanted you to see.

Eladan's shadowed eyes fell from you to his wrist when you were drawn helplessly to the booth. "What I'm thinking," he began quietly, with his thumb rubbing in circles you had drawn time and time before, but where yours were an effort to scrub away words, his were to summon. "I think you already know, don't you?"

Unable to deny it, you did nothing but turn.

Tonight, Quinn wouldn't be there to accompany you home. Maybe it had been a set up - an overstep you doubted, but it didn't surprise you to find an orc the last patron left in the early hours of the closing tavern. Eladan left with his jacket over his shoulder and reached out to brush your hands together before leaving.

You couldn't find the strength to stay standing any longer. The churning in your stomach forced you out for fresh air, collapsing back into the wall for support when the first, long-suppressed sob tore from you.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair to be so heartbroken before ever learning who your soulmate was, and to now want to be with them, to learn them, yet feel the pain of their imprint lingering behind any soft smile or effort in carrying a conversation.

Nor was it fair to be completely unsurprised by the tentative call of your name from your soulmate, the very same who had waited for you, stumbling across you pressing a hand over your mouth and choking back cries.

Eladan's knuckles first brushed from your damp cheeks to skim along your throat. Gentle enough was his hold that you could lean into him and he trembled at the closer embrace, shifting to tuck you against his chest when a shudder wracked you.

"The first words you heard me say," he murmured. "Of all the things that night for you to hear, I think you heard the worst."

The tiny, indistinguishable hum that came from your throat earned a weak smile. Eladan nodded more to himself as he tucked his fingertips beneath your coat and bared your wrist, the words as dark and legible as always.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"Fuck fate," he whispered then, the following words that had served only to worsen the wound. Eladan curled himself closer and nudged his tusks to your cheeks in a move as tender and intimate as you would allow.

For him to twist free from you and turn his head down came with a strike of shame. Had you so easily fooled yourself? To think that this warrior orc, one who spat harsh words and was only passing through, would want you of all people made you weaken and sniff, trying to lean away.

Eladan frowned, braids flicking beyond his shoulder. His fingertips pressed against your cheek to return your unfocused eyes to him, before his hand curled into a fist, arm folded across his chest, and he moved his fist in a slow circle.

"I'm sorry," he signed. The next attempt became so jittery, his movements rigid and nervous all at once, that you reached for his large hands and squeezed. He weakened again and brought your touch to brush against his tusks as he spoke aloud. "Those words were from anger. I thought I was the only soul not to have a match out there. I never thought… you," he breathed, and closed his eyes. Just this once, you told yourself, you would let him lean into you; you ignored that it had happened before, that you'd let him come close already. "I want you. I want to want you for you, for more than fate's hand, and if you would give me the chance - please, I," he caught himself then, his voice cracking. "Quinn is teaching me, um- I-" You couldn't help your smile when Eladan wriggled his fingers free to sign, "please. One chance."

"One," you returned, but it was enough for him to shudder and clutch you tight.

He fumbled behind your back enough for you to recognise hand movements, before he grunted, "thank you."

[jamespotterthefirst]

As Long as You Love Me So

aka the fake Christmas date (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: some language 

Premise: She is in desperate need of a date for her cousin’s pretentious dinner.

Author’s Note: Back at it again at Krispy Kreme with the fake dating trope. This takes place during the holidays in book 1. Thank you to @aestheticartsx​ for pre-reading this 💖

Can you pretend to be my date tonight? 

The biting Boston breeze cut into her exposed skin with an unforgiving bite, leaving her fingers numb as she sent the text. All around her, chatting and laughing couples milled about, basking in the golden lights of the city's Christmastime decorations. Those who weren't affectionately enraptured in each other or studiously deciding which of the many restaurants to pick from threw curious glances her way. 

Please? It's a long story but I can tell you when you get here. I'll pay you. 

Vaguely, she regretted the pale pink cocktail dress that left her shoulders, legs, and much of her chest exposed. An hour ago, it had seemed like the perfect dress to force her pretentious cousin, Griselda, into quiet envy. And while her plan had been successful for the better part of five minutes, Lilac's arrival at the restaurant without a date had been enough for her cousin to revert back to her sneering, condescending, look-at-my-successful-broker-boyfriend ways. 

 I'm offended, Lil. I'd do that shit for free. 

Bryce's text brought Lilac back to her current desperate situation. With unfeeling, shivering fingers she texted back. 

You don't need to know why? You'll do it? 

Bryce's reply came in instantly which Lilac was grateful for. The sudden breeze that rustled through her hair and bare skin made her shiver uncontrollably. 

No need to know why. I'd do anything for you. 

Her triumphant smile lasted only second as her phone announced a second text from Bryce. 

But I can't tonight. I'm assisting Dr. Tanaka and he'll murder me if I back out now. I'm so sorry, Lil. 

Lilac exhaled sharply, her breath swirling into the night like fog. This was what she got for letting her anger get the best of her. Wincing, she recalled the lie that had hurled from her lips with vehement, unstoppable force. 

“Not that it's any of your business but I'm dating a successful doctor from work.”

Griselda's brief shock had been vindication enough but when it slowly ebbed into a wicked, challenging sneer, Lilac felt utterly pathetic.

“Fuck her,” Lilac muttered with a sudden rush of righteous anger.  

So help her God, she was going to march back into the restaurant and promptly inform her stupid cousin that her dating life was none of her business. So what if Lilac couldn't make a relationship last longer than a few months or if she dated around too much? She would be damned if she allowed her pompous, gold digging cousin to slut shame her. 

“Please tell me you're not a smoker, Rookie.”

The familiar baritone sent a white hot thrill through her body before her brain registered who it belonged to. 

Handsome as ever, Doctor Ethan Ramsey stood before her, eyeing her quizzically. He looked magnificently elegant in a dark suit, topped with a dark blue coat and scarf. The twinkling Christmas lights of the street sent his striking features into sharp relief, making him appear even more attractive than should be allowed. 

He waited for her reply and Lilac jolted with a start. Nearby, a small group smoked as they talked and laughed. 

“No smoking for me.” She grimaced and added as an afterthought, “Though if I were a smoker, I'd need a full pack right about now.”

“Rough night?” 

“You've no idea.”

“Is that why you're standing out here in the freezing cold with no coat wearing…” 

He trailed off, piercing blue eyes sweeping over her attire. Lilac held her breath, the heat of his gaze feeling like a gentle caress of his fingers on her skin. 

“...That?” 

His gaze reunited with hers and they looked at one another in the noisy street, a charged silence stretching between them. 

Then, too suddenly, Ethan looked away, busying himself with removing his coat and draping it over Lilac's shoulders without much ceremony. The pleasant waft of his cologne comforted her almost as much as the welcomed warmth of his coat. 

“I never took you for the type to like any of these trendy restaurants,” she commented when there was nothing else to say. “Especially during the holidays, with so many people everywhere.”

Ethan grimaced slightly. “I had to join Banner Health for dinner. It seems cozying up to them at the baseball game a few months ago was not enough to get a good deal for our patients.”

Lilac pulled his coat closer around herself but said nothing. 

“What about you? Why are you so determined to die of hypothermia?” His eyes briefly swiveled to her dress again. “Is your date going that terribly?”

Ethan added the last part casually enough but Lilac sensed that he was extremely interested in the answer. 

“I would take a horrible date over what's going on in there.” She gestured toward the window of the restaurant with a nod. At Ethan's evident confusion, she added, “Family dinner.”

“Aren't you close with your family?” 

“My mother, father, and siblings? Yes. My cousin?” Lilac allowed a look of disgust to be her answer. 

The crowd of people that moved around them on the sidewalk forced them closer together. Lilac's stomach fluttered but Ethan looked unfazed, peering down at her expectantly, waiting for her to go on. 

“It's my cousin Griselda's annual Christmas dinner at this ostentatious restaurant. Mostly because she can't cook for shit.” She explained this with a sarcastic flair. “But we're all supposed to forget about that when she shoves expensive meals under our noses.”

To her surprise, Ethan chuckled. “Sounds like fresh hell. Why even attend?” 

“Because it would be unspeakably rude not to show up? The family drama this would cause would be ten times worse.” Lilac glanced through the window of the dark restaurant, all tables lit by candle light. “So instead, us poor bastards who live in the East Coast are forced to hear all about how successful and beautiful she is.”

In moving her hands and arms when shit-talking her cousin, Ethan's coat began to slip off one of her shoulders. 

“You're a doctor, Rookie. And a damn good one at that.” 

Ethan's eyes fell to the curve of her exposed shoulder then back to her eyes. His gaze held such intensity that she was momentarily struck motionless. Very gently, gentler than she had ever seen him before, he reached over to adjust his coat around her, the sweep of his fingers against her skin leaving a trail of heat.

“And not to mention you're also quite beau—” 

“So you made it after all.” 

Griselda looked directly at Ethan as she emerged from the restaurant. There was no greeting, only bitter disappointment in her voice. Her cousin's dark, judgmental eyes swept the handsome doctor from head to toe, as though trying to find a flaw but finding none to her dismay.

“We all thought Lilita here was bluffing.”

Ethan stared at Griselda with brief surprise at being addressed so bluntly. His questioning gaze briefly moved to Lilac who grit her teeth in embarrassment, wishing for the ground to swallow her whole. 

The longest silence in Lilac's existence passed before he spoke again. 

“I arrived as fast as I could on such short notice.”

Lilac's head snapped to look at him, only belatedly remembering to hide her surprise.

“It's unspeakably rude to invite someone impromptu,” Ethan continued, matching Griselda's cool, haughty demeanor. 

Lilac could have kissed him with gratitude. 

“Yes, well.” For the first time in her life, Griselda Castillo had no retort. 

It was all too perfect. All Lilac had to do now was make up an excuse for Ethan to go and no one would be the wiser about her stupid lie. Not even Ethan himself. It was all going to work out—

“Forgive me, we were not aware Lilac was seeing someone. Easy mistake to make.” Griselda threw a faux saccharine smile Lilac's way. “When we heard about the famous boyfriend, however, we just had to meet you.”

Fuck you, Griselda. 

Lilac couldn't decide if she wanted to push her cousin onto moving traffic or if she wished to walk right into it herself. 

Beside her, Ethan remained very still. 

“He actually can't stay.” Lilac said, her voice hitching higher in barely controlled panic. “He has to finish some research for his next case study.” 

Griselda looked between Ethan and Lilac, clearly unconvinced. Her crimson lips slowly turned up into a devilish, triumphant smile that would have put the Grinch himself to shame. 

Ethan seemed to recover beside her because he cleared his throat. 

Then, he moved to stand closer to Lilac and to her utter, complete shock, he wrapped an arm around her waist with enviable grace. 

“My research can wait, love,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. “If your family wants to meet your boyfriend then that's what they'll do.”

If someone had told him that morning that his day would end at the most pretentious restaurant in the city with Lilac Allende pressed close to his side, he would have recommended a brain CT scan. Yet, there he stood, being hastily introduced to people whose names he had no chance of remembering right away, not when Lilac's hand slid slightly down his chest, scorching him through the very fabric of his shirt. 

He glanced down at her and immediately realized what a mistake that had been. The glittering, sinful dress she wore was entirely too distracting on its own, but the charged way her green eyes studied his face... it made the energy between them crackle like an exposed wire.

“Everyone, this is Doctor Ethan Ramsey,” Lilac said to the curious and expectant table. “My…”

She trailed off, turning a bashful glance at Ethan. 

“Boyfriend,” Ethan finished without pause. He willfully ignored the thrill the juvenile word sent through him. 

As they took their seats, Ethan was still unsure what possessed him to pretend for her sake. All he saw was her cousin's mocking grin and Lilac's dejected, mortified frown and suddenly, he felt the urge to be anything she needed. 

“Pleasure, Doctor Ramsey,” Griselda said with as much enthusiasm as someone with a hernia. 

Ethan decided right then that if anything else, at least he would enjoy free food and alcohol, all paid for by Lilac's unpleasant cousin. When he looked over at his pretend girlfriend, pale dress glittering in the candle light and looking as radiant as ever, his blood buzzed with unbridled yearning.

“Ramsey?” the blonde man sitting next to Lilac's cousin asked with interest. “Why does that sound familiar? Where do I know you from?” 

“Ethan is a world famous doc—” 

“Wait,” a young woman with a mountain of curly hair and a kind face interrupted, enthusiastic. “He was in your Miami pictures, wasn't he?” 

Ethan blinked. 

Beside him, Lilac shook her head frantically at the young woman. 

“Natalia,” she hissed, but Natalia either missed this or ignored it. 

“You're so photogenic, Doctor,” she commented with a broad grin. “I messaged Lilita about it. The way she talked about you, it was so obvious she was into you.”

Ethan raised an intrigued eyebrow at the lovely, blushing doctor beside him. Lilac, however, studiously avoided his eyes, suddenly very interested in her wine. 

A young man sitting next to Natalia laughed. He shared many similarities with her, including the unruly curls. 

“I think we all called that one, Nat.”

“Has everyone tried the calamari?” Griselda interjected sharply. Ethan got the impression she didn't appreciate any conversation that was not solely about her. “It is divine.”

As Natalia rolled her eyes and challenged that proclamation, Ethan leaned in close to Lilac, the heady scent of her perfume sending his mind to less than honorable places. She had been leaning in too and they ended almost nose to nose. 

“You don't have to do this for much longer,” she whispered. “I can think of something so we can leave.”

Ethan ignored this and instead asked, “Miami pictures?” 

She blushed even deeper.

“Into me?” 

She was the color of her wine by now. 

Ethan had never seen this timid, demure side of her. Typically, the roles were reversed where he was the object of her teasing. As he watched her lovely blush spread down to her graceful neck, Ethan found he enjoyed this dynamic. 

It made him wish he could kiss her. Hard. 

“Tell her, Lilita,” the curly-haired young man called from his seat, making Griselda's eyes bulge out with indignation. “Aunt Margo's tamales are the only acceptable meal for Christmas.”

“Sebastian, you are making a scene,” Griselda muttered. 

“I'll let my mom know you miss her food, Sebas. She'll love you more than she already does,” Lilac laughed.

 The sound, accompanied with the fact that she looked so much more at ease, made Ethan's chest glow with contentment. 

Before he could stop himself, his hand moved atop hers under the table. Lilac stiffened in surprise but relaxed immediately after, keeping their hands locked. 

“I'm just not convinced tamales make for an elegant Christmas dinner,” Griselda was saying. 

“Bitch, you grew up in Guadalajara,” Natalia returned at once. “That's all you ate in the winter.”

The whole table laughed, much to Griselda's fury. The blonde man beside her rubbed her back soothingly to no avail. Instead, her sharp eyes zeroed in on Lilac like daggers and an air of conceit returned to her expression. 

“So how long have you two been together?” 

“A few months,” Ethan returned with ease. 

“Ooh,” Natalia commented. “The honeymoon stage! Where you can't keep your hands off the other and all you want to do is—” 

“Funny,” Griselda continued, eyes never leaving Lilac. “My cousin never really mentioned you.”

“She never really mentioned you either,” Ethan deflected. 

Sebastian almost choked on his drink. 

“How did you meet?”

Griselda's question came off as a challenge. 

“We work together.”

“Is that allowed?” 

“Yes.”

Below the table, Lilac gripped his hand. Ethan squeezed back, wishing more than anything that his lie was true. 

“Was it love at first sight?” Natalia asked with genuine interest.

“Have you seen her?” the blonde man joked before Ethan could consider the question or how much he despised the phrase "love at first sight." Something coiled in his stomach at the less than innocent smile the man was sending Lilac's neckline. 

His fist clenched at his side, itching to connect with the man's jaw in a swift undercut. 

“Keith,” Griselda chided, also looking thoroughly displeased. 

Keith did a poor job at looking abashed. This did not fly with Natalia, who Ethan liked more and more each minute, because she glared at Keith and scolded him in both English and Spanish. 

“You don't have to answer Nat's question if she asks again, by the way,” Lilac said as her cousins argued.

Ethan said nothing, careful to keep his expression neutral. 

If he were to answer the question, the answer would be a resounding no. His feelings for the beautiful young doctor before him did not arise from their first meeting. As a matter of fact, after the thoracotomy, Ethan had walked away thinking her arrogant and impertinent, just like any other fresh-faced intern eager to impress an attending. Except this intern had done so by flirting with him. 

 Instead, he thought of her hand atop his in the NICU as they watched over Dolores's baby fight for his life; of the comforting hand on his knee as he told her about Naveen; of every kind, warm smile she gifted him with when passing each other in the hallway. 

It had decidedly not been love at first sight. The clichéd expression would never be enough to capture the way his heart ached for her every time he laid eyes on her, each time with much more force. 

“No amount of free alcohol or expensive food should make you feel obligated to act that much,” Lilac laughed, oblivious. Sparkling green eyes met his, taking in his expression. “What?” 

Ethan swallowed. He was unable to decide if he wanted to tell her he was far from acting or if he wanted to pull her close and kiss her. 

“We're leaving,” Griselda announced in a harsh and dramatic whisper as a way to end the ongoing argument. She frantically collected her belongings and rose at once. 

When she realized no one at the table was saddened by the announcement, she marched out of the restaurant with Keith at her heels. As soon as she was gone, Natalia cackled. 

“Well, that was one of the better Grinch-elda dinners.”

Sebastian threw Ethan an appreciative smile. “It appears Doctor Ramsey is the only one who can tame her. She finally met her match.”

“That was her tame?” 

The cousins laughed. 

After a final round of drinks, Natalia and Sebastian announced that they too had to depart. When they were out the door, Lilac exhaled and relaxed for the first time all evening. 

“Thank—” 

But Ethan shook his head, interrupting. “Don't mention it, Rookie.”

Lilac gave him a single nod and when she couldn't stand the heat of their eyes on one another’s, she averted her gaze to readjust the front of her dress. 

Soon they would each be going their separate ways and this brief fantasy would really be over. 

With a pang, he realized he didn't want it to be. 

“Lilac?” 

“Hmm?” 

Her eyes met his and Ethan forgot all coherence, not that he knew what exactly he planned to say anyway. Rosy, plush lips commanded his attention and Ethan leaned in, determined to feel them against his again. 

Lilac moved too, until their breaths mingled together, the distance separating them as insignificant as the million reasons they deemed this a bad idea.

They were so close now, Ethan's hand moving to the dip of her waist. She whispered his name, a silent invitation, and the last remnants of restraint vanished. 

“Oh shit. Sorry—” 

Natalia halted at their table, slightly out of breath, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. Lilac and Ethan sprang apart, which only made Natalia wince apologetically. 

“I'm so sorry to interrupt but I can't believe I forgot to tell you. We're all spending New Year's Eve in Griselda's cabin in Vermont. It’s going to be this but ten times worse so we need all the backup we can get.”

Lilac tensed visibly next to him. 

“You two should come.”

Author’s Note: If you made it this far, thank you! 

I decided Lilac’s family nickname is Lilita because Latin American families do that all the time. For example, my cousin’s name is Teresa and they call her Teresita (in diminutive form with the -ita/-ito). Which is hilarious to me because they make the names longer rather than shorter. They do that with own full name too, lol. I love it. 

Anyway: Hopefully, my inspiration doesn’t vanish for a part 2! 

Happy Holidays to everyone! 

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